#tom jeffrey

First of all, it is not enough merely to thank the two pilots with whom I flew when I was on a crew. Were it not for John Brady and Ev Blakely I would not be here, and there would be no story.

Secondly, I must thank the men and women of the 100th—not only the flyers, but those who kept us flying. They all made this narrative the grand story to which I hope I have done adequate service.

I must thank, especially, the three great leaders of the 100th, Jack Kidd, John Bennett, and Tom Jeffrey, who did so much to make us proud to be members of the group whom history now knows as "The Bloody 100th."

“We deliberated on what we would name our child. We got it down to three names, two for a boy and one for a girl. Stephen Patrick or Jeffrey Allen. I leaned toward naming a boy after Colonel Jeff. For a girl we came up with Evalyn, in honor of her two grandmothers, Eva Crosby and Evelyn Boehner.”

That was as it should be. For the entire war so far, Jack Kidd had been carrying the 100th. He was the best air leader, and he flew all the tough missions when the 100th was out in front of task force. Until Bennett came, he was the Air Exec and Group Ops. To the degree that Harding and Kelly let him, he was the Group Commander. He was the Group.

At twenty-three when he looked eighteen, he was one of the handsomest men I had ever seen.

Now, after months of war, he looked fifteen years older. He was gaunt. His regulation hat, not the hundred-mission crush type, was too big for him. His uniform hung on him. Al Dahn, the Group Dental Officer, told me that Jack's gums were withdrawing from his teeth. He was exhausted.

Since he flew only when we were task force lead, he had not completed a tour. When Tom Jeffrey came on the base, he knew how great Kidd had been, but he knew that a man can only take so much.

"Jack, you have had enough. You are going home."

The very next day, famed 100th pilot “Rosie” Rosenthal was shot down. The near-simultaneous loss of an excellent Group Commander whom he trusted and the loss of a very dear friend had to be hard on Crosby. Time and time again he’s having to prove himself to those ranking above and below him, in addition to building new friendships, only for them to be ripped away.

Shortly thereafter, Col. Jeffrey called Crosby to offer him the position of co-USSTAF Navigator. If he accepted he’d be stationed in Paris with Col. Jeffrey.

"I'm in Paris, and, Croz, this is the life. You better come on over."

"Sounds great. When and how?"

While in Paris he got a taste of the life he would have should he accept this new role. He also learned that he would be promoted to Colonel, and become the navigation advisor for the whole of air warfare in Europe and Africa. He wouldn’t have to fly or plan any more missions, in fact, to Crosby’s surprise, he wouldn’t have to do much.

"Captain Thatcher is the one who does the job. All you would have to do here is wear your medals. When big shots from Washington come here you would talk to them about the Bloody Hundredth and your missions, and keep them off General Spaatz' back."

Maybe Col. Jeffrey heard about what happened to Rosie, knew just how close the two had been and knew how much losing Rosie would hurt Crosby. He also had seen how hard Crosby worked himself and knew that if anyone deserved a permanent break it was him.

"Welcome to Patrol Two Two. Specialists in arson, murder, and drinking."

                        - Rogers (Bryan Brown)

  Australia doesn't make many war movies - hell, Australia doesn't make many movies - but the ones we do make tend to leave a mark. Gallipoli and Breaker Morant are remembered as two of the best war films ever made, and even Kokoda, which took a fascinating piece of Australian martial history and reduced it to a fairly generic "lost patrol" scenario, made quite a splash upon its release. We don't talk about Vietnam much, though; apart from television miniseries such as Sword of Honour and Vietnam, it's remained largely untouched as a film subject. There are films that use the war as character background or as a peripheral concern, but to this date the only noteworthy Australian feature that deals directly with the war is The Odd Angry Shot.

            The film deals with the experiences of Australian SAS troopers in the late '60s. It's not an action movie by any stretch of the imagination; the title itself refers to the infrequency of guerrilla warfare. Sam Mendes' Jarhead made a big hullaballoo about the tedium of modern warfare a few years ago, but The Odd Angry Shot makes the same point just as effectively, and without ramming it down the viewer's throat. Much of the film is spent watching the characters kill time on base by drinking, gambling, brawling, and swapping stories. The scenes of actual combat are rare, jolting, and presented without undue histrionics. Tonally, the film has something in common with M.A.S.H., in that its chief concerns are texture and character rather than plot.

            Tom  Jeffrey, who only directed two other features, is not a man whose name will last in the annals of film history, but he acquits himself well here, using a relaxed documentary style to capture the goings-on. He keeps the stylistic flourishes to a minimum, but when he does deploy them, it's to excellent effect; the smash cut from a shot of a laughing Rogers (Bryan Brown) to a shot of the same character lying in the dirt with his face covered in blood is particularly effective.

            Speaking of Brown, he's certainly not the only familiar face to be found. It's arguable whether it's a strength or a weakness, but one of the traits of Australian cinema, particularly in the late '70s and early '80s, is that the same actors keep cropping up over and over again. The industry was - and is - too small, so the same talent spool gets dredged repeatedly. The Odd Angry Shot is a perfect example of this sort of thing; the film is packed with recognizable performers. John Jarratt is Bill, our nominal point of view character, and the rest of the core group is filled out by Brown, Graeme Blundell and Graham Kennedy, who received top billing. That's an impressive enough ensemble right there, without even looking at the rest of the cast, which includes the likes of Ian Gilmour, Ray "Alf Stewart" Meagher, Frankie J. Holden and Max Cullen. Really, the only glaring omission is Bruce Spence.

            Top acting honours go to Australian icon Kennedy as the philosophical former painter who is the only character cultured enough to comment on the political and social ramifactions of the Australians' presence in Vietnam. Kennedy is renowned as a light entertainer, but he brings a lot of subtlety and pathos to the role; his speech about his ex wife is a standout.