AustLit

'John Schumann's song 'I was only Nineteen' contains the line 'The Anzac Legend didn't mention Mud,' which might be reasonably read as the dirt music of Australian literary responses to the Great War of 1914-1918. This article argues that Leonard Mann's 1932 novel Flesh in Armour is both an exception and indicative novel of Australian wartime experiences on the Western Front. Contaminated mud features as a persistent metaphor of abjection. Yet the sacralised beach and rocky outcrops of Gallipoli and the desert sands of the Middle East had the effect of obscuring the filth and tragedy of war in the trenches and across no-man's land. The article compares E P F Lynch's Somme Mud and Frederic Manning's The Middle Parts of Fortune with Flesh in Armour and speculates on influences emanating from Erich Maria Remarque's All Quiet on the Western Front.'  (Publication abstract)

 (Introduction)

'This chapter considers silencing in relation to women’s writing on the First World War. Women claimed spaces to voice war’s impact both during the conflict and long after cessation of hostilities in November 1918, while negotiating expectations for emotion to be contained, grief to be observed in quietude and male heroism to be revered and privileged. Focussing on practices and motifs of silencing, we cut across prevailing notions that women’s war writing is merely trite and in thrall to duty, heroism and sacrifice for nation and empire to identify sites of conflict, compliance and disruption and speculate on the creation of empathetic communities through writing.'

Source: Abstract.

In this paper, Richard Nile attempts to 'locate Flesh in Armour within the context of a different taboo subject - the treatment of the dead in war.'

'In the last months of his life, 86-year-old Albert Facey became a best-selling author and revered cultural figure following the publication of his autobiography, A Fortunate Life. Released on Anzac Day 1981, it was praised for its “plain, unembellished, utterly sincere and un-self-pitying account of the privations of childhood and youth” (Semmler) and “extremely powerful description of Gallipoli” (Dutton 16). Within weeks, critic Nancy Keesing declared it an “Enduring Classic.” Within six months, it was announced as the winner of two prestigious non-fiction awards, with judges acknowledging Facey’s “extraordinary memory” and “ability to describe scenes and characters with great precision” (“NBC” 4). ' (Introduction)

In this essay, Richard Nile suggests that 'Australia

s war literatures are not to be found only on the beaches of Gallipoli, the trenches of the Western front, or among the shifting sands of Beersheba but predominantly among the ordinary everyday experiences of Australians who did not necessarily take up arms in battle but who carried much of the war's heavy burden for the duration and deep into the peace.' (19)

Nile argues that: 'In reading history, as with literature, we seek to better understand the motives of those involved. And we accept that, as with our own lives, there are both intended and unintended consequences of our actions.

'To argue otherwise is to reiterate a falsehood of casue and effect in a world divided by goodies and baddies. Life is more wondrous and complex, more powerful and terrifying, but we are better informed because of the good literature and the good histories we read. We do not require counterfactuals to know that this may be so.'