I remember the moment like it was yesterday: My girlfriend (soon to be my wife) and I were sitting in our tiny apartment glued to the television. It was evening, and CNN was covering the first United States invasion of Iraq. The war had officially begun. And in a change to the network landscape, the coverage would be around the clock.
None of it was a surprise as the build-up to the attack was widely publicized. I sat there numb. Iraq had invaded Kuwait, and now the U.S. was going to war with Iraq to liberate Kuwait. Watching the glowing missiles fly through the night sky into their targets was surreal. War, at least for me, had only been experienced through history books.
And now it was very, very real.
At the time, it all seemed necessary. In hindsight, the whole exercise appears questionable. Selfishly, while I was concerned for our troops, a part of me was freaking out. I was in my early 20s, healthy, and fully capable of fighting. That meant, if things went south, the possibility that I could be drafted was very real.
Going into battle was not high on my list of go-to activities, but I knew I would have to go if I was called. Something inside told me I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I turned my back on my country, whether or not I believed in the conflict.
Since then, I have heard countless stories of the hardships of the Iraq and Afghanistan veterans – some with life-altering physical and emotional scars – making those conflicts seem even more ridiculous. All of this got me wondering about the most ridiculous wars in history, which is how I stumbled upon the Great Emu War of 1932.
After World War I, many Australian soldiers were given farmland in Western Australia as part of a government settlement program. Unfortunately, the land was not ideal for farming, making the transition difficult for the soldiers. Things got worse when thousands of emus (large, flightless birds native to Australia) began migrating inland to search for food.
The emus saw the newly cultivated wheat fields as a perfect food source and started devouring crops. Farmers, already struggling due to the global depression, pleaded for help from the government. In response, Australian authorities decided to send in the military to deal with the birds.
In November 1932, Major G.P.W. Meredith of the Royal Australian Army’s 7th Heavy Artillery led a small military force armed with two Lewis machine guns and 10,000 rounds of ammunition. The plan was to mow down the emus in large numbers.
Things did not go as expected.
The emus proved to be incredibly difficult targets. They moved fast and in unpredictable directions, making it hard to shoot them. And they were surprisingly resilient – even direct hits often failed to bring them down. They also learned to adapt, scattering into small groups instead of gathering in large, easy-to-target flocks.
At one point, the soldiers mounted a machine gun on a truck, but the rough, rocky terrain made it impossible to aim properly. The emus outran the vehicle, rendering the strategy useless.
After several weeks of “battle,” the results were humiliating. The military expended 2,500 rounds of ammunition but only managed to kill a few hundred emus. The emus, numbering in the tens of thousands, suffered minimal losses and continued their destruction. Eventually, the government called off the operation, forcing the farmers to find alternative methods, such as bounties and fencing, to control the emu population. Fifty-seven thousand, thirty-four bounties were claimed over six months in 1934, proving that residents with rifles were savvier than the military.
In the end, the connections between the Great Emu War and many modern military conflicts are laughably close, which doesn’t say much for the folks in charge of militaries.
This week’s feature, “The Alto Knights,” isn’t necessarily laughable, but it pales in comparison to most mobster films, even with Robert De Niro manning the helm for both starring roles.
The story is as old as the mafia: two of New York’s most notorious crime bosses vie for control of the city’s streets in an era where mob rules determine who lives and who dies.
I’ll give De Niro credit for the dual-acting gig, which can’t be easy to pull off with two characters cut from the same cloth. Unfortunately, it was the tired screenwriting on a worn topic that brought this film down. I love mobster movies, but someone needs to find a new angle, or the public’s interest will fizzle.
A listless “C” for “The Alto Knights” is now playing in theaters everywhere.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at [email protected].
