Page 74 – 75 / 1941 – 42

Left Hand Page

‘Chunkel’ v.2 (cont.) – ‘The Balance of Life’ and ‘Yellow Curtains’.

…] multitude as a whole.

It is necessary for every man to be fully conscious of this power to enrich himself with the abundance of good in the world. Life is stronger than death. Death is losing its sovereignty over many domains and LIfe is conquering them all. Man with his thirst for happiness and life, shuns the darkness and pushes forward indefatigably towards the light.

Will you see how powerful individuals are? Look at the guiding influence of five inspired men amongst a passive thousand!

It is like the old adage tells us: In a dark and sombre cavern, someone lights a candle, and behold all these masses of impenetrable darkness retreat; the power of darkness is broken.


Good night he said. Good night” she said, and her eyes were dark. He could see them shining in the light of the shaded street lamp. He was shy now that it was all over. He wanted to stay but he could think of nothing to say to her. “You have a to lovely garden” he said. “Yes, my husband was very fond of gardening.” “Oh – I didn’t know you were married.” “My husband was killed last month – he used to be in the unexploded Bomb Squad.” “I’m sorry”. “You needed be” she said, and smiled at ho,. “I never loved him. I try to forget about it.” “I see. You know you haven’t even told me your name.” ”Harbottle” she said. “Jane Harbottle – Goodnight”. “May I see you again.” “Of course”. “Thank you” he said “Goodnight”. His hand just touched hers and he left her standing at the gate.

He drove very fast, his hands light on the steering wheel. He was going again. He no longer belonged to the earth, he was living in a different plane. His spirit had left him, and was soaring in places his body had never known. He could see the lights of the city in front of him. He saw the flashes of the stars that were the shells bursting high in the sky; he heard the roll of thunder, that was the bursting of the bombs in the city. He drove faster, the noise of the engine drowned the thunder; he began to sing and his heart sang.

He locked the garage door and went out into the street. The noise of the planes and bursting of the bombs was deafening. He wondered if he could see the house with the yellow curtains a few doors away in the black-out. He looked, and found that he could not see it. The house with the yellow curtains had gone.

There was a mad screeching of brakes and the lorry pulled up beside him. A man, a stranger, lent out of the driving seat and shouted at him “Unexploded Bomb. Want to help.” “Of course.” Jump in” said the stranger. They drove very fast through dark streets past opening craters in the ground. The stranger was very silent. The only noise was the crashing of gears and the thunder of guns. They came to a small field just outside of the city, a field with barbed wire round it, and pitted with bomb craters. They carried the unexploded bomb to the largest hole and the stranger produced a small black box and a coil of wire. “My own invention” said the stranger, “connect these wires to the detonator, put it under the bomb, press this button, and the job’s done. Simple, isn’t it?” And he carried the box

Right Hand Page

‘Chunkel’ v.2 (cont.) – ‘Personality Parade’ and ‘Get a load of this’ and ‘Protoplasm and Personality’. George Sprod on ‘Persiflage’ cartoon.

[…] and Personality

[…] our problem is: Can you find personality inherent in protoplasm, as the title of this thesis implies? You take your microscope and agree that you can. Here is your primitive cell, study it! You have your forty-eight chromosomes (coloured bodies) with which are inextricably bound up the genes. They are corpuscular molecules postulated to explain the propyls of our inherent factors of heredity. In popular language the chromosomes and of course, the genes, differ according to the species. Incidentally those of a mule are sterile. Our genes are like strings of minute beads, each sex has of a cell. Each bead ‘on the string’ governs a characteristic of its species; colour of eyes, intelligence-quotient etc. If the gene governing one quality is deficient in one parent, but present in the other, there is no great loan to the embryo, but if, for instance, the genes of mental acumen on the strings of both sexes are absent or impaired then idiocy results. You can, and should see your future wife’s genes and compare that with your own. On seeing all you should sink sentiment and be firm for posterity’s sake. “Falling in love” is nonsense, you fall into sense. Ergo, – there may be no sex in soul, but what could have more potential ego than protoplasm? This amoebic molecule is actually a genius, for he is able not only to function miraculously but by inherent personality on mind can govern and interpret those faculties. For instance, in order to appreciate the colour of a red rose the retina of the eye must vibrate 400 billion of times a second, and before the men or women in us can exclaim “Sweet violet!” the protoplasmic cells concerned must oscillate 700 billions of times. Yet in the past three thousand years we have only had about one billion of seconds. “PERSIFLAGE”


Kevin Fagan, the charming and popular and seemingly tireless surgeon of Sime Road P.O.W. Camp was born in Tasmania 35 years ago. Went to live in Sydney at an early age where he was educated at St. Ignatius College, being “dux” there for two years, and then at Sydney University, qualifying as a doctor at the age of 23. He then spent a year at the Prince Alfred Hospital followed by a year at the Coast Hospital and next a year at the Women’s Hospital, all in Sydney. In 1935 he returned to Tasmania where he was for three years at the Royal Hobart Hospital as deputy superintendent.

The next 12 months of his career he spent in England and America. In America he passed most of his time in New York, and while in England was at the Middlesex Hospital in London. He was about to take his F.R.C.S. when war broke out and he returned to Australia, once more going to the Coast Hospital in Sydney where he was Senior Fellow in Surgery in the post graduate division. At the end of 1940 he joined the Australian Army Medical Corps, and was posted to the 10 A.E.H. which left Australia in February 1941 and on arrival in Malaya was stationed at Malacca, After capitulation Kevin Fagan was surgeon at Roberts Hospital before going up-country to Thailand where he did marvelous work with “H” Force and was the idol of every officer and man. He performed over 1,000 operations in Thailand and has almost reached the 300 mark in Sime Road.

He is a married man with a daughter seven years old. His favourite game is tennis, at which he is quite an expert; also plays golf, likes fishing and reads a lot. He hopes to go back to the Coast Hospital after the war. The very best of luck to him. J.W.


HENRY ECOMA who throws more into one suggestive hip-wriggle than can be extracted from a “Razzle” anthology, looks like dominating the female firmament in future “Barn” revels – blackouts and incoming drafts permitting. Like Caesar, it may be said of Henry – or should we say Henrietta? – that ‘He came, he saw, and he Conga’d.” Haven’t heard Capt. Lloyd’s ‘Laughter in Law’ talks yet, but judging by the volume of genuine mirth this item invariably invokes it would appear that it deals almost exclusively with Military Law… Max Miller’s “Street Singing” debut was enterprising enough, but who in Sine Road requires any reminder (however melodious) that “Once he built a railroad”…

(continued on page 14)