Sogeri, near Port Moresby, New Guinea

30 September 1942

My Alice,

You are by far the bravest woman I've ever met. You've gone through so much (and I hope to God your parents never meet me, I don't know if they'd survive the occasion), and looked at it all and went "No, I deserve better". I'm so damn proud of you, sweetheart, I wish you'd never gone through it in the first place, but I'm so proud of all that you've done to survive and achieve your dreams. You deserved a better childhood - no person should have to go through what you and Peg went through - and you deserve the life you've built for yourself now (regardless of the small voices in your head that sound suspiciously like your parents tell you otherwise.)

I've been asking around about potentially sending Addy home to you, but it's been so chaotic lately for all of us that there's no safe way to guarantee she'd make it to you until we return… I just get so worried here about her. She's safe back at camp, but, I don't know, I don't want her lost in the shuffle if we have to make a sudden retreat or advance, and there's lots more here in the rainforest that she's in danger of being a meal to… I hate this place so damn much these days. I know we need to stay here to prevent the Japanese from getting a permanent foothold in this region, but there are days I'd like to receive the order to pack up and go.

Addy's not smothering me too much, thankfully, she just misses me (and you.)

A new journal and some new pencils would be lovely, sweetheart, I'll make it up to you when I get back, I promise. Thank you.

I suppose that's true, I was the one who started us on this rabbit hole into the future (well, and Mum). It's not too forward to say, sweetheart, because I care for you too - more than I think you want me to admit. You'd have to chase me out with a lot worse than strong feelings, I'm yours as long as you want me to stick around. (I personally plan on staying with you for a long time as you also make me feel safe enough to open up about everything… you're my calm in the eye of a storm too.)

I'm glad you and Jean are getting along, sweetheart, it makes my heart feel warm knowing you're friends (and giggling like sisters already), and I know Christopher takes heart in the fact that Jean and his boys have people looking after them while he's gone. I'm also very glad he's writing to her as I told him too, a fight shouldn't be the last thing you say to someone before leaving for war, I just hope he's able to get home for them to reconcile. Pride is a dangerous thing, but I hope he's learned his lesson.

You can't see me, sweetheart, but I'm definitely groaning into my hands at the thought of all Jean knows about my childhood and awkward teenage years… I might regret introducing the two of you more than I did with Vera.

I'm the big tease? Sweet, darling, brilliant, Almost Doctor Harvey, you're the biggest of them all with your sweet talk of the future and your kisses on your letters… I do love it though, so please don't stop.

Your tips have helped immensely when the medics are busy with the more grievous injuries, so thank you so much, sweetheart. You're not sitting on your hands, I know you and Dot are doing what you can to uplift our spirits and whatever measures Australia has in place back home like victory gardens, donating metal, and of course rationing. That's not doing nothing, Alice, I know it doesn't feel like much, but a little goes a long way.

Children are very messy, that's true; right when you get used to the drool and the spit up, suddenly they're running around through the mud and dirt and tracking it everywhere, but… it's very sweet to watch them grow in the long run. (For now, though, I'm very glad I'm "Uncle" and not "Dad", you get to give them back to their parents once you've wound them up, and then they have to deal with that, not me.)

Is that why you're always reluctant when I try to give you things, sweetheart? How would you prefer to be spoiled, oh practical almost doctor of mine? Can I still send you flowers?

It's good to be prepared even if it's Clara delivering the baby instead of you, sweetheart because that means she can look to you for support and guidance in case something goes wrong. (I'm not saying something will go wrong, childbirth can be tricky, but as Vera told me once it's one of those situations where the instinct takes over and the mother knows what her body is telling her to do.) You've got this, sweetheart, and I hope I can meet Baby Cooper one day.

Like I said at the beginning of this letter, you're the bravest woman I've ever met, Alice Harvey.

I don't know what we'll call this war, I don't like to think of it, but I do hope that it'll be the last major one the world's involved in for quite some time. I'm sorry your mum was like that, and I'm sorry your father was a brute, neither you nor Peg deserved that at all.

Would you like your birthday to be when it is? If so, then I don't see why you couldn't continue having it on that day, sweetheart. If it comes to it, maybe after the war we can track down your birth record in Sydney, they should still hold them and we won't even have to go find your parents to do it.

Reading's always been a refuge for you, hasn't it? Thank you for sharing your favorites with me, it's opened my eyes up to a whole new world of literature to explore.

I don't think you'd end up like your parents if you ever chose to have children (not saying you will, I know you've made up your mind); you've seen what happens in a loveless marriage, in bringing children into a world where they're not wanted… I think you'd do the opposite - wait for a good partner to build a life with and provide a loving home for any child that crossed the threshold. Your parents taught you how not to raise a child, and you're the smartest person I know, sweetheart. If anyone can figure out how to give children a loving and supportive home after a childhood like yours, it's you.

And I will certainly keep an eye on my drinking and those around us, so you're comfortable in any setting we might be in, sweetheart.

Do you want to look for your sister once the war is over? I still have connections in the police force and being in the army has given me a larger network to work with… I'm sure we could track her down with the two of us working together. She might have gotten adopted, but surely there's record of it somewhere, some neglected warehouse or basement of a government building; Welfare might be uncaring, but they still keep records of everything.

I'm glad Mac scooped you up, though, you deserve to thrive at whatever you put your mind to, and your brilliance will be very much wanted in pathology - to give closure to the loved ones the dead leave behind. You're going to be great, sweetheart, you already are.

I miss you too, Alice; I wish I were there talking to you in person, going on picnics, kissing you… but instead, I'm stuck in this damned jungle surrounded by snoring men in hammocks which is nothing like you… unless you also snore?

(I'm going to be in trouble for that remark, aren't I?)

It certainly is the longest letter I've gotten from you, but I'm so proud of you for telling me of your past, it can't have been easy to do; I won't betray that trust you have in me.

Christopher is still being stubborn, but no news of insubordination from him, so that's good at least.

Miss Spitfire enjoyed her shortbread, thank you very much, and the boys loved the biscuits! All around hit once again from Wardlow.

I look forward to seeing that jumper myself, but I'm glad it's keeping you warm when I can't; and as for you sharpening your knitting skills, Mum will definitely adopt you the moment you present her that gift. She'll love it, sweetheart, thank you for doing it when you didn't have to.

Thank you for crossing Queensland off our plans, I'm certain we won't miss anything as there are plenty more states to consider in our future.

The days slog by, but each letter from you is a welcome reprieve.

Yours, Proudly,

Matthew

[included in the letter is another photograph of Matthew with a jungle in the background, this time he's relaxed and smiling, his bush hat is perched back on his head as a long calico cat lounges on his shoulders; the top few buttons of his uniform shirt are unbuttoned and his dog tags are easily seen and the photo is detailed enough to see a layer of scruff on his cheeks and chin. Though relaxed, his eyes look tired and there's a tightness to his clasped hands as he props his elbows on his knees. On the back, Matthew has written: "Surprise! There was a photographer here earlier and they volunteered to take photos of us to send back home, so you get a new photo, sweetheart. - M"]


[Journal Entry of Matthew]

Sogeri, near Port Moresby, New Guinea

1 October 1942

I hate this. I hate this campaign. I hate this damn jungle. I hate the damned brass who keep sending us out into Kokoda with little results other than more men dead… I don't see the point of us being here, the Japanese are like ghosts and we've not seen a return on our efforts one bit. Every bit of land we get they take back and our work to disrupt their communications has been futile, to say the least. Men keep dying, I hate to think of the number in total once we're done here. No one should have to go through this; I'm tired of the fighting, of the dying, of everything.

We lost Gibson yesterday… he succumbed to his injuries hours after I finished my letter to Alice. I hate watching my men die, I feel like I've failed them, but what can you do when the jungle is littered with mines and traps? I wish Hugh was here, but we've been separated in this last shuffle of the brigade and my new higher-ups aren't worth a pot to piss in. And to think I miss garrison duties… I wish I was on garrison duties again, anything is better than here.

How I wish I could be home with Alice, working beside Jack and Hugh as she finished up school; I wish I could be taking her out to the foreshore, the cinema, or on more picnics. I wish I could hold her in my arms and kiss her the way I've been dreaming of since I last left her… Her picture's getting faded, and while I do have others to carry with me, her first picture is the one that stays in my shirt pocket every time we leave camp. It's a good luck charm at this point and I dare not leave it behind on this campaign; it's kept me safe this far, I hope it will continue to in the future… after all, I've got my girl to return to and our future to start working towards.