Anzacs

‘Select arresting quotes. Let your characters speak if the evidence is there,’ A.J.P. Taylor told his Oxford history students. In his own best-selling The First World War: An Illustrated History, struggling to convey something of the enormity of the disaster of the third battle of Ypres, Taylor wrote: ‘On 8 November Haig’s Chief-of-Staff visited the fighting zone for the first time. As his car struggled through the mud, he burst into tears and cried: “Good God, did we really send men to fight in that?” His companion replied: “It’s worse further up.”’

Anthony Hill begins his biography of Jim Martin by describing Martin’s death. Beginning the story of a person’s life by going straight to the end is unusual but wholly appropriate in this case because Jim Martin’s fame lies solely in the fact that his death at the age of fourteen, at Gallipoli, makes him the youngest known Australian soldier ever to die in a war.

Mr Jackson’s book narrates his experience and that of a friend as prisoners of the Japanese in Thailand during World War II. It is neither a good nor memorable book, but it does raise, however unintentionally, significant issues. In a nation still bereft of a civil religion, that amalgam of myths and tales of heroes which defines a country’s sense of self and values, the experiences described by Mr Jackson should be honoured.