Still Jim said nothing. Yes, he’d heard that, too. He had to admit he’d been shocked himself, but he hadn’t really taken the quote seriously. Just some loud-mouth military bigot blowing off steam, he’d thought.

‘It’s more than stupid,’ Pete said, ‘it’s bloody criminal! When the nation’s leaders spread racism and ethnic hatred, the whole population follows suit. We’ll end up just like the dictatorship we’re currently fighting! A case of follow-the-fucking-leader and kill everyone who’s different.’

Oh dear, Jim thought, he’s getting passionate, and it’s dangerous territory. I’ll have to nip this one in the bud.

‘I intend to do a feature on the whole sordid business,’ Pete declared, by now so carried away that he’d convinced himself Jim’s silence was some form of tacit agreement. ‘I’m going to write about the injustice being done to Tony Baldini and all the other innocent Aussies labelled enemies because of their ethnicity! And I’m going to write about the potential bloody genocide threatening our Aboriginal men!’ He gave the desk an emphatic thump with his fist. ‘I’m going to write a bloody exposé, Jim,’ he concluded defiantly.

‘No you’re not.’

Halted in his tracks, Pete stared back wordlessly at his boss.

‘You can’t do that, mate, and you bloody well know it.’

‘Why not?’ Pete demanded.

‘The censors, that’s why not,’ Jim replied curtly. ‘If I printed an article like that they’d close the paper. We have to abide by the dictates, Pete, you know it as well as I do. We’re to “maintain high morale on the home front” at all times, and print what the Department of Information wants us to print.’

‘Which means we’re just a fucking propaganda machine,’ Pete growled.

‘There is that aspect, yes,’ Jim agreed, ‘but wartime censorship serves a purpose. The government wants to avoid any unrest or panic on the home front.’

‘Which is why the true number of dead in the Darwin bombing was misreported,’ Pete interrupted.

Jim ignored the remark. ‘And they want to prevent any false impressions of Australia overseas.’

‘Or maybe any true impressions,’ Pete said scathingly.

Jim ignored that remark, too. ‘All of which is totally understandable,’ he went on. ‘Best to toe the line, Pete,’ he said calmly, as if stroking an agitated puppy, ‘no point in making waves, mate.’

Christ alive, Pete thought, two clichés in one sentence, he’s outdoing himself today.

Jim and Pete got on well as a rule. Jim recognised the talent of the new kid on the block and Pete respected the older man’s experience in the field. Jim Burnet’s tendency to favour clichés did occasionally get on Pete’s nerves, however.