It was 1943, I was two years old and my mother - an Aborigine - was married to a white Australian when he went and gave his life for our country.
My father was a soldier and was killed on the Kokoda Track and instead of giving his wife a war widow's pension, the bloody government came and took his children away. Because of my mother's Aboriginality. There were four children at that point in time and I was the third. We were split up, the four of us, we were split. [node:read-more:link]