Parer's War Page #3

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you've never even

properly kissed me before.

No, I didn't mean it like that.

What an awful thing to say!

I meant we should think about it.

How could you even ask me

when you're drunk?

No, I thought you wanted...

To be insulted?

'Oh, yeah, Cotter's

the sort of girl

who's no better

than she should be. '

I'd never talk about you like that.

Is that why you stopped writing

and you didn't tell me

when you were back?

No.

Well, then why?

I don't know why.

Well, that makes two of us.

Why don't you try and talk to me

when you're sober,

if you even remember!

You shouldn't be out here like that.

Oh, Father, forgive me,

for I've really sinned.

Not only parking with my boyfriend

and improperly dressed,

in fact, I'm not dressed at all.

Although I can't see Mum's chenille

inspiring anyone to lust.

But I could be wrong.

Oh.

And would it be an actual occasion

of sin

if Dad was watching us

the whole time?

He'd let you come out

and sit with me like that?

No, of course not.

He told me to fetch you in before

all the neighbours are up,

or you'll cause talk.

Oh.

For love is heaven,

and heaven is love.

Isn't Diana just everything?

I think I've truly lost my heart

this time.

Well, then

you're a lucky bastard.

You have to let it happen, Damien.

I think I asked Cotter to marry me

last night.

You think?

I made a real muck of it.

Go and take her for a picnic

or something, old fella.

Try and come home to us

for a while.

Hey!

Whoo!

Ah!

You lose!

Ah!

Oh...

Not likely.

Ah. Race you back up.

Hey! Hang on!

What happened to 'ready, set, go'?

So you can get a head start?

I don't think so!

Oh!

Slowcoach!

You spoilsport!

Hurry up! What's keeping you

so long?

Come on, Cotter! Pull your weight!

You are a cheat!

It'll take a penance

and an act of contrition

to get you out of that one.

Come on.

Here. Help me.

Help me!

Help me, Damien.

Here.

Take this.

What is it, darling?

It's nothing.

Sometimes I think I'm not much good

to you, or anyone, for that matter.

I know, but I've got

to do something

for the war effort, don't I?

You'll find no useful answer

in questioning God's purpose

for us.

Purpose?

What purpose is there

in so much suffering?

There's not an ounce of mercy in it.

It's not a fair go.

He tests our faith.

Every day of our lives, son.

I can cop that, Father,

but not when he tears apart

some other bloke to do it.

You'd be thinking

they're never gonna make it,

then they'd dig their big toe in

and inch their way up.

You've spent a lot of footage

on these native bearers.

Almost as many shots as you have

on the troops.

Because that's the story, Ken.

'No boongs, no battle,'

the boys reckon.

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