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Pat Ritter. Books


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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Tue Aug 15, 2017 10:56 pm

'The Drover' - Page 52:

‘We were losing men and the people of Singapore were being killed – it was a massacre – we had to do something; surrender was the only option.’ Ted admitted sadly.
Harry couldn’t think of anymore to ask Ted, his mind filled with horror when he visioned death, war and thought how lucky he was to be a drover, ‘we better get back to the job at hand – are you okay?’ Harry asked.
‘Yeah, I’ll be okay – I’ve never told anyone about this before and it sort of shakes me up a bit with the memory of it. I don’t know how we survived but not all of us got through.’
Both men looked at each other in wonderment, Harry thinking how in hell anyone survived and his job as a drover was an easy one compared to fighting in a war.
Ted became solemn, thinking about his mates he buried and left behind. It was a time in his life he wished to block out but talking to Harry released ghosts from the past. It was good to face those ghosts head on and talk to someone about what happened to bring them out into the open.
‘Okay you two back on the job.’ Rose sang out in a bid to tell Harry and her Pa there was work to do and another couple of miles to go for the day. It was day two and another twenty-eight days before they reached their destination.

Droving sheep is looking at the arse-end of a sheep most of the day; there wasn’t much else to do but dream of what may be, possibly enjoying a swim in the afternoon or late evening in the river. Rose thought of these things and fishing, she loved fishing since her first time when she caught a yellow belly. It was the first fish she had caught in her life.
Henry had the camp established by late afternoon when the mob arrived to be locked away for the night.

One day melted into the next and each day Ted shared his story with Harry, ‘after we surrendered we marched 20 miles to Changi Prison, men cried with disappointment. I drank half a bottle of wine and went to sleep. In the early part the Japanese were decent blokes, we had plenty of food and wine.’
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Wed Aug 16, 2017 11:15 pm

'The Drover' - Page 53:

‘Where did you get the wine?’ Harry asked inquisitively.
‘Japanese didn’t move into our District Headquarters; we raided the place and took all the liquor. The men were in a good mood; we drank the wine and liquor at headquarters that night before we marched next morning.’
‘I think I would’ve done the same.’ Harry said.
‘In the beginning we didn’t know what to expect only when we marched to Changi Prison. We were treated with respect, especially the Australian troops, most of the men made it. There were many dead along the way. A truckload of dead past us and I understood why we surrendered.’
Ted looked exhausted sharing his story with Harry who felt a blow by blow experience visualised in his mind the atrocities caused by war. Ted shared small parts of his experience with Harry; a little at a time and each time Harry was engrossed by the story; he almost forgot about droving.
Rose took over the droving at times which allowed Harry and her father to talk. She saw a difference in her father and was surprised he confided in Harry, more than he confided in her, to share his experiences of the war. He’d never shared those experiences with her or anyone else.
They crossed the Queensland-New South Wales border at Barringun and this was cause for celebration. Rose stayed in camp with Henry while Harry and Ted rode to the pub.
Rose didn’t mind remaining in the camp with Henry for over the time they’d been on the drove each shared their life experiences. Rose was surprised to hear Henry was an aboriginal commonly referred to as the ‘stolen generation’.
He was born on the northern aboriginal camp Hollywood where he lived with his parents and many aunts and uncles.
When he was a baby, government people came to the camp and took him away. He was raised by white people until he was twenty-one years old. He knew all about the white man’s way of life and happy with his upbringing; however, he was aboriginal and needed to be with his own people.
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Thu Aug 17, 2017 11:10 pm

'The Drover' - Page 54:

On his twenty-first birthday his release from the white people surprised him; he returned to Cunnamulla and to Hollywood. There he found his gin and under tribal law they became husband and wife. He built their home from a half 1000 gallon galvanised water tank and within a couple of years he felt he owned the world with his wife and children.
They heard loud male voices singing –, ‘they’re back from the pub, Harry’s singing his favourite song ‘Saddle Boy.’ Henry expressed.
‘Sounds like they had a good time, I’m pleased Harry is getting along with Pa because he needs someone he can talk to.’ Rose remarked.
Harry and Ted rode into camp almost falling from their mounts and the words, ‘saddle boy ride for home’ sang through the silence of the night. They were both intoxicated to the level of inebriation. Both fell from their horses and landed on the ground, ‘I’ll do it – go to bed both of you.’ Rose interrupted.
Harry smiled up at Rose with a cheeky grin on his face, ‘you’ll make a horse tailer yet,’ he mumbled. Rose put her arms around his broad shoulders to take his weight. Harry felt he was in heaven and being rescued by an angel, ‘you are beautiful – you know.’ He whispered close to her ear.
‘Off to bed, and thanks for looking after Pa, he’s a changed man since he’s been talking to you.’ She placed a goodnight kiss on the side of his cheek. Harry felt light headed and made his way toward the camp. Ted retired to his swag while Harry took his boots off and fell into his swag, ‘we had a bloody good night Ted – you beat me with those rum chases.’ Ted didn’t hear Harry because he was sound asleep and snoring.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Fri Aug 18, 2017 10:45 pm

'The Drover' - Page 55:

When daylight broke the next morning two men limped around the camp with their heads hung low trying to remove the alcohol taste from their mouths.
‘Breakfast is ready.’ Henry called, ‘greasy chops and eggs – come and get em. You look like you had a good time last night.’
‘Henry, I don’t know how Ted put so many rum chases away – you wouldn’t believe how many, I thought he had hollow legs.’ Harry commented.
‘Get into this tucker and you’ll feel better.’
Rose and Ted joined the camp, ‘your horse is saddled and ready Harry.’ Rose said.
‘Ah..thanks, Rose,’ was all he could say? His thoughts were different; he didn’t wash his face and still felt her soft lips against his cheek. A slight smile broke across his face.
After breakfast it was back on the road for droving to continue. Mid-morning they stopped for a break and Harry wanted to hear more of Ted’s story about the war.
‘Where were we, ah..that’s right – we arrived at Changi Prison, food was good and plenty of water. A couple of soldiers tried to escape but were re-captured and told to walk back to camp. They were lucky.’
‘Did you ever think about escape?’ Harry asked.
‘Not on your Nellie – Japanese were everywhere on the island, I wanted to stay alive. I cobbered up with a couple of mates and we cooked and cared for one another, they were good blokes – we stuck together.’
‘How did they feed you?’ Harry asked.
‘At the start they gave us plenty of food, particularly rice and we scrounged food where we could get it. One of my mates found pawpaws and another made rissoles from crusts of bread and bully beef.’
Ted continued his story; he felt comfortable sharing it with Harry. He trusted him. It was when he told him about burying dead Chinese shot by the Japanese and the bodies were 24 hours old, memories returned to haunt him. He continued his story of how he survived on rations of rice and water and lived out in the open until the camp was organised for the prisoners to be housed in the jail; ate rice for breakfast, lunch and dinner, he wondered how he did survive. Was it any wonder his nightmares of this incarceration continued to this day. Harry couldn’t believe how Ted survived through his ordeal of imprisonment.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sat Aug 19, 2017 10:39 pm

'The Drover' - Page 56:

They were two days from the final leg of their trip when storm cloud darkened the sky. ‘We’re in for a good one – look at those clouds building in the east, that’s where the bad storms come from.’ Harry told the others.
‘Whata want to do Boss?’ Henry asked.
‘We’ll put these babies to bed early and make the camp safe and have an early night.’ Harry told the others.
The sheep were herded into the brake and everyone returned to the camp, thunder roared overhead, splinters of lightning flashed across the sky.
Henry moved the truck to higher ground just in case the storm clouds broke. On the black soil there is an old saying, you stick to it in the dry and it’ll stick to you in the wet. He’d bogged the truck before and knew he didn’t want to dig it out of a bog hole again.
After setting up camp on higher solid ground Henry prepared dinner. A huge tarpaulin swung over the truck fastened by steel picket pegs driven into the ground – on the horizon deep black clouds blackened the sky. Wind blew hard - Henry placed a sheet of galvanised iron sheeting around the fire and camp ovens to stop the fire from blowing out.
‘It’s going to be a doozie of a storm, Boss.’ Henry said in alarm.
‘That’s drovin for ya – it takes all types of weather.’ Harry commented.
They were safe – it wouldn’t matter how much terror the storm showed; they were safe.
TO PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Sun Aug 20, 2017 10:37 pm

'The Drover' - Page 57:

After eating a hearty meal they sat around the camp fire to yarn. It started to rain, heavier and heavier the drops hit the tarpaulin swiftly running off the edges forming a river on the ground.
‘What about we go to bed, I can’t hear anything you’re saying.’ Harry said. Everybody retired to their swags in the back of the truck.
What was it about sleeping in a warm swag in the back of a truck under a tarpaulin listening to the pitter patter of rain? Harry thought. Is it a feeling of safety being out of the rain, or is it a feeling of contentment and warmth? Before he could count sheep his eyes closed and his dreams surfaced of Rose. If there was a heaven it was close by.
By morning the rain persisted. Lucky Henry parked the truck on high ground because where the sheep were housed was a flood. Water gushed through their legs across the black soil. Their wool was short having recently been shorn and it was the job of Harry, Ted and Rose to move the sheep to higher ground.
‘Open the brake Ted and let em out, there’ll be a few weak ones but we’ll need to carry them to higher ground’. The rain lashed their faces and wind blew hard. Many of the sheep escaped from their night camp leaving twenty to slug their way through the rain and black soil. Ten sheep bogged to their hocks.
Harry was on foot and beside him Rose slushed her way through the black soil and the torrid rain. They worked together grabbing hold of each wether, one by one, man handled it to force it onto higher ground to join its mates.
‘One gone and nine left.’ Harry shouted through the wind and rain toward Rose when the first one struck higher ground.
Whilst Harry manhandled the head of the wether, Rose held onto the rear end and pushed each sheep with her shoulder, one by one crawled their way to higher ground until the last one was about to join the mob, ‘we should have moved this one first.’ Harry said with a smile on his face.
PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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Re: Pat Ritter. Books

Postby patritter » Mon Aug 21, 2017 10:29 pm

'The Drover' - Page 58:

Rose grinned and looked at Harry. She was beautiful, her hair flatten by the rain tucked under the akubra hat, her smile delicious and warm, ‘why did you say about moving the last one first, it doesn’t make sense.’ She said.
‘If we’d moved the last one, first, then we wouldn’t have needed to move it again – would we.’
‘You’re stupid.’
The mob moved to higher ground and walked along the stock route. Harry mounted his horse and whistled the dogs to keep the mob heading south. The rain stopped, the sun broke through the clouds. They were one day from finishing the drive.
Before he delivered the sheep he needed to count them to ensure the correct number was there for delivery. Harry’s way of counting sheep was unique. He rode to the front of the mob with Rose.
‘Ted and Henry - Rose and I will count the sheep along the next fence. You two push them up with the dogs.’ He commanded.
The stock route was positioned parallel to the main highway from Cunnamulla to Bourke. A stock fence divided the highway on the outskirts of Bourke. This was an opportune place to count the sheep. He instructed Rose to stand opposite him.
He took a box of matches from his pocket and emptied the contents.
‘Put these matches in one hand and when I call out a number; place one of the matches into your pocket.’ She took the matches in her left hand.
‘Send them up.’ Harry called to the others. The sheep moved toward Harry and Rose who stood opposite one another to form a funnel to let the sheep move between them.
When a number of sheep rushed through the gap, Harry called out, ‘one’ and continued to count to himself, each time he called the number ‘one’ Rose placed a match into her top shirt pocket.
PURCHASE THIS BOOK CLICK HERE: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/95766
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