‘I don’t believe this,’ he said when, on the very first leave they were granted, he and Rupe and Willie headed straight into town. ‘Where are the signs?’ he asked, gazing about the streets; at a bus passing by, at the open doorways of buildings, of shops and bars. ‘Where’s all the “blacks only”? Where’s all the “whites only”? There are no signs in this place.’

Kasey was amazed to discover segregation did not exist in Townsville. It astounded him to know that he could catch the same taxi as a white man; that he could travel on the same public transport as a white man; that cinemas and entertainment areas were open to both black and white. There were even hotels and brothels that catered for both, or so he was told. Admittedly, with the Americans in town, blacks and whites seemed to favour either one establishment or the other, he was informed, but this was by personal choice, not officially by law.

‘And the people are so darn nice,’ he said, ‘I don’t feel any hate.’ His look to Rupe was one of puzzlement. ‘So why did they kill off their own blacks?’

‘I don’t know,’ Rupe said, ‘just something I read somewhere.’

The 96th Battalion had set up camp at Farrington Farms about four miles south of Townsville, a makeshift camp to start with, one-man pup tents, while they settled in and were given their work orders. But the men didn’t mind. This was a welcoming place and trips into town, to dances and concerts and pubs, and for those in the mood brothels, alleviated the boredom and dissatisfaction of their work.

And their work was certainly boring, offering little by way of personal satisfaction. It was also hard and exhausting. Extending the runways of Garbutt Airfield to accommodate the ever-increasing activity of American aircraft, particularly the massive B-17 bombers that were shortly to arrive in numbers, was an arduous task.

‘I guess we found out what we’re going to be doing,’ Kasey complained as, side by side and in a long line of others reminiscent of a chain gang, he and Willie dug away at the ground with picks and shovels. ‘We’re going to be spending the entire war shovelling shit from one place to another.’

Willie, lanky, fit and with an easy disposition, gave a pleasant nod but made no remark. Accustomed to heavy-duty athletic training, he quite liked the mindlessness of hard physical work. And besides, Kase was just being Kase.

Aware he was going to get no backup from Willie, Kasey raised the complaint with Rupe later in the day as they queued up for lunch at the canteen tent.

‘Downright slave labour it is,’ he said. ‘And what kind of soldiers does it make us anyway? I joined the army to fight, not shovel shit.’