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It was a calm, sultry afternoon at the Carroll residence in Cora Lynn. The date was Friday, 10 December 1948.  Jack was ploughing the back paddock of his small, eighty-acre share farm, and it was hot and sweaty work even with Jesse, his trusted old Clydesdale, shouldering most of the load.

Jack’s young wife, Lorna, was in the farmhouse laundry attending to the ironing, her newborn of two weeks, Maureen, sleeping soundly in the next room. Brian, their firstborn, just turned four, and Leonard, the dark one, eighteen months, were outside playing with bat and ball. Jack had started them young. It was Jack’s dream to sire at least eleven boys, enough to form a cricket team and more than half an Aussie Rules football team.

Maureen’s arrival had been a hiccup, but that wasn’t going to dampen Jack’s plans. He had been taught the value of hard work as a boy by staunch Irish parents who toiled the land during the desperate days of the Great Depression, when Jack was the eldest of five. Maureen was merely an extra mouth to feed. And the handsome couple had started young – Jack was still only twenty-six and Lorna twenty-three. There was plenty of time for many more children.

Sporting Dreams

Jack had been obsessed with the challenge and thrill of most sports from early childhood. As he progressed from childhood to adolescence, the obsession remained. Having become accustomed to the bustle of work on the land, Jack had never been interested in schoolwork, although he was far from unintelligent. After farm chores and sport, there wasn’t any time for studies; Jack got his Intermediate and went straight to work on the land.

He had excelled at virtually any sport, however, and league football clubs showed a keen interest in him from a very young age. But it was as a long jumper that he seemed destined to make his mark – he had cleared twenty-two feet consistently when barely sixteen, and a tilt at the Olympics appeared a formality.

However, the Second World War had put a stop to all that. By seventeen, Jack was a member of the Royal Australian Air Force. He first set eyes on Lorna when on leave attending a wedding, and it seems Lorna also set eyes on Jack, for it became a family joke as to who could remember the names of the bride and groom, such was the number of furtive glances between the star-struck pair.

Jack and Lorna wed early in 1944 when Jack was still in service, and Brian was born in December of the same year. Lorna was not yet twenty, and Jack only twenty-two.

After the war, Jack found himself having to decide between major league football, which was not lucrative at the time, and farm life coupled with a position as captain-coach of a country league team. He chose the latter and, though he was happy — he honestly thought Lorna was the most beautiful woman in the world — he dreamed of seeing his sons have the opportunity to rise to sporting heights.

Silence

Lorna glanced at the five neat piles of freshly pressed clothes and the number in the basket still to do. She stretched her arms and decided to check that Maureen was still sleeping soundly. As Lorna passed through the laundry doorway, it crossed her mind that it was noiseless outside – she hadn’t heard a peep from Brian and Leonard for some time and, while that might have been normal for Leonard, it certainly wasn’t for Brian. Maybe it would be wise to check outside first.

Brian and Leonard didn’t respond to Lorna’s calls, and she began to feel anxious. It was too quiet. Lorna noticed the house-yard gate was open, and she instinctively headed towards the milk-shed. It was still an hour before Jack would bring the cows up for milking. Lorna called again. Nothing! Mild panic started setting in as she began to run. When she reached the far side of the shed and saw the lid of the underground well had been removed, she let out a gasp, “No, please God, no!”

Jack had turned old Jesse at the eastern end and prepared himself for another long furrow when he glanced up across the full length of the paddock and saw movement in the laneway – it was Brian, alone. Instinct told him to run, and to run fast. He cleared four barbed-wire fences in almost full stride and arrived at the well to see Lorna hanging by her feet. He glanced down and saw Leonard seemingly going down for the last time.

Jack grabbed Lorna’s ankles and called to her, “Grab an arm, Lorna, and I’ll pull you both up.”

Leonard looked like a giant blue balloon and was lifeless. Jack yelled to Brian to run across the paddocks to Reid’s and tell them to call the hospital. He swiftly ripped Leonard’s clothes off and tried everything he knew to make him respond in some way, to force water out, to let air in. Nothing!

After two long minutes, with no response at all, Jack said quietly and slowly, “It’s no use, he’s dead.” He placed Leonard on the well’s embankment and stood up.

Lorna was sobbing heavily, “No, Jack, no!”

Jack put his arms tenderly around his dear wife and said gently and resignedly, “Let it go, Lorna.”

Survival

While he cradled her head in his strong arms, he looked down at his dead son with his feet at the mouth of the well and his head down the embankment, and his heart leaped violently — water was slowly streaming from the sides of Leonard’s mouth.

Jack thrust Lorna aside and grabbed Leonard by the feet, holding him upside down with his left hand while striking him on the back with the butt of his right hand, shouting, “Breathe, damn you, breathe.” One tremendous whack between the shoulder blades suddenly sent a torrent of vomit from Leonard’s lungs, and air rushed in. However, his breathing was very fitful. “Get something to wrap him in, Lorna,” Jack exclaimed.

Within five minutes, they were out the front gate in Jack’s old Hillman, Lorna next to Jack with Leonard across her lap, Maureen in a bassinet on the back seat. They passed Ben Reid’s red Bentley heading towards their farm, but didn’t stop – Jack was sure he saw Brian seated next to Ben. A few minutes later, they were fortunate to see the hospital vehicle traveling towards them because Jack was driving faster than he probably should have been. Jack flashed his lights, and both came to a halt. A quick transfer was made, and Leonard was rushed to the Bunyip Bush Hospital, the same hospital where he had been born only eighteen months earlier.

Jack and Lorna sat for what seemed an eternity, Brian, unusually quiet, next to them. Ben had done a U-turn and followed them, but couldn’t stay – “The cows wait for no man, Jack.” You wouldn’t miss a month’s milk, Jack thought, but expressed his gratitude nonetheless. Ben was wealthy – the Depression had been kind to those who had money and could use it to buy out those going broke. He had taken Jack on as a share farmer, so he, Jack, couldn’t complain – many people were far worse off, even when things had begun to pick up after the war.

Finally, a doctor walked into the waiting room. “Jack, Lorna, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Jack quietly responded.

“I’m Doctor Michael Cahill,” the doctor replied. “I don’t know how he’s alive — it’s a miracle. However, he’s still in grave danger. We need to keep his body warm, and we have injected penicillin to fight lung infection. He had already vomited into both lungs, as you are probably aware, so it is incredible that he is still with us. But it is touch-and-go. Penicillin is a new drug, a wonder drug they say, but it will need to be and, even if Leonard does respond to it, he will still be here for months, I’d say.”

“Can he recover, doctor? I mean, will he be able to lead a normal life?” Jack queried.

“Jack, you and Lorna have had a big day. I can’t tell you what the long-term prognosis is. I have never encountered anything like this. Keeping him alive is all we can concentrate on at the moment. What’s happened already is amazing, so I would just keep praying.”

“Can we see him, please, doctor?” Lorna asked apprehensively.

“Of course, you can, Lorna. He’s sleeping at the moment and being continually monitored; so, I don’t think it would be wise to stay too long. He’s getting some natural colour back, but he’s all tuckered out as is to be expected; so, please don’t disturb him. But I’ll take you through to see him, by all means. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, both of you. And the young one can come along too, of course,” he added as he nodded towards Brian. Maureen was in Lorna’s arms, and Brian was seated, still very reticent.

Down a long corridor, a shorter one to the left, through a door, and there Leonard was, in a small bed and tucked snugly in, a nurse watching patiently as the slight to and fro of the covers verified that Leonard was indeed alive and breathing. The doctor excused himself and told them that Nurse Cooper would show them out when they were ready to go. Jack and Lorna looked at their son, and Lorna grabbed Jack’s right arm as she whimpered, “Oh, Jack!”

Jack extended his arm around Lorna and said as reassuringly as he could, “He’ll be all right, sweetheart. God has spared him so far. We just have to keep praying, as the doctor said.”

Reunited

Leonard had his second birthday in the hospital but was home a week later, six months to the day since his admission. As the months had passed and the days got colder, the hospital staff had set up a makeshift incubator in the hospital, with light globes strategically placed all around his small body to keep it warm. He had developed double pneumonia and, on several occasions, the doctors thought he wouldn’t survive. They injected him daily with penicillin.

Maureen had thrived, and her hair had grown longer and curlier – it looked like she was going to stay blonde for her hair was far lighter than Brian’s, which had gradually gone brown and was growing darker by the day. She was a beautiful baby; her teeth were coming along fine, and she was a source of joy to Lorna through difficult months. Brian didn’t seem to have missed Leonard and was growing into a big boy, physically advanced for his age. He had a big appetite and was always on the go – hitting balls against the side of the house or kicking a football back and forth in his imaginary football match.

Jack and Lorna were ecstatic to have their family together again. The doctor in charge at the hospital had informed them that Leonard had made an incredible recovery thus far, and only time would tell if his lungs would hold up – he seemed quite robust considering what he had been through, and he displayed normal response to all stimuli. He would be weak on his legs for a while, but that was only to be expected.

Days passed into weeks, weeks into months, and the family flourished. Work was hard on the land, especially as a share farmer, but Jack and Lorna had their love for each other, and that was all that mattered. Milking twenty cows by hand, filling the cans, putting them out for collection, and cleaning up afterward was the best part of a four-hour job. That was before calf feeding, which could take another hour.

On Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, the cows had to be milked earlier, and Lorna would finish the cleaning and feed the calves. Jack would head for the Cora Lynn football club reserve to supervise training during winter and spring and to the cricket club for much of the same during summer and fall. Then there were games on Saturday. The extra money came in handy, and the young couple looked forward to one day owning a farm.

Family Life

One Sunday evening, Jack came in so tired that he grabbed a pair of long woollen socks from the bottom drawer of the dresser and simply pulled them over his dirty feet.

“Oh, Jack, come on, let me wash them for you,” was the best Lorna could come up with to disguise her genuine disgust.

Jack took a few mouthfuls of the supper, which Lorna had carefully prepared, and headed for bed. “I’m bushed, sweetheart. I just want to sleep.”

Lorna didn’t say another word but thought back to the church that morning, where Jack had seemed to sleep through most of the new young priest’s message. That was unusual for Jack because he took his faith very seriously – something about ‘not worrying about tomorrow, sufficient for the day is its own trouble’ from what Lorna could remember.

The new young priest wasn’t all that new – he had been at the church since just before Leonard’s birth. However, that was new when you consider Father Patrick Murphy had been the parish priest for well over forty years. Father Murphy was getting past it, and young Father Daniel O’Brien had been brought in to give the place some new life. In fact, he had been responsible for Leonard’s christening.

When he had asked Jack what he was naming the latest addition to the parish, Jack had responded, “Patrick James, Father.”

Father O’Brien had replied, without batting an eyelid, “Oh come on now, Jack, we’ve had four Patricks in the last month. Begorrah, the old fellow’s starting to think he’s a saint already. Besides, the lad doesn’t even look like a Patrick. Is there any other name you fancy?”

“I had a close friend called Leonard, Father – a top cyclist killed in a racing accident.”

“Ah, that’s grand, Jack. How does Leonard Patrick sound? It has a solid Irish ring to it, Jack. And, if the fellow you mention was your best friend, then you surely know that Leonard means Lionheart.”

“I think that I’ve heard something to that effect, Father.”

“To be sure, Jack! I know that they call you a lion on the football field. How fitting it would be to give your son that name then, Jack! So, shall we give the little one that grand name?”

“Yes, that will be fine, Father.”

“Done, then! I baptize thee, Leonard Patrick Carroll, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Lorna felt like she had been baptized again as she seemed to cop half the water on her favourite white blouse. He was a rough diamond, Father Daniel, but a diamond he was – everyone appeared to love his cheeky but warm-hearted manner.

Lorna drifted back from her thoughts and looked at Jack. He was already sleeping, but he was red in the face and looked worn out. Lorna fetched a damp face towel and gently wiped it over Jack’s forehead and face.

When Jack had finished milking and cleaning up the next morning, he felt worse than he had the night before. His day always started at five, and it was well after ten when he dragged himself into the house. After gobbling down some porridge, he went to bed to sleep and hopefully recover.

Jack was so tired and feverish when he came in from milking on the Tuesday morning that he simply said, “I’m crook, Lorna. I’ll eat after sleeping.” Lorna sent Brian across to Reid’s to let the football club know that Jack wouldn’t be taking training that evening. She nursed Jack all day and reluctantly took to milking the cows – she had left Maureen in their bedroom, thankfully sleeping when she went out, and the boys were playing marbles on the rug, which covered most of the spare area.

When Lorna came in, it was past ten. She had prayed that all would be OK. She had left the shed for a while a few hours earlier to feed Maureen – mercifully, she was a quiet baby. Jack had fed the boys some Irish stew, put them off to bed, and was changing Maureen’s nappy.

Lorna looked in on the boys, shovelled down what remained of the stew, and quickly changed into nightwear. She then opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulled on a pair of the thick woollen socks, although she didn’t look to see if they were a pair or not – she was too tired to care.

“Boot’s on the other foot now, eh,” Jack whispered.

“Socks, Jack! If you’re that cheeky, you can get out and do the cows in the morning.”

Such was life on the farm in Cora Lynn. Leonard was to endure another three bouts of double pneumonia at four, seven, and nine. It seemed then that he had outgrown his problems. However, it eventuated that he had suffered some damage to his vestibulocochlear apparatus because he needed spectacles at sixteen and hearing aids later in life. Furthermore, he had a problem with differentiating colours.

Although he played A-grade men’s cricket at the tender age of 13 and was a champion athlete, he did not reach the sporting heights of his elder brother and two younger brothers, who all excelled at AFL football. Very strangely, however, Leonard was exceptional at mental arithmetic, without any apparent effort. He was clearly the fastest and most accurate in an IBM test of more than one thousand graduates in 1967.

Rather than work with IBM, which necessitated travelling to Sydney, he became an exceptional Mathematics teacher. His last placement was at Notre Dame College, Shepparton, where he was Mathematics Coordinator. He and his wife returned to Melbourne to live close to and aid a pastor who had befriended Leonard. This pastor had many friends and outreaches in the Philippines. Leonard has befriended many of these people and donated much of his money to help them, especially one gracious pastor who runs an orphanage there.

Later life has brought some residual physical problems, but nothing so severe that it has made life unbearable. Leonard sincerely believes that he has a deeper understanding of people who live life with handicaps of some sort, and considers himself fortuitous for that understanding and the empathy that accompanies it.

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EDITOR’S NOTE: The above article is an excerpt from a spiritual memoir by Leonard Patrick Carroll, available from Amazon, titled “GOD’S SURE THING”, using a pseudonym MALACHI PATRICK CARROLL. He wrote it under a pseudonym to protect the innocent and spare the guilty. He would hope that you find it both entertaining and thought-provoking. It is written in American English for the American market because God has asked him “to do something about the pro-choice movement” prevalent here and in America.

AUTHOR’S STATEMENT: I, Leonard, wish to gain the funds to build a refuge and love hubs for women and girls who find themselves troubled by an unplanned pregnancy. The book is available from Amazon and amazon.com.au. For a large book of fifty chapters, it sells for a very reasonable US$20. If you know people in the United States, I would be very grateful if you spread the word. However, read it for yourself first. I am now seventy-eight, but trust that God will be kind to me for another ten or so years before He takes me Home. I have a young Filipino family that I have helped, who will tend to all after I have completed my task.

ORDER BOOK: God’s Sure Thing here.

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Image courtesy of Adobe.