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The small boy of indeterminate age headed toward the delightful smells wafting from the Australian airmen’s mess on Christmas day 1918. He’d come from the Tommy’s camp where their smells of cabbage turned his stomach � he much preferred the scents of Aussie food. And so he became affectionately known as Young Digger to the Air Squadron he’d befriended and Tim and Ted Tovell, brothers from Queensland, became his idols.

He was too young to remember his age; his birthday or even be sure of his name � though he thought it was the French equivalent of Henri. So Henry he became � and a mascot to the men of the No. 4 Squadron Australian Flying Corps. It was from there that Tim and his brother Ted concocted a way to smuggle Young Digger out of France and home to Australia where Tim would rejoin his wife and family, and make Henry his own son.

The tale of Young Digger is wonderfully done by Aussie author Anthony Hill; the story of Henry’s life before he met up with the Aussies in France is sparse as he was just too young to remember very much. But the story of his life from that fortunate day of allowing his senses to draw him to the mess and partake in a delicious Christmas lunch with men who would become true friends is heartfelt and raw. I thoroughly enjoyed Young Digger and have no hesitation in recommending it highly.