by Peter Watt
Dieter knew that they would eventually lose the fight. The sheer numbers of the assaulting force alone dictated this. He saw movement and swung his rifle onto the target. The firing pin clicked on an empty chamber and he reached for the bandolier across his chest, finding a clip and slamming it in the open breech, sliding the bolt forward to chamber a round. The Australian soldier had disappeared and for a moment the jungle fell eerily silent.
Dieter glanced around and saw that he was truly alone now. His ears rang from the constant gunfire. When he took stock of his situation it appeared that he had lost his command to bullets and capture. He knew that he was faced with a couple of grim alternatives. He could go down fighting, or surrender to the advancing Australians. Had he not sworn to Major Pfieffer that he would acquit himself as a son of the Fatherland?
There was a third alternative, he thought grimly. He could simply slip away and head back into the hills where he might find others like himself, evading capture, and then move into a guerrilla war against the invading Australian forces.
When a man screamed in agony not far away Dieter recognised the terrible sound of a bayonet being withdrawn from a body. He had heard a similar sound when pigs were stuck. He lowered himself to the ground and cautiously moved aside some undergrowth to see an Australian soldier wiping the blood from his long bayonet on the trunk of a tree nearby. At his feet lay a Tolai policeman gasping out the last of his life, while gripping the terrible wound to his chest.
Dieter shrank back into the concealment of the undergrowth. Had the policeman surrendered, only to be murdered by the Australian soldier, or had he attempted to fight the man in hand-to-hand combat? Whatever the answer, Dieter was convinced to escape and continue armed resistance another day. He was not deserting – as his command no longer existed.
Very carefully, Dieter concealed himself while the advancing Australian soldiers and sailors passed by him on their way to capture the radio station. Gunfire broke out behind him where he deduced a handful of his fellow countrymen were still holding out. The rifle fire was answered by a fusillade of shots from the advancing Australians.
Suddenly, Dieter felt his side thumped as if he’d been stung by a giant hornet. He realised immediately that he had been hit by a stray bullet and lay gasping in the undergrowth. Dieter could feel the stinging pain along his ribs halfway down to his waist and gingerly probed the wound with his fingers. From what he could ascertain the bullet had grazed his side, smashing a rib. The pain came in agonising waves and he groaned softly, praying that his cries had not revealed his position to the enemy. He knew he was losing blood and applied a bandage from his kit, listening carefully and gritting his teeth as the Australians moved all around him, but fortunately intent on clearing the track to the radio station.
With the bandage applied securely, Dieter remained hidden until last light when he broke cover to escape into the hills. He at least knew the country better than the invading Australians and calculated that it would take him a good day and night to reach the mission station. From there he could make his plans to disappear in the jungle and continue waging war against the occupying Australian troops.
Unknown to those at the Catholic mission, the skirmishing against German resistance continued on the coast and, despite a clear intent by the few remaining German troops not to cede, a surrender ceremony was already being arranged in Rabaul by the commander of the invading force to mark the defeat of the Germans on Neu Pommern.
Father Umberto had organised to use his limited supply of malarial suppressant to save Alex who by now was out of the worst of the fever and sitting up to take soup administered by the nuns. He was thin and pale but still alive.
Matthew had sat by him day and night and the strain of worry had creased his face with worry lines.
‘How is the patient?’ Father Umberto asked, entering the lime-washed infirmary with a broad smile.
‘Good, Father,’ Alex answered with a weak smile. ‘Should be on my pins by this afternoon and out of your hair by tomorrow.’
‘Well, one of my boys returning from Rabaul has some astounding news that I think you two might like to know,’ the priest said, his smile widening. ‘It seems that your countrymen have landed and captured Rabaul, and that they have even conducted a surrender ceremony. You will be able to go home soon.’
Matthew leaped to his feet and grabbed the startled priest’s hand, shaking it vigorously.
‘Thanks, Father,’ he said. ‘The news could not have come at a better time.’
‘However,’ the priest continued, ‘I would caution against Captain Macintosh attempting any trek to the coast in his present condition. He should rest a few days and gather his strength before doing so. In the meantime I will be sending down a message to your people to tell them that you are up here safe and well.’
Matthew looked to his cousin propped up in the infirmary bed. ‘That is good news,’ he said. ‘If a party comes for us Alex can be littered down to Rabaul.’
‘Be damned if I am going to be carried out of here,’ Alex retorted fiercely. ‘I will walk out with you.’
Matthew sat down. He could understand his cousin’s pride. ‘Okay, we wait for them to arrive and walk out together.’
The Italian priest shrugged. At least now he did not have to fear reprisals from the German administration for harbouring the two Australians.
That evening the mission station had a visitor, but not one who was expected.
Matthew and Alex were stunned to see Hauptmann Dieter Hirsch helped into the infirmary by two of the native nuns and Sister Bridget and laid down on a cot next to Alex. With glassy eyes, he looked up. Matthew could see the dark shadow of a blood-soaked bandage strapped around his chest.
‘Where did you get it?’ Matthew asked Dieter.
‘In the side,’ Dieter replied hoarsely. The Irish nun was swabbing the wounded German officer’s brow when Father Umberto arrived.
‘Sorry to hear that,’ Matthew said without rancour. ‘We have heard that your cobbers have surrendered to our boys.’
‘I have not surrendered,’ Dieter replied, gritting his teeth against the pain when the priest stepped in to remove the bandage, exposing the ugly wound.
‘That’s a bit of a moot point,’ Matthew said. ‘Captain Macintosh over here is a commissioned officer and obliged to accept your surrender.’
‘There are no prisoners under the roof of my mission,’ Father Umberto said, tossing aside the bloody field bandage and reaching for a sterilised swab to clean the wound. ‘Your war is out there, not here. Italy is still a neutral country.’
‘But you are now on land occupied by my country,’ Matthew countered. ‘You will fall under our administration.’
‘When you and Captain Macintosh sought our help did not my people and I risk everything to protect you?’ the priest asked.
Matthew felt embarrassed by his nationalistic enthusiasm but before he could reply Alex’s voice cut across the tiny space of the infirmary. ‘Hauptmann Hirsch risked his career to aid us in our escape,’ he said. ‘We owe him our lives and must honour the risk he took. As far as I am concerned, we never saw him brought into the mission.’
‘That suits me fine,’ Matthew agreed. ‘But I never thought that you might see the matter from other than a military point of view.’
‘Thank you, my friends,’ Dieter said, gritting his teeth as Father Umberto bandaged the wound. ‘I am grateful for your consideration.’
‘How are you at chess?’ Matthew asked, causing Dieter to glance up at him with a questioning look.
‘I play well,’ he replied.
‘Good,’ Matthew answered. ‘Captain Macintosh is a lousy player and I need a bit of competition. Father Umberto has a chess set. You and I will have a few games while you are recuperating.’
‘That should be a short time,’ the Italian priest said, washing his hands in an enamel dish. ‘Hauptmann Hirsch has not suffered a life-threatening wound. The bullet has broken a rib and it will hea
l with some bed rest.’
That night the four men shared a bottle or two of the good French wine that Father Umberto had stashed away. For the night there was no war as they swapped stories of home.
Two days later, a patrol of Australian soldiers and sailors arrived under arms to make contact with their two countrymen rumoured to be holed up in the mission station.
When they arrived they were met by the sight of two very gaunt men with beards, wearing ragged clothes but exhibiting broad smiles of relief. They were not told of the German militia officer who’d been moved outside the mission station to an outlying hut where he was being cared for by an Irish nun.
29
It was a grand homecoming for Alex and Matthew in October. Guests filled Patrick’s house and no expense had been spared in catering for the formal dinner to toast the return of Captain Macintosh and Mr Duffy. Only George Macintosh did not appear happy as the invited friends and guests celebrated the miraculous survival of the two Australians. Alex wore his military dress uniform while Matthew found that his formal suit still fitted him, albeit hanging just a little loosely on his frame on account of the loss of weight he had incurred in the jungles of the Pacific island.
‘Good to have you back, m’boy,’ a red-nosed guest congratulated Alex, slapping him on the back. ‘Now you will have the opportunity to show those dirty Huns a thing or two.’
Alex smiled weakly and moved on. He found that he was only comfortable in the company of his cousin who had shared so much with him on their failed mission. Even his father was now a distant figure – caught up in military duties for his newly formed battalion. Since returning home to Sydney he had barely had the chance to speak with Patrick in private.
‘Alex,’ a voice said and he turned to see his future sister-in-law smiling at him. ‘Would you like to step outside for a little fresh air?’
‘Certainly,’ Alex answered, glad to have an excuse to leave the pack of well-wishers.
They made their way to the garden where they stood under a magnificent southern sky of twinkling stars.
‘How are you?’ Louise asked, and her question had a note of genuine concern.
‘I am fine,’ Alex answered, reaching for a silver case containing a row of small cigars. ‘I’m just glad to be back.’
‘You do know about Giselle and Mrs Schumann?’ Louise asked.
Alex removed a cigar and noticed that his hands were trembling. He had tried to block Giselle from his thoughts for some time. ‘I don’t know how I could, since I saw them last at their plantation.’
‘Giselle told me what happened when you were there,’ Louise said. ‘I am sorry that it all went so badly.’
‘When could she have told you that?’ Alex asked, attempting to light the cigar. ‘Did she stop by Sydney after she betrayed Matthew and myself?’
Even in the dim light of the garden Alex could see the expression of shock on Louise’s face. ‘She did not betray you,’ she retorted. ‘As one of her best friends, she confided in me that she is madly in love with you, and would have given her own life if it meant changing what happened.’ Louise repeated the story of how Giselle had been intercepted with the supplies intended for the sea voyage south to Port Moresby.
‘Is she back with her father and mother?’ Alex asked, attempting to appear casual about her fate.
‘No, she and Mrs Schumann are being held in an internment camp at Holsworthy and they have since been informed that Mr Schumann was killed in a native uprising at his plantation last month. I think that you should pay Giselle a visit as I suspect that she really needs to see you.’
‘I didn’t know,’ Alex said quietly. ‘The last couple of months have been a bit hectic and I have had little chance to follow up on anything since I returned home.’
‘As her friend I would ask you to visit Giselle,’ Louise beseeched. ‘Most of her other friends have disowned her because in their eyes she is German. I only know my friend as a person with ambitions to make this world a better place.’
‘I will see her,’ Alex ceded. He was surprised at the depth of Louise’s friendship for the woman whom, he had to admit to himself, he had never stopped loving. ‘I will arrange to go to Holsworthy as soon as possible.’
‘Good,’ Louise said, satisfied that she had done something important for the sake of friendship. ‘I think that we should be returning to your party before George starts thinking that you and I are having an affair.’
‘You are really marrying my brother?’ Alex asked as they walked back to the house.
‘Your question has a disbelieving note to it,’ Louise replied. ‘Why would I not marry George?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ Alex answered, avoiding expressing his dislike for his brother.
Inside the house they were assailed by the pungent smell of tobacco smoke and the heavy perfumes of the ladies. ‘I believe that you have not yet availed yourself of a flight in my cousin’s aeroplane,’ Alex said, causing Louise to glance sideways at him with a curious look.
‘I have no doubt that Mr Matthew Duffy has a very strong charm and dashing appearance when it comes to the ladies,’ she said with a smile. ‘But he is a man destined to forever roam places where a lady cannot go. I will admit that when I first met your cousin I was almost swept off my feet, but when you and he just simply disappeared without telling anyone I was brought firmly back to earth.’
‘So you admit that Matthew held some interest to you?’ Alex asked with a smile. ‘I would hate to think that he might be more attractive than my brother.’
‘If you are attempting to play cupid, Alex, forget it,’ she said, accepting a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. ‘I am happily betrothed and the banns have been posted for what George has promised to be the social event of the year. I also know that it will be my duty to ensure that the Macintosh dynasty is continued with the presentation of a son to the family line.’
Maybe the reproduction of another George Macintosh, Alex mused. Not a pleasant thought. ‘Well, I shall raise a glass to toast your happiness,’ he said but without conviction, for Alex not only strongly disliked his brother but now had a gut feeling that he had some connection to their betrayal in the past months on the mission. Although he did not have proof, knowing his brother as he did, Alex could only think that he was responsible for the leak of information to the Germans.
Patrick saw his son chatting with his future daughter-in-law and excused himself from the company of a couple of Sydney’s more prominent entrepreneurs who were already discussing what a bonanza the war meant to their future profits.
‘Father,’ Alex said when Patrick joined them, ‘I was just telling Louise what a wonderful addition she will be to the family.’
‘She will,’ Patrick said. ‘Louise, if you will excuse us for just a moment.’
‘Certainly, Colonel,’ Louise replied, sweeping away to join her father and mother who had been cornered by a fat banker and his equally fat wife.
‘What requires the privacy?’ Alex asked, sipping from his champagne.
‘I have not had the opportunity to tell you that there is a vacancy for a company commander in my battalion,’ Patrick answered. ‘I have kept it open while you were away. That is, if you don’t mind continuing your career under your father’s command.’
‘If it means my own company, I would serve the devil,’ Alex replied. ‘No, I have no objection to serving under you, Father. Thank you for your faith in me, considering I let you down on the mission.’
‘You did not let me down,’ Patrick hurried to counter. ‘What went wrong was because of circumstances beyond our control. As it is, the assault on Rabaul went very well and now the Imperial German Navy has had all its communications in the Pacific cut, foiling any plans to carry out raids on our Eastern seaboard.’
‘We were betrayed, weren’t we?’ Alex asked quietly, casting a look at his brother engaged in animated conversation with a group of businessmen.
‘We were,’ Patrick answered. ‘But it is
nothing that I can prove.’
‘You really mean that you suspect George somehow betrayed the mission to the Germans,’ Alex continued. ‘My own despicable brother, a traitor to his country.’
‘You cannot say that,’ Patrick said. ‘He is of your flesh and blood, and no matter what happens, you have to remember that.’
Alex shook his head in disgust. ‘The worst part of it all is that my brother is marrying a truly wonderful lady. I only wish that Matthew had been given the chance to take her up in his aeroplane then things might have worked out differently.’
‘You are to report to BHQ tomorrow no later than midday, Captain Macintosh,’ Patrick said, diverting the conversation away from George and his future with Louise Gyles. ‘The adjutant will fill you in on your new command.’
‘I am requesting leave for another forty-eight hours,’ Alex countered. ‘I have a vital task to do.’
‘Given your past experiences, I think that I can grant that,’ Patrick replied. ‘Just be on parade no later than 0600 hours next Monday.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Alex answered, reverting to his role not as a son but as a new company commander, obeying his CO’s directions.
‘But what is more important than taking command of your company as soon as possible?’ Patrick asked out of curiosity.
‘Love, Father,’ Alex answered with the trace of a smile. ‘Just love.’
Patrick immediately knew what his son meant and felt a shiver of apprehension. ‘You know Giselle is interned as an enemy alien?’
‘I didn’t know until Louise told me a short while ago and that is a matter of politics,’ Alex waved off. ‘I plan to visit her and her mother at Holsworthy first thing tomorrow.’
‘You do realise that if it is known you are consorting with an enemy alien it might reflect badly on your military career,’ Patrick cautioned.
‘What would you do, Father?’ Alex countered. ‘If you were in my shoes?’
Patrick extended his hand to his son. ‘You go and see your young lady,’ he said gently. ‘Heaven knows that there is enough suffering and misery ahead of us in this war. I have long learned that life can be a fleeting thing, and if you can have just a little happiness in the meantime, you snatch it. I will get Angus to drive you out to see Giselle and her mother. Please pass on my condolences about Herr Schumann.’