Moonlight Plains

by Barbara Hannay

  There was no sign of a plane. But Kitty knew that a plane had crashed out there, somewhere on Moonlight Plains land . . . which meant . . .

  Oh, help. It meant the enemy was out there. A pilot, at least, and probably crew. Japanese airmen, who might be dead, or injured, or worse – alive.

  Enemy invaders, living and breathing or mildly injured, could, at this very moment, be creeping towards the homestead.

  Night was closing in.

  And Kitty was alone.

  At the thought of those menacing, evil shadows creeping towards her, she threw a hasty glance at her great-uncle’s shotgun hanging on the wall. Her stomach lurched at the thought of using it, but she might not have a choice.

  Then, with something of a shock, a new thought struck. Could they be our planes?

  Could an Australian pilot have crashed?

  It was such a comforting idea that she felt a burst of courage and she pictured herself rushing out into the rainy evening and rescuing brave Australian airmen.

  But her bravado vanished almost as quickly as it flared. It was much more likely that the airmen were Japs, and she’d heard shocking, terrifying stories about what they did, especially to women.

  Now, fear – real, scalding fear – exploded in her chest. A moan burst from her, and she gulped it down as she struggled with her conscience.

  The appalling thing was, she had no choice but to go out there. She would never forgive herself if good Aussie men died, or lay in the rain in agony, simply because she was a coward. If there was a tiny chance that the airmen were Australian, she really should go.

  Oh, help. She wasn’t brave enough, was she? Her instinct was to dive back under the table and stay there. But cowering in the house and letting the Japs find her was possibly even more dangerous. She would have a better chance of hiding in the bush.

  With that thought, Kitty felt a new sense of purpose, a realisation that this was her chance to show her mettle, to prove to herself and to her grandfather that she wasn’t the weak, spineless girl he believed her to be. After all, there was no hiding from this war, and when the time came, everyone had to be brave. Now it was her turn. She had to find out who she was dealing with, and if it was Japs she’d have to head for the bush and just keep going, even if it took days. That was what her great-uncle would do.

  She would take a lantern, but she wouldn’t light it yet. She didn’t want to give herself away.

  I’ll have to take the shotgun, too.

  Nervously, she lifted the weapon from the wall. Just the feel of the gun’s smooth timber stock and cold metal barrel brought back the fiasco of two weeks ago, when Uncle Jim had insisted on showing her how to shoot.

  ‘There’ll be times when you’re here on your own,’ he’d said. ‘And you might find a brown snake in the dairy, or a damned dingo sneaking after the chooks. You can’t just throw a stick at them, lass. You have to know how to shoot.’

  But Kitty had been a terrible shot and the horrible bruising recoil and deafening noise had terrified her. She’d been in tears afterwards.

  There was no time for tears now, though, as she took cartridges from a drawer in the kitchen dresser, then opened the breach and loaded the gun.

  That done, she pulled a heavy, brown potato sack from a hook near the door and slipped one corner over her head to make a rain hood. It was scratchy and damp and smelled musty, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and it would keep most of the rain off.

  Carrying the shotgun and unlit lantern, she opened the back door and went cautiously down the wooden steps, glad there was still enough light for her to see her way.

  At a guess, the plane was somewhere just beyond the home paddock. Diagonal streaks of rain slanted through the slim white trunks of gum trees, and their drooping leaves were silhouetted against a gun-metal sky. This paddock hadn’t been grazed for weeks and the sodden, knee-high grass dragged at her trousers as she followed a barbwire fence till she came to the gate leading to the next paddock.

  Heart thumping, she stopped, and with the shotgun under her arm, fumbled with the gate’s wire fastening. A shout sounded close by and her heart leapt so high she almost dropped the gun.

  Should she answer? Or should she hide?

  There was no time to waste and she tried to think calmly. Would a stalking enemy call out?

  Surely not. Gripping the shotgun more resolutely, she pushed the gate open. The hinges creaked alarmingly and her heart threatened to burst clear through her ribcage.

  Carefully, fearfully, she crept forward. It was almost dark now, but ahead loomed the unmistakable shape of a silver-grey plane at an awkward angle. It didn’t look too badly damaged, but its nose had ploughed into the earth and its tail was in the air.

  Kitty prayed. She prayed especially that it wasn’t a Jap plane. She’d seen photos of their fighter planes in the newspapers and she knew they had the red circle of the rising sun on their sides. This plane had a clear white star.

  Not Japanese.

  Thank you, God.

  Almost giddy with relief, Kitty hurried forward. ‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Is anyone there?’

  A dark figure emerged from the grove of trees behind the plane, and a deep voice answered in an accent Kitty recognised from countless movies.

  ‘Quick, over here. I need some help, buddy.’

  An American.

  Oh, my goodness.

  Now that she knew she was safe, Kitty quickly lit the lantern and lifted it high. The man was tall and dressed in a dark leather flying jacket. A flying helmet and goggles dangled from his left hand and he was loosening the knot of a white silk scarf at his neck.

  She had never actually met an American before and she could feel her mouth gaping.

  She caught the keen glance in his dark eyes and the silky gleam of his jet-black hair, not yet flattened by the drizzling rain. He didn’t merely sound like a hero in an American movie, he had the handsome looks of a film star too. He was, as her girlfriends would say, a real dish.

  But this was no time for girlish flutters. It wasn’t even a time for introductions.

  ‘I’m glad you’ve brought a lantern,’ he said in a brisk, no-nonsense voice. ‘I’ve been trying to find my buddy. He ditched close by here.’

  ‘I heard a crash.’

  ‘Yeah. He could be injured.’

  Without another word, the American dived back into the trees and Kitty plunged after him, doing her best to dodge saplings while she held the lantern high.

  ‘He’s over this way somewhere,’ the American said. ‘He didn’t make it to the open field, and I think his wing might have clipped a tree. We were losing daylight fast. Lift that light a little higher, will you?’

  This man was clearly used to giving orders and being instantly obeyed. Lifting the lantern as instructed, Kitty pushed the potato sack back from her face so she could see better.

  The airman stopped in his tracks, staring at her, his gaze taking in her trousers, her gun. His dark eyes widened with surprise and then dismay.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Kitty asked.

  ‘You’re a girl?’

  He seemed so stunned she almost giggled. ‘Yes, I’m afraid I am.’

  To his credit, he recovered quickly. ‘Forgive me, madam. I thought you were a boy. No offence.’

  ‘None taken.’

  He slanted an approving smile her way and as his gaze rested on her for a moment longer, she had the distinct impression that under other circumstances he might have said something charming, even flirtatious.

  Instead he said, ‘Where are your menfolk?’

  ‘I – er – they’re away.’

  Kitty wondered what her grandfather would think if he could see her now. After her reckless behaviour with Andy Mathieson she’d been banished from Townsville to be kept clear of American servicemen.

  Now, despite her grandfather’s efforts, the Americans had arrived on her doorstep. Seemed there was no avoiding them.

  The pilot held out his hand. ‘The
name’s Ed Langley. United States Army Air Force.’

  His hand was warm and strong as he gripped Kitty’s.

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Captain Langley.’

  ‘Please, call me Ed.’

  ‘All right. I’m Kitty Martin.’

  ‘I’m in your debt, Miss Martin.’

  It was her turn to smile. ‘Please . . . call me Kitty.’

  Momentary warmth glowed in his dark-brown eyes before he remembered his mission and hurried forward again.

  ‘Are we anywhere near Townsville?’ Ed shot the question over his shoulder.

  ‘Not really. You’re about eighty miles to the west.’

  He made a low sound that might have been a curse. Just then, in the darkness ahead of them, Kitty’s lantern caught another gleam of metal.

  The second plane was spreadeagled on its stomach in the middle of a small clearing. It had lost a wing and it looked defeated, like a slain silvery monster.

  The sight of it made her throat sore.

  ‘Keep the lantern back, well out of the way,’ Ed warned.’

  Kitty smelled the pungent odour of petrol, and she set the lantern down, but followed at a careful distance as Ed continued forward.

  In no time, he was wrestling with the metal door above the gaping hole where the wing had been.

  ‘Is there any way I can help?’

  ‘This goddamned cockpit hatch is stuck. Bobby should have ejected it,’ he grunted. ‘I’ll need something to lever it open.’

  ‘A piece of timber? Like a tree branch?’

  ‘That might do the trick.’ Ed shot an assessing glance at the surrounding gum trees. ‘An axe would be handy.’

  Kitty smiled. This was one problem she could solve. Now she was grateful for her great-uncle’s lesson about the power of shotguns at close range. She would put it to good use.

  Holding the barrel close to the base of a sapling’s trunk, just as her great-uncle had demonstrated, she closed her eyes and pulled the butt hard into her shoulder, then she fired a blast and the young tree fell instantly.

  ‘Nice work, Annie Oakley,’ Ed drawled close behind her, and without wasting a moment, he grabbed the sapling and hurried with it to the plane.

  By the time Kitty caught up with him, he was already prising it beneath the cockpit’s latch.

  ‘Keep back!’ he ordered her. ‘We were low on fuel, but there’s still a good chance this could go up with a bang.’

  Kitty stepped away smartly, watching Ed work. Perhaps she should have prayed again, but she was too fascinated. Too scared.

  Ed’s face pulled into a grimace as he used the broken sapling to lever the door free. It took several tries. One end of the sapling snapped, but Ed persevered and it eventually worked, thank heavens. As soon as he’d yanked the door aside, Ed leaned into the cockpit and swiftly grabbed the pilot beneath his armpits and hauled his limp body out.

  Kitty caught a glimpse of the other man’s flying goggles and his broad nose. Long arms. Loose, floppy legs.

  ‘Is – is he alive?’

  ‘Not sure,’ was the grim reply. ‘Would you mind grabbing his legs, so I can get him clear of this plane?’

  Ed had barely said this before a terrible whoomp exploded behind him and a red ball of fire leapt high, lighting up the darkness.

  He yelled and jumped clear, dragging the man with him. Somehow – later, she was never sure how – Kitty managed to grab the injured pilot’s ankles. She was surprised by the weight of him and she was decidedly shaky as they lugged him away from the burning wreckage to a safe piece of cleared ground.

  Behind them, the fire spread quickly through the plane, but Ed paid scant attention to the garish flames leaping high into the night sky. He was too concerned about his companion.

  By now a strange white glow from the fire lit up the night and Kitty watched as Ed knelt and gently removed his comrade’s goggles and leather flying helmet. Ed’s forehead was creased by a deep frown as he loosened the silk scarf at the airman’s throat and pressed long, supple fingers to the side of his neck.

  ‘Can you feel a pulse?’ She had to ask.

  ‘Just. I’m no medic, but I’m sure it’s too faint.’

  Kitty leaned closer, and to her horror, she saw dried blood staining the corner of the unconscious airman’s mouth.

  ‘Does that mean he has internal injuries?’ she asked, pointing.

  Ed let out a heavy sigh. ‘I think so. He needs a doctor. A hospital.’

  Her heart sank. They hadn’t a hope of getting him to hospital, but how on earth could they help him on their own, all the way out here?

  ‘We should at least get him out of this rain and up to the house,’ she suggested, but she didn’t add that there would be next to no help at the homestead, apart from a rudimentary first aid box.

  ‘How far is it to the house?’

  She made a rough guess. ‘A few hundred yards.’

  ‘Right.’ Ed stood. ‘Normally, I’d sling him over my shoulder, but if he has internal injuries it might do him more harm than good.’ He looked back at the burning plane, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘If Bobby lost a wing smashing through here, it can’t be too far away. You wait with him and I’ll see if I can find it. We can use it as a stretcher to carry him.’

  ‘All right.’

  Unexpectedly, Ed smiled at her. His smile was tinged with fatigue and worry, but gosh, she couldn’t help noticing how young and handsome he was.

  His gaze dropped to the man on the ground and his smile faded, his voice softened. ‘This is my good friend and comrade, Lieutenant Robert Kowalski. He likes to be called Bobby.’

  Kitty gulped. She was sure Bobby seemed too still.

  A moment later, Ed was gone, hurrying away into the night.

  Kitty knelt beside Bobby Kowalski. He had a nice face, with a broad, flattish nose, fair eyebrows and eyelashes and widely set cheekbones. His lips were very pale, too pale, and the bright streak of blood looked garish by comparison. He looked young, maybe not quite twenty.

  To her surprise, his eyes slowly opened.

  ‘Hello,’ Kitty said softly, kneeling closer.

  His pale-blue eyes accentuated his youth. He stared at her, then he turned and frowned at the burning plane, then back at her again. Fear crept into his eyes.

  ‘Don’t be frightened, Bobby. Ed’s here. You’re going to be okay.’

  Her reassurance was useless. As Bobby continued to stare at her, his eyes widened with terror.

  ‘Don’t be frightened,’ she said again, wishing there was something she could do.

  But he looked more terrified than ever. Terrified of her.

  Perhaps she looked weird with the potato sack over her head. Kitty quickly slipped it off and shook her hair free. The sacking was standard wet-weather gear out here, but in the dark it probably made her look more like the Grim Reaper. Poor man.

  Bobby’s relief was instant.

  She took his hand and offered him a smile. ‘I’m Kitty,’ she told him.

  He nodded and a slight movement of his lips might almost have been a greeting.

  ‘It’s so nice to see you awake,’ she said next.

  His Adam’s apple jerked. ‘Where’s Ed?’

  ‘Not far away.’ Kitty pointed to the blackness beyond the plane. ‘He’s fetching something to make a stretcher, so we can carry you up to the homestead.’

  ‘You don’t have to carry me. You can’t. You’re a girl.’ Bobby tried to sit up, but he’d barely lifted his shoulders before he moaned and grimaced horribly, then coughed.

  Alarmed, Kitty pushed him gently back. ‘Shh. Don’t move. Ed will be back any moment now.’

  Sure enough, Ed was already hurrying towards them, bringing what looked like a sheet of roofing iron across his shoulders.

  ‘This might work,’ he said, but he didn’t sound confident as he laid it on the ground. ‘It’s part of the tail section.’

  Bobby fainted while they were carefully lifting him onto the makeshift str
etcher.

  Kitty drew a deep breath. She knew it wasn’t going to be easy, keeping Bobby balanced on the metal stretcher as they made their way through the rain-drenched scrub. She wouldn’t be able to carry the gun or lantern, so she set them under a tree. She’d come back for them later.

  ‘Ready?’ called Ed.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We’ll lift on the count of three. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘One . . . two . . . three . . .’

  Carrying the stretcher was indeed as difficult as she feared, especially during the first part of their journey, where they had to weave their way through the scrub with night closing in and the rain still falling. When they reached the open paddock, they set Bobby down for a short breather before going on.

  The hardest part was lifting Bobby off the tail to carry him through the back doorway. When Ed took his shoulders, Bobby groaned again, horribly, but at last they were safely in the kitchen.

  8

  It was only when they got back to the house and Kitty lit another lantern that she saw how pale and exhausted Ed looked.

  She realised then that she had no idea how long the Americans had been flying, or what kind of ordeal they’d been through before they were forced to land at Moonlight Plains. Ed showed no concern for himself, though. His focus was entirely on Bobby as he knelt beside his friend, his face taut with worry.

  Kitty took off her sacking cape, glad to be rid of it, and hung it on the hook behind the back door.

  Turning, she caught Ed watching her, his dark eyes intent, and she wished she was wearing something a good deal more fetching than a rumpled cotton smock, tucked into a pair of damp and mud-streaked men’s trousers cinched at her waist with a piece of rope.

  Almost immediately, she was ashamed of herself for even caring how she looked in these circumstances.

  She stepped forward as Ed unzipped Bobby’s jacket.

  ‘No obvious signs of injury,’ he said, frowning, then he shook his head. ‘But he’s out to it again and that can’t be good.’