The Pacific

by Peter Watt

  ‘I would be delighted, Ed,’ Ilsa called from the bathroom. ‘I have a damned good reason to celebrate Christmas this year.’

  ‘You sound happy,’ Ed said. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve finally received letters from Clark,’ Ilsa said, popping her head around the bathroom door. ‘He’s back flying and has been promoted to captain.’

  ‘You know, old Clark has always been a lucky son of a gun,’ Ed said with a warm smile. ‘He got you when I, the better man, missed out, and now he gets to come back from the dead. I suppose he will even be posted Stateside so that you two can get married, and me, I’ll have to settle for the best man’s job.’

  Ilsa liked Ed and under different circumstances he might have had a chance. ‘He’s not being posted Stateside so it’s up to me to go to him. Which is where you come in,’ she grinned. ‘I’m going to beg you to find a flight over to New Guinea so I can continue reporting the war.’ She gave him a coy little smile and pretended to bat her eyelashes at him.

  Ed laughed. ‘You’ve got me wrapped around your little finger. Give me a week and I’ll get you a seat on one of our bombers, but you’ll have to have clearance from the command to be on the flight.’

  ‘I can manage that,’ Ilsa replied with a warm smile. ‘And now, let’s get to your club and celebrate another year of being alive.’

  FIVE

  The day Jack Kelly was discharged he headed straight to his favourite hotel for a cold beer. The bar was crowded with soldiers, sailors and airmen. All so young, Jack thought sadly. A handful of Australian soldiers were raucously singing along to Bing Crosby. ‘I’m dreaming of a white mistress, just like the one I had before . . .’ Jack could not see a single familiar face amongst the rowdy patrons, and why should he, he thought – most of his mates were either buried somewhere out in the jungle or serving on the other side of the world.

  He bribed the publican to sell him a few more bottles of beer than the ration allowed and decided that it was time to go home to the family plantation to spend Christmas with his Papuan workers.

  He borrowed an old T-model Ford from one of the few planters he knew who still hung around the town, and drove the rutted, ill-kept coastal track out of Moresby until he reached the copra plantation at sunset.

  As he stepped out of the car he could see that the place had fallen into disrepair but he was soon distracted by a group of happy workers and their families welcoming him back. He knew the property could easily be cleaned up once the war was over and production began again, but he still felt regret and sadness that his once beautiful home was now so dilapidated. Blame it on the war, like everything else.

  Jack took bottles of beer up to the house and sat down on the verandah to gaze out at the now tranquil sea. So many wonderful evenings had been spent on this same verandah with his old friend Paul Mann, and it had been a place to talk with Victoria when the day was done. Now chickens pecked away at the timber flooring of the verandah and pigs rooted amongst the shrubs of what had once been a neatly kept garden.

  Jack took one of the bottles and knocked off the top. The beer was warm but he didn’t care; he just wanted to get drunk and forget all the things he had lost in his life.

  The Papuan supervisor, a man in his forties, brought Jack a meal of rice and fish at some point in the evening but Jack did not eat it. Instead, he kept drinking until the bottle slipped from his fingers and he fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

  When morning came, he awoke with a throbbing head and a dry, coppery taste in his mouth. The sun shone in his eyes and he considered going for a swim down at the beach, to clear his head. It was Christmas Day, he realised with a pang.

  Just then the sound of an engine disturbed his thoughts.

  ‘Car come long road, masta,’ the supervisor yelled from the garden.

  Jack rose to his feet to see a Dodge WC driving into the yard. It bore the insignia of the RAAF and Jack wondered who on earth would be visiting from the air force on Christmas Day.

  The car stopped and both driver and passenger doors opened at the same time. Jack’s hangover was instantly forgotten when he saw his son Lukas alight from the driver’s side, a broad grin on his handsome, rugged face. Megan appeared on the other side of the vehicle, wearing her air force nurses’ uniform. Her grin was almost as big as Lukas’s.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Dad,’ Lukas yelled, holding up a small wicker basket. ‘Thought you might like some company.’

  Jack fought back the tears as his son walked towards him. In moments, Lukas was on the verandah, hugging his father in an embrace guaranteed to crush a lesser man. Behind him Megan beamed.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Jack,’ she said. ‘I found this pirate son of yours wandering around the streets of Moresby. My boss kindly lent me the staff car to bring him home to you.’

  Jack extended his embrace to enfold Megan and held them both tightly. When they finally broke away, Jack found two more old cane chairs to sit on.

  ‘How did you know I’d be here?’ he asked.

  ‘Where else would you be today?’ Lukas shrugged, digging through the wicker basket. ‘My first stop when we got back to Moresby was the hospital to find Megan, and she told me you’d been wounded and brought in for treatment. You’re looking better than I expected. How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Jack replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘Even better now you’re home safely.’

  Lukas brandished a couple of cans of American spam. ‘As you can see, Dad, we have a ham for Christmas lunch, followed by fresh fruit salad.’ Lukas produced a can of mixed fruit. ‘All this washed down by what is left of your stock of fine beers. But first, the traditional morning swim to commence the day.’

  After a swim the three sat on the verandah, eating the meal and sipping on the warm beer. There was so much news to exchange that the day passed in a flash. Late in the afternoon Megan excused herself to go inside and change back into her uniform.

  ‘I have to be back before 1800 hours,’ she said. ‘I’m on duty tonight but Lukas can stay. I can see that you have your own transport.’

  Both men escorted her to the Dodge and watched her drive away. Jack had the funny feeling that something had changed between Lukas and Megan, although Lukas had not mentioned anything. Jack knew Megan had miscarried when Lukas had been away fighting as an infantryman along the Kokoda Track. It seemed to Jack as though Megan were struggling to mask her complex feelings of loss, whereas his son only wanted to close that tragic part of their lives and move on. Megan needed Lukas’s support, his love and his strength but instead he had closed himself off from her, leaving her isolated in her sadness. Jack tried to dismiss his concerns; it was Christmas Day, after all, and he’d just received the best present any parent could have – his only son returned to him safe and well.

  That evening he and Lukas walked around the grounds, greeting the families of the workers and discussing how the plantation could be brought back into operation when the war was over. Jack was pleased to see how eager his son was to take over managing the property.

  ‘Have you seen Karl?’ Lukas asked when they returned to the house.

  ‘Not since ’43,’ Jack replied. ‘I heard that he was serving with a commando company, and God knows where they might be at any given time.’

  ‘I ran into the bugger last year when we were supplying our blokes up around the north of Milne Bay,’ Lukas said. ‘He was a captain then and we had a brief moment to swap stories. He looked older. I suppose we all do.’

  Jack glanced at his son in the half-dark of the verandah. He did look older, thanks to the war; his skin was still golden but his eyes – the good one, anyway – looked weary, as though he’d seen too much in his young lifetime.

  Father and son sat talking long into the night. Jack had scrounged a kerosene lantern, which provided them with light, and they burned insect repellent to keep away the mosquitoes. The Papuan supervisor brought them slabs of barbecued pork pieces on banana leaves, along with cook
ed plantain and rice. The alcohol caused the two men to drift back to memories of life before the war. Lukas had only the vaguest memories of his mother, as she had died from the terrible influenza outbreak when he was a very young boy and while his father was still returning from the Western Front. Lukas was left in the care of his gruff father and, as the years had passed, the two became inseparable. Lukas found a mother’s love in Karin Mann who raised him alongside her own son Karl in the absence of any female in Jack’s life when Lukas was young. As the wife of Jack’s best friend, Paul, Karin accepted her ‘adopted son’ as if he were her own.

  Then Victoria had come into their lives. Beautiful and charming, Lukas had found a woman who also understood a young man’s need of a woman’s calming influence in his life. Both men adored Victoria, and when, early in the war, a Japanese submarine sank their company island trader off the Papuan coast, killing Victoria, a vacuum was left in their lives that could not be filled. At least now Lukas had found Megan, and Jack dreamed of the days ahead when she and Lukas would tie the knot and make him a grandfather.

  The two men continued talking into the early hours of the morning, not wishing to break the precious connection between them.

  Later they bid their plantation workers goodbye and drove into Port Moresby, where Lukas was to return to the Riverside and Jack to report to PIB HQ for the posting back to his unit. Before they parted ways they hugged each other fiercely, refusing to acknowledge what lay between them – that this might be the last time they saw each other alive.

  *

  Jack did not have to wait long in the orderly room before he was called into the office of Bill Travers, a PIB major he’d known before the war. They were the same age, but the major had long since lost his hair, and his bald head reflected the afternoon sunshine pouring through the open window.

  ‘Hello, Jack,’ he said, gesturing to his sergeant to take a seat. There was little formality between the two old friends. ‘I got your report recommending Corporal Gari for a gong and I have sent it upstairs with my concurrence.’

  ‘Thanks, Bill,’ Jack said, making himself comfortable.

  ‘I’ve already made enquiries into your medical status,’ Travers said, flipping open a manila folder. ‘You must have used that Irish charm on someone to get a clearance.’

  ‘No, fit as a fiddle,’ Jack replied with a straight face, knowing that Megan had had to convince the air force doctor to sign off on his fitness. ‘So, do I get posted back north with the battalion?’

  Bill Travers gave him a pained look. ‘You ever thought that you might be better off going back to your plantation and getting that up and going again?’

  ‘Yeah, Bill, when the war is over,’ Jack drawled. ‘Lukas is going to help me.’

  ‘I suppose you know that he saved a Yank sub on his last mission?’ Travers asked.

  That was news to Jack. Bloody typical, he thought. Lukas hadn’t told him because he did not want to alarm him.

  Travers stood and walked to the window. ‘Jack, you’re not being sent back north – despite your medical clearance. It has been recommended that you remain in Moresby on my staff. We need men with your experience to guide things from here.’

  ‘Don’t I have any bloody say in the matter?’ Jack said, anger creeping into his voice. ‘Bill, you know what it’s like to be a part of the battalion. They can’t do this to me.’

  ‘Sorry, cobber, nothing I can do – the posting has already been confirmed by the colonel. You’re to report to this office from now on. You’ve been assigned a room at the sergeants’ mess and, frankly, you’re lucky to have that, considering the brass felt you were getting a bit old for active service. Look at it this way,’ Travers continued more gently. ‘You’ll be at the hub of everything that’s happening, and you’ll be in a position to see what young Lukas is up to whenever he returns to Moresby.’

  Jack stared blankly at the major’s desk, guessing that his old friend would have fought for him to be allowed to return to the battalion.

  He rose, replaced his slouch hat and saluted his friend. ‘Thanks for at least keeping me in, Bill,’ he said, extending his hand. Bill Travers took it firmly and Jack could feel the strength of friendship in the clasp.

  ‘I believe Lukas is courting the prettiest nurse in Moresby,’ Bill said.

  ‘No, the prettiest young lady in the Pacific,’ Jack corrected with a cheeky smile. ‘After the war I hope my son makes her a Papua New Guinean.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure she’ll be pleased to know that her possible future father-in-law is out of the jungle and in a position to look out for her possible future husband,’ the Major said. ‘Go and get your kit sorted and report back after lunch. I have a lot of aerial photos of Jap dispositions up north that I want you to go through.’

  Jack nodded and left the office. He was bitterly disappointed at not returning to active service but this unhappiness was offset by the fact Major Travers coordinated Lukas’s small ship’s operations. Jack knew that he would be able to use his position at HQ to ensure that his son was kept away from the most dangerous waters around the island – whether Lukas liked it or not.

  *

  Major Karl Mann bumped into an old school friend, Charles Kensington, on Boxing Day and was invited to a New Year’s Eve party at his house in Rose Bay. Charles was employed by the Commonwealth Government in a protected occupation of senior rank and, as such, worked closely with elected politicians.

  On the evening of the party Karl found himself standing on Charles’s porch with a cold beer in his hand, overlooking the harbour and reflecting again on how Sydney seemed almost oblivious to the war to the north of them. He was the only person in uniform and he was reluctant to enter into conversation about the war with men who had little idea of what it was like to lie out in the jungle waiting to kill or be killed, to live in the heat, mud and drenching tropical downpours, racked by illness, hunger and exhaustion. There were a few of his old schoolmates amongst the party, but he no longer seemed to have anything in common with them. Conversations, once started, petered out uncomfortably.

  ‘I feel sorry for you,’ a female voice said behind him.

  Karl turned to find a beautiful young woman in her early twenties looking at him. She was wearing an expensive evening dress; her raven hair was cropped fashionably short and her eyes were a deep green. ‘You must find it hard to fit in with Charles’s friends and colleagues after you’ve have been in the thick of the fighting up north.’

  ‘I’m just pleased to be in company this evening,’ Karl said. ‘Being here reminds me of why we are fighting.’

  ‘You sound as though you’re being facetious,’ she said, moving closer to Karl. ‘My name is Sarah, by the way, and I am Charles’s sister.’

  ‘Ah yes, I remember now. You’re better looking than Charles,’ Karl said with a broad grin, holding out his hand. She shook it and he could feel the soft, warm flesh of her fingers. ‘I am Karl.’

  ‘I know,’ Sarah said. ‘My brother has told me a few stories about you and your friend from New Guinea. He told me you were a couple of wild savages straight out of the jungle.’

  ‘You must be referring to Lukas Kelly,’ Karl said. ‘I myself was brought up in a civilised manner by respectable parents.’

  Sarah gave him a dubious look. ‘Where is your friend now?’ she asked.

  ‘I last heard that he was skippering one of our supply boats out of Port Moresby,’ Karl answered.

  ‘I am sorry for what happened between you and Marie,’ Sarah said suddenly.

  ‘You know Marie?’ he asked in surprise.

  ‘Yes, I’ve known her since she set up her perfume business here in Sydney. I am afraid she came out with us one evening and my brother introduced her to his friend, James, and, well, things just happened from there. I had no idea she was spoken for.’

  Karl took a long swallow of his beer, emptying the glass. ‘These things happen in war,’ he said, trying not to sound bitter. ‘James wouldn’t happen to b
e James Stanley, by any chance?’

  Sarah looked up at him. ‘Yes, that’s him.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ Karl said softly. ‘He always was a slimy bastard, even at school.’

  ‘I hope you don’t intend him any harm,’ Sarah said. ‘He and Marie are married now, they have a baby boy. And James is an important member of the government.’

  ‘If Marie is happy with him, then I am pleased for her,’ Karl lied. ‘I have other matters to worry about right now.’

  ‘Are you being posted back to active service?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘I leave tomorrow,’ Karl replied.

  It had been a long time since he had been in the company of a woman – let alone a very beautiful and intriguing young woman – and he decided he wanted to spend his last hours in this harbour city enjoying the company of this vibrant and charming woman, without talk of the war clouding their short time together.

  ‘Can I get you a drink?’ he asked, glancing down at his own empty glass.

  ‘No, but I would like to get you one,’ she said with a gentle smile. ‘I’m sure you don’t wish to return to a room full of stuffy public servants.’

  ‘That would be nice,’ Karl replied, passing her his glass.

  Sarah slipped inside, leaving Karl to contemplate his feelings for Marie. The pain had not left him yet but he was a pragmatic person who had long learned to live for the moment rather than dwell on the past.

  Sarah returned, passed Karl a full glass of beer and proceeded to light up a cigarette. She offered him one.

  ‘I don’t smoke,’ he said.

  ‘And I don’t drink,’ Sarah retorted with a wistful smile. ‘So, what do we have in common then?’

  ‘The solitude of this verandah,’ Karl responded. ‘And the peace of this night.’

  Sarah tilted her head and gazed at him. ‘I can see behind those eyes of yours, Major Mann, that you have experienced a lot of pain in this war.’

  Karl was taken aback by her observation; he prided himself on hiding his feelings. ‘No more than the average digger,’ he shrugged.