"I've got to go to Vietnam! The War Service loan will give us The House we have always wanted for the kids."

Larry, my husband, implored me to understand. It was the only way to fulfil our dream of buying 'The House' and passing it on to our children. Even though we only had one child at this time, we had plans of extending our family, especially to include a little girl that Larry so badly wanted.

'The House' became a significant dream. As a young couple, I was only 17, and Larry was 22 when we married, and this was the dream we shared all our married life, as we both came from low-income families. A dream that we pulled out and mulled over often, "Once the children leave home, we will be able to let our the rooms to help pay for the mortgage. "was one idea we shared.

Larry's parents could not afford to buy a house as every penny that came into the dilapidated rented house was precious to their family, with a disabled father and a mother who did house cleaning as well as caring for her family. A house was always out of their reach!

When I first saw Hilton, my father-in-law, he was sitting on the verandah in his squatter's chair. Despite his large German frame, he was a big man with no excess layers. "We have been looking forward to meeting you," Hilton's brown eyes twinkled as he greeted me for the first time.

My heart stopped pounding. Hilton seemed to like me and was friendly.

"Sorry, I can't get up to greet you properly, Melody. These old legs of mine don't work that well."

A sugar cane train's shunting accident had slowly eroded Hilton's ability to walk without assistance. His brother, Gus, had been driving the small train, and Hilton was the rear guard. Gus was mucking around, stopping and starting the train as Hilton tried to get back onto the rear carriage when he fell back on the rail tracks, damaging his spine. Over the years, the damage to his spine continued to deteriorate until he spent his days sitting in his squatter's chair, unable to move without support. Meanwhile, Alice, his wife, continued to do house cleaning and ironing to bring in extra money.

Being told for the second time Larry would never pass the final medical for Vietnam, we decided to extend our family. The day I found out I was pregnant was the very day Larry was told he would be going to Vietnam. After all, Larry finally got to fight in Vietnam and qualify for the war service loan we wanted so badly.

 On the 15th of April 1970, while standing at the makeshift bar in Nui Dat, a soldier handed Larry two telegrams, "It seems at long last the baby has decided to arrive at long last. Any bets it's a girl?" Larry joked as he opened the first telegram. "No, it's another boy. Oh well, it will be fun trying again for my daughter."

Picking up the other telegram and tearing it open, Larry's eyes started watering. He dropped onto the bar stool with shoulders dropping, head downcast and shaking. Mumbling to his mates, he groaned, "My father has died!"

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Looking back on this period, I realise it was the beginning of my adult life. My fairy tale was with Prince Charming riding up on his white charger or red Cortina, rescuing me from a childhood where I felt lonely and unloved. My prince, who would love me unconditionally, protect me from loneliness and never hurt me, was only in my dreams or the storybooks I read.

The knight's armour had started to rust the night before he left. We had a big fight, and he hit me. The rust continued to erode when he came home for his 7 days of Rest and Recuperation leave, choosing to spend time at the pub every day instead of spending it with us. My knight's armour was slowly falling off, corroded, damaged, and maybe beyond repair.

A complete family unit was the most important thing I could give my children. Every child deserves a mother and father in their lives. I would do anything to ensure my children had what I didn't.

My knight in shining armour who left for Vietnam wasn't the Larry who came home.

Agent Orange and P.T.S.D. had claimed another victim. I hadn't worried much about Larry when he was in Vietnam as he was with the medical unit, so I thought he would be safe.

How naïve was I?

Years later, to my shame, I discovered he still had to go out on patrols and often went up in the helicopters to bring back the wounded. No wonder he turned to alcohol.

I often wonder if there had been counselling for the men and their families back then, instead of being left to cope the best way we could, would our marriage have survived and our dysfunctional family mended or at least healed?

When the Whitlam government abolished university fees in 1974 and made university accessible to low-income people by removing the costs and introducing adult entry. I applied for admission and gained entry. I did it. Even though I had only completed three subjects of Year 10 by correspondence, I was accepted into the Townsville Teachers College as a mature-age student.

 Larry was proud of our family, helping out at their football club, helping to raise money and extending the clubhouse. The boys played club and representative football, meaning we often had to travel for their games. Unfortunately, alcohol always had a seat in the car.

Our dream home was finally purchased when Larry left the army after 20 years of service. In Larry's name, he hoped we could give our marriage another go.

Larry was so proud of his house, always working every morning in the garden, making or tending to gardens for me, and cleaning the pool area. Everything had to be just so for the kids to bring their friends home to enjoy their home.

But the drink had him firmly in its grip. Come 10 o'clock, when the pubs opened, and Larry would go off to the pub or the club for a few hours and always bring home a supply to keep in the fridge.

Our marriage only lasted another two years as Larry's drinking became heavier, his moods erratic, and his infidelity was too much for me to contend with any longer. Years later, I was to discover these were all behaviours of P.T.S.D.

Oh, where was all the help the government gives now?

One day, arriving home after shopping with our daughter, I saw Larry lying on the verandah with a gun pointing at us. I drove the car under the house out of his view.

“Stay in the car, Kristine, while I go up and see what your father is doing,“ Attempting to keep my voice light as if a joke was being played on us, I spoke softly as I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress to dry them.

Larry told me that some kids had thrown a dead kangaroo in the front yard and that he had taken it down to the river. I could see no evidence of this event; he hadn't even changed his clothes, but I didn't comment. The rifle disappeared, and I never saw it again.

Was he starting to become delusional from the alcohol? Years later, I was to find out he had several brain tumours.

After another delusional event where Larry accused Kristine of stealing sheets from him as she was changing her bed linen. Raising my voice, hoping he would see that he wasn’t making sense, the situation escalated. Warren, frustrated, punched a hole in the wall.   The police were called; I left and moved to Brisbane. We divorced two years later. However, we both still clung to the dream of leaving 'The House' to our children.

For settlement, I asked for enough money to finish paying off my car while leaving Larry in the house on condition it went to the children when he passed. I remarried.

Larry agreed to the children's thoughts on marrying his housekeeper as she would then get his pension and green card. She agreed that the house would not be contested and go to the children as Larry had always wanted. She didn't have much, and this was a way of thanking her for all her care. Larry ensured he would keep his part of our settlement and the house would be left to the children. Larry remained single until nine months before he died when he married his housekeeper of one year. By this time, he was sick with cancer, which had spread throughout his body.

Unknown to us, a lawyer came to the house, at his second wife's request, a few days before Larry died and changed his will, making her the sole beneficiary. Larry was full of morphine for his pain.

Before Larry was even buried in the ground, his second wife changed all the locks and stole his House, leaving our children with nothing. Not even their names on his headstone.

Larry got his House for a while, but what a cost – his marriage and his life.

The knight's armour may lay rusted, broken and corroded, never to be used again. However, the love I felt for my broken soldier the day I married him still beats strongly in my heart, along with the shame and the guilt of ignorance.