Arch Flanagan, a retired school teacher living in Tasmania, was in his 70s before he began to write about his World War II experiences on the Thai-Burma Railway. His story is published in The Line, a collaborative project with his son, writer and journalist Martin Flanagan.
Arch believes in writing succinctly, allowing the spaces, the things he does not say, to illuminate that which he commits to the page. His voice is unmistakably old Australian, marked by two world wars and a strong sense of humanity.
The Line is made up of four pieces Arch wrote. Throughout the book Martin provides commentary, offering insights into who his father was before and after the war, and reflections on his own visit to the Thai-Burma railway with Weary Dunlop—who Martin never heard of until 1985—and a group of old diggers. That tour brought the line vividly to life for Martin. It was a son’s attempt to understand the defining experience of his father’s life.
We also get a sense of what it was like growing up in a family where his father’s war experiences, although never explicitly talked about, permeated the household and the lives of each of his six children.
In the introduction, Jo Flanagan, one of Arch’s daughters, writes: ‘My brother is right. We are children of the line.’ She recalls other ‘children of the line’ she’s met whose fathers were prisoners-of-war but died either during the war or in the decade after. Jo writes:
I’ve sat in my parents’ kitchen on the occasions when they (children of the line) have visited, listening to Dad tell them whatever he could recall of their father—a song sung at campsite, a joke, a glimpse of the face—words to try to fill their lifetime of longing. And even those of us who grew up with our fathers will probably spend our lives trying to understand the nature of this experience.
The story begins in Cleveland, Tasmania, at the start of World War I, when Arch Flanagan was born.
‘If the onset of war heralded my birth, its aftermath marked my first remembered years,’ writes Arch. It would also mark his adult life. He’s not keen to talk too much about himself before the war, but Martin’s commentary fills in the gaps.
The second chapter is Arch’s account of his war years. We travel with the young soldier—one who for several days after enlistment wonders if he’s done the right thing—from