The Ghost of Benanee - Sex Stories

The Ghost of Benanee

... station tank is dry is not what we should be doing.

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22 Sept

Harry has gone downhill again. He sits in the middle of the paddock poking the dirt with a stick. The neighbours say a break should come soon. I hope so.

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15 October 1929

A few clouds, a few drops. As a little girl I believed in God, and devoutly prayed to him every Sunday. Then the priest told me my thoughts were impure, and then I started work. I thought the misery wrought by diseases and maimings from factories and automobiles was bad but why would a loving God inflict the horrors I saw in the Great War upon his children? And why treat us like this, here? This is supposed to be a garden of Eden.

If there is a God, he's a spiteful bastard.

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20 Oct

That grumpy Lord be praised, some work happening at Mylatchie station. A large dray turned up with the worker's camp gear, and they won't be far behind. The rails have just about reached Koorakee, so if we get a crop, we won't have to cart it all the way to Robinvale. Our poor old lorry is taking a beating on these tracks.

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30 Oct

Last night was bad. Harry was curled up into me, blubbering like a child. A dry thunderstorm rolled through, sounding off like a barrage of heavies. I fear the worry of his first crop failing and the pressure of needing to meet the lease expectations has aggravated his shell shock. Sorry, 'Psycho-neurosis', using the new term. I guess that is a better description for what happened to most ...

... sufferers. From what I saw, shelling wasn't always a factor. Being surrounded constantly by death and destruction was.

I wish I was holding you.

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November 11

The anniversary of the supposed end of the Great War to end all wars. I fervently hope that's true, but I doubt that. Men will be men.

We were invited to the memorial service, and I surprisingly received my own invitation. Word has got out that not only was I an Army nurse who saw duty at 3AGH in Lemnos, I was assigned to 2ACCS at Trois Arbres and most likely treated a few of the ex-soldiers here. I could not say for certain though. There were so many passing through the clearing station, caked with the mud, blood and general filth that had accumulated over the years at the bottom of the trenches.

We politely declined to attend. Our paddock looks like the Egyptian desert, except redder.

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2 Dec

Such melancholy thoughts, Annie. Harry has gone to Melbourne to talk to the bank about extending our, well his loan. As a returned soldier, they will consider his request, but my service doesn't count. Apparently being a woman and 7000 yards from the trenches is too far to be considered frontline service, even though we were bombed, shelled, and suffered from the haze of mustard gas if ever the wind blew from the east.

So I'm alone with my memories. I can faintly hear the workers at the station, laughing and carrying on. The foreman, John, has asked if I could attend to any injured worker, if ...