The Keeper of the Rooster

​The air on Coochiemudlo Island didn’t smell like war. It smelled of salt crusting on mangroves and the sweet, heavy scent of damp earth in the vegetable patch. But eleven-year-old Elsie knew the war was there. She could hear it in the low, rhythmic thrum of the Brisbane Line defenses and the sharp crack of Lee-Enfield rifles echoing from the mainland.

​The Bay of Giants

​Elsie squinted against the midday glare. Out in the Bay, the water was a shimmering sheet of brass. Her big brother, Arthur, was out there somewhere. He was "training," which to Elsie meant sleeping in a canvas tent on the western side of the island that smelled of damp mildew and citronella oil. [^1]

​She remembered the way his skin felt the last time she’d seen him—hot and damp. He’d been bitten by "mozzies" until his arms were a map of red welts. Even though he was only a mile away, he felt like a ghost. Mum and Dad spoke of him in hushed, jagged whispers that stopped the moment the screen door creaked.

​The Commute

​"Time for school, Elsie!" Mum called, her voice tight.

​The trip to school was no simple walk. Elsie felt the rough grain of the wooden thwarts beneath her legs as she sat in the small rowboat. Sometimes, when the tide was low and the water glassy, she’d watch the older boys swim the channel to Victoria Point, their tanned arms cutting through the cool, salt-heavy blue [^2].

At school, the "three Rs" had been replaced by a new ritual: the air raid drill. The scent of floor wax and old pencil shavings filled her nose as she pressed her cheek against the cool timber floor, imagining the sky falling in [^3].

​The War in the Backyard

​Back home, the Bay was a theater of steel. Elsie sat perched on a She-oak branch, her bare toes digging into the corky bark. She watched the "Higgins" landing boats tear through the water, leaving massive, frothing white wakes. The front ramps slammed into the shallows with a heavy, metallic clack.

​Soldiers tumbled out with a rhythmic slosh-thud-slosh. But the "scared" part would creep in with the sharp, acrid sting of diesel fumes and the sight of men with dark, greasy camo-paint on their faces. They looked like hunters.

​The Secret of the Garden

​Rationing meant the sticky-sweet tang of tinned jam was a distant memory [^4].

Elsie’s contribution was the "poultry run." She loved the soft, frantic cheep-cheep of new chicks and the smooth, warm weight of a freshly laid egg.

​But one night, she heard the "hushed tones" through the thin timber walls. "The rations won't last," Mum fretted.

"We have the Rooster," Grandpa’s voice was a dry, papery whisper. "He’s a big bird. He’ll feed us for two days."

​Elsie bolted upright, the bitter, metallic tang of adrenaline coating her tongue. Not the Rooster. Not her "argy-bargy" friend with feathers like burnished copper.

​The Stand

​The next morning, the sun rose in a haze of apricot. Elsie slipped out, her bare feet stinging against the icy dew. She found the Rooster on his stump. He let out a crow—a brass-bright, defiant bugle.

​When Dad appeared with a burlap sack, the twine hissing as he tightened his grip, Elsie didn't move. She scooped the bird up, feeling his sturdy heartbeat and the waxy texture of his feathers against her chest.

​"No," she said, her voice ringing with sharp clarity. "I’ll find more pipis in the sand for the hens. I’ll work the garden until my hands bleed. Just... not him."

​Dad looked at the bird, then at Elsie’s mud-stained toes. He sighed—a long, weary exhale. He dropped the sack; it hit the dirt with a soft, dusty puff. ​"Better get to the weeding then," he grunted.

​As he turned away, Elsie gave the Rooster a secret pat. The war was still out there—she could hear the faint, metallic drone of a scout plane—but here, in the salt-air sanctuary of Coochie, she had won her first battle.

​Factual References

​[^1]: Wartime Training: During 1942-43, Coochiemudlo and the surrounding Redland coast were used extensively for amphibious landing rehearsals by the 7th Australian Division and US Army personnel (Operation DT).

[^2]: The Channel: Before a regular ferry service, islanders relied on private rowboats or motorboats to reach Victoria Point. Swimming the channel was a known feat for strong local swimmers, though dangerous due to currents.

[^3]: Air Raid Drills: Queensland schools during the "Pacific Scare" (1942) practiced slit-trench huddles or "duck and cover" drills, often requiring students to hold a rubber cork between their teeth to prevent injury from blast concussions.

[^4]: Rations: Food rationing began in Australia in 1942. Sugar, butter, and meat were strictly controlled. Families on islands like Coochie relied heavily on "victory gardens," fishing, and backyard poultry to supplement their diet.

Editors note: while the idea for this story was mine, and hand written in my notebook during a meeting to organise ANZAC Day 2026, my AI buddy helped refine the story and did a 27 second fact-check, included above.