by Peter Watt
Sen shook his head. Jack Kelly was the only man on earth he would ever trust. Such was the power of his old friend. Now his family’s fate was in the hands of the Australian.
TWENTY-FOUR
With clearance granted by the harbour master, Lukas sailed the Independence into Port Moresby. In a cargo hold the shroud-wrapped body of Pastor Schmidt lay alongside that of a blanketwrapped Solomon Islander. Megan had insisted that both men should be buried ashore rather than disposed of at sea as Lukas had wanted – and she had got her way, Lukas having calculated that they were close enough to Port Moresby to allow such a request.
Entering the port, those remaining gathered on deck to view the array of shipping that filled the harbour. Ilsa Stahl was disappointed with her first sight of the township of Port Moresby. Standing at the bow of the Independence she saw that what had once been a quaint town of corrugated iron-roofed buildings nestling in the hills was now a town devastated by the Japanese air raids. Wisps of smoke rose here and there from the bombed buildings and the port was crowded with cargo ships unloading vital war supplies for the Australian garrison ashore. The surrounding hills were scorched bare and the red earth was revealed like blood on the landscape. Her first impression was not of a town but of a halfcostructed open-air factory.
‘It was not always like this,’ Megan said quietly beside her. ‘I remember Moresby as a lively, colourful town filled with characters of the sort to be found nowhere else on earth.’
‘It must have been wonderful before the war came here,’ Ilsa said. ‘I wish I had seen it then.’
‘Lukas told me that he had radioed ahead for you to meet one of your journalist colleagues when we get ashore,’ Megan commented. ‘If he is not there, you are more then welcome to doss down with me in Moresby until you find him.’
‘Thank you, Megan, but I am sure Mr Fay will be waiting for me. If I have any trouble I will take you up on your kind offer.’
They fell into silence as the dock neared, with the schooner manoeuvring to a small place between two huge American cargo ships. The noise of industry was clearly heard across the water, with men swearing as they unloaded the pallets of supplies in the tropical heat. Ilsa winced as she was not used to such profane language in her genteel world of New York’s religious circles. Megan seemed immune to the colourful language and Ilsa guessed that as a nurse amongst male patients she had heard it all before.
‘You don’t blame Lukas for what happened off Lae, do you?’ Megan asked suddenly as if it had been bottled up in her. ‘He was only doing his job as a soldier.’
Ilsa turned to gaze at her travelling companion. ‘I do not blame Lukas,’ she replied. ‘It is war and such things happen. I am sad because I can see how much the pastor’s death has affected him. If you think that I resent him, you are wrong. It is just that I knew the pastor well and he was like a father to me. So I feel his loss strongly.’
Megan turned away to watch the wharf glide closer. Momis was running along the deck with the mooring ropes and Lukas had an expression of complete concentration as he delicately swung the helm this way and that to ensure he did not collide with the two cargo ships. Behind the intense look on his face Megan could see the anguish and wished she could convince the master of the schooner that neither she nor Ilsa blamed him for their very close call with death. How different it all had been only months earlier when everything seemed so stable in this part of the world, she thought. Then it had been a time for dances, tennis parties, picnics and trips to the beach. All that had finished when the men had left to enlist.
They docked and Lukas assisted the two women ashore. ‘Thank you, Lukas,’ Ilsa said, and impulsively reached up to kiss him lightly on the cheek.
Startled, he stiffened but accepted the gesture as one of sympathy for the anguish he carried. ‘I hope we bump into each other sometime in the future,’ he said. ‘I am sorry for the loss of the pastor. He was an exceptional man for what he did.’
‘I am sure God has measured his sacrifice and found him not wanting,’ Ilsa responded. ‘I hope we meet again one day.’
Lukas watched her walking down the wharf, dodging the chaos and ignoring the wolf whistles from the bare-chested, sweating men who paused to watch her walk by. She was a rarity in a world now dominated by men, since the majority of European women and children had long been evacuated from Port Moresby. Only the native labourers did not express their admiration for the beautiful young woman who suddenly appeared amongst them. To do so would bring the wrath of their European companions down upon them.
‘Well, Lukas,’ Megan said, lining up to bid farewell to the Independence’s captain. ‘I will be seeing you – but hopefully not in my hospital.’He pushed forward his hand.
‘If it is good enough for Ilsa to give you a kiss goodbye then it is good enough for me also,’ she said with a mischievous smile, and reached up and pulled his face down to hers. Again, Lukas stiffened, but tasting the sweet softness of her mouth, relented. Then just as he was melting she pulled away from him.
Cheers and wolf whistles followed from the dockhands below. ‘Good on yer, cobber,’ he heard, and ‘Who’s a lucky bugger then?’
‘Well, Rifleman Lukas Kelly, if you are up at the hospital you just might see me again,’ Megan added, fully aware of the impact her unexpected kiss had on him.
‘Momis,’ Lukas called to his leading seaman, ‘help the missus get her bag up to the hospital.’
Momis responded immediately and scooped up the suitcase.
‘Thank you,’ Megan said and turned to walk away with a definite swing of her hips. Lukas watched her until she disappeared in the clutter of the wharf. He was still stunned as to what exactly her pleasant gesture meant. She lived after all in a world full of eligible men – and must have known it. He was not an officer and not even really in the fight against the Japanese. So what could she see in him?
Eugene Fay was waiting for Ilsa when she came and stepped ashore in Moresby. ‘Miss Stahl, over here,’ he called, dodging a canvas-backed military truck.
Ilsa could see a middle-aged man wearing American military fatigues and sweating profusely enough to make the green uniform look almost black in patches. He wore glasses and had the worldweary, disillusioned look all war correspondents bore. Most risked their lives to write reports which their editors then deemed too horrific to print for readers complacent with the official line of government propaganda.
‘Mr Fay, it is good to meet you,’ Ilsa said, taking his hand in a brief handshake.
He took her suitcase and indicated a Dodge sedan. ‘Call me Gene,’ he said with a bright smile. ‘I have transport and you will be staying with me out near the Seven Mile airfield until you are reassigned to God knows where in this asshole at the end of the earth. So welcome to hell. At least it is not as bad as where you left. No doubt you have heard that the Japs have taken Lae, and the Philippines seem to have been lost. Things are not looking too good in this part of the world.’
‘I had not heard,’ Ilsa said, opening the car door while Eugene Fay took his place behind the wheel.
‘Still trying to get used to this goddamned right hand drive,’ he mumbled as he fumbled with the ignition. ‘Bloody Aussies do everything like the Limeys,’ he continued as the car coughed into life.
‘I notice that you have picked up one of the Australians’ favourite adjectives,’ Ilsa said with a wry smile.
‘Yeah, which one?’ Eugene asked as he put the car in gear.
‘Bloody … you must have a lot of contact with our Australian allies.’
Eugene Fay glanced at Ilsa from the corner of his eye. ‘Pretty observant for a woman,’ he said. ‘Sounds like you might have the makings of a war correspondent yet.’
‘Has my accreditation come through?’ Ilsa asked, referring to the eagerly sought official acceptance by her government to allow her to work in the field with their troops and those of the Allies.
‘I gotta tell you that I was kinda surprised that Uncle Sam passed
you,’ Eugene said, honking the horn at a slow-moving army jeep in front of them. ‘You being a German-born person and all. All I can say is that you must have some pull with the government back home.’
Ilsa did not reply. Between her late stepfather’s valuable work for the American government against Hitler and the power of the Lutheran church with her local senator, she had been granted the credentials.
Eugene chatted on about what he knew of the war to date. The war in the Pacific was only a few months old and the Japanese had conquered the whole of Asia and most of the Pacific. They stood poised to take Port Moresby before consolidating and striking at the Australian mainland. Already, devastating bombing raids had been launched against northern coastal towns on the Australian mainland. Darwin, Broome and other towns had taken a battering from the weight of bombs dropped on them and the Japanese had also destroyed valuable shipping and aircraft. So far the loss of life to the raids had been a well-kept secret from the population of the southern cities to avoid feelings of panic.
‘Do you think that Port Moresby is under an immediate threat of invasion?’ Ilsa asked.
Eugene scratched his head as they passed a deserted native village on stilts jutting into the sea. ‘I have a bad feeling that we are next in this part of the world. I have talked to a lot of Aussie officers and men and they feel it is only a matter of days before the Japs come.’
‘How would they come?’ Ilsa asked, already filing the information away as material for writing her own stories from the Papuan front.
‘My guess is it will be by sea. Since Pearl Harbor we really haven’t had a chance to lick our wounds. It only makes sense that the Japs will continue their momentum with their navy leading the way. This war out here is shaping up to be a naval war in a big lake called the Pacific Ocean.’
‘Do you think the Australians can hold the Japanese at Port Moresby?’
Eugene frowned. ‘These guys were good back in the last war but what they have sent up here are boys who were too young to join their expeditionary force and be sent to the Middle East and North Africa. Maybe if they had their boys back from the Middle East they might make a stand but not with what they have now. No, without Uncle Sam backing them and a properly trained force they don’t stand a chance. It’s only a matter of time before you and I find ourselves being pulled out.’
Ilsa fell into silence. She had originally travelled to Papua and New Guinea to seek out her real father, and to do so she had accepted an assignment with her newspaper. Then the onset of war in this part of the world had disrupted her plans. Now Papua was facing an imminent invasion from a brutal enemy and as a war correspondent Ilsa would be in the front line. At least she could make a name for herself reporting on the war first hand. There was no fear in her decision to stay, more an elation at being able to be a part of history. Was this strange desire to face danger something she had inherited from the man who had sired her? She had loved her stepfather as if he had been her biological one but a desire to find her roots was also strong. When she located her Uncle Paul and Aunt Karin they would be able to tell her where this Jack Kelly was.
Sen was now a double agent – a rare prize to the Australian counter-intelligence people. His full cooperation brought a promise of security for his family, as Jack had promised. With his code name of Krait he was still trusted by his Japanese handlers and could now be used to transmit misinformation.
Sen’s bungalow was discreetly turned into an agency of Australian counter-intelligence with a fulltime staff of carefully screened personnel liaising with the armed services of the Australian government. His native staff were warned, on pain of death, to ignore any unusual comings and goings or activity around the house, and they did not have to be told twice. A further increase in their wages helped seal their silence and they also took a certain amount of pride in being considered part of the war effort against the Japanese men.
Sen transmitted what the counter-intelligence people required of him and Jack was not permitted to speak to his old friend again. Not that he had much choice as the wheels of the military ground into action and isolated Sen from all outside contact. Jack was allowed to stay on in the store room and took walks down to the beach. He would strip off and take long swims in the tropical waters, then rest on the beach under the shade of the overhang of coconut trees.
Four days after the night of Sen’s revelations of his espionage activities for the Japanese, Jack received word that the Independence had docked in Port Moresby harbour after a perilous journey from Lae. He spruced himself up and hitched a ride into town with an Australian corporal from the Signals Corp. Let off at the wharf he walked down the pier to the familiar sight of his schooner. Lukas was on the deck with Momis, inspecting new ropes that had been delivered that morning. He glanced up to see his father walking towards him only feet away.
‘Dad!’ he called from the deck and Jack leapt aboard with the nimbleness of a young man. The two man fell into a crushing bear hug – tears welling in both men’s eyes. ‘I thought the Japs might have got you by now,’ Lukas said, holding his father at arm’s length to gaze into his face. ‘They almost got us.’
Jack could see a change in his son. There was a sadness he could not conceal beneath his wide smile of welcome. Something had happened since their last meeting.
‘What happened?’ Jack asked, and Lukas seemed to crumple.
‘I lost a couple of good people out of Lae,’ Lukas replied. ‘Lost them because of my own stupidity.’
‘How about we go below and you tell me all about it,’Jack said. ‘I’ll put on the billy and you can tell me over a cuppa.’
Lukas nodded, brushing away the tears with the back of his hand. He felt stupid, like a kid again, for breaking down so easily at the mere sight of his father – that rock in his existence who seemed completely impervious to the worst life could throw at a man. But he was also overjoyed to meet once again with the only person in his life who could really understand what it felt like to lose people that you had been responsible for.
Jack filled the two chipped mugs with hot black tea and sat at the chart table while Lukas poured out the events of the last two weeks: the shooting down of the Japanese floatplane, the dash to it and how they had been intercepted by the Japanese submarine. It was when he continued with the actions that had transpired after Fuji came aboard that Lukas began to hesitate.
‘I was entrusted to ferry my passengers to Lae,’ he said. ‘And I lost the pastor and one of the boys. Ilsa said that the pastor threw himself in front of her and Megan – Sister Cain – to protect them from the Japs when they opened fire. If it had not been for him, Ilsa and Megan may have been killed. It should never have happened. I …’ Lukas fell into silence, staring with blank eyes at the chart on the table.
‘It may not be any consolation but you are a soldier in the NGVR and you did exactly what I would have done under the circumstances,’ Jack said, leaning forward to place his hand on his son’s head. ‘Your primary job is to fight – not flee – in the face of the enemy. I know that is a tough thing to ask of my only child but we are at war, and if the Japs keep going south we won’t be around to even reflect on such terrible decisions. You made the right decision and the pastor also bravely made the right decision. This war is all about protecting our women and children – not about simply fighting for your government. You said that you might have killed Fuji Komine,’Jack said, diverting his son’s attention from his self-recrimination. ‘From what I have learned lately, Fuji was assigned to a Jap sub, the I–47 on special duties. That was the same sub that rammed the Independence when Vicky was killed,’ he said. ‘I only hope that the RAAF sank it.’
‘From what I saw it looks pretty certain that they have put her down,’ Lukas reflected.
‘If that is so then I can sleep just a little easier,’ Jack sighed. ‘It is kind of ironic that you were present to see the death of the submarine that took Victoria’s life and kill the man who was indirectly involved in the death of D
ademo all those years back. Maybe there is an Old Testament God who believes in an eye for an eye after all, because I know I do.
‘So what happened to the two sheilas you were ferrying?’ his father asked with a playful shove of his son’s shoulder. ‘You fall in love with both of them?’
‘Dad!’ Lukas protested. ‘A man does not mix business with pleasure – you know that.’
‘So which one?’ Jack persisted. ‘You said that you eventually brought them both to Moresby.’
‘Sister Cain has been assigned to the medical services here,’ Lukas answered. ‘Miss Stahl, the Yank, was a bit of a mystery woman. She said that when she got to Moresby she was going to look up some relatives but I told her any German residents had been interned back in Australia.’
‘I thought you said she was a Yank.’
‘She was born in Munich and emigrated to America with her father about ten years ago. Because we had quite a few Germans around this part of the world before the war, I asked her who she was looking for, but she said it did not matter as she had an address. She was a bit mysterious about the whole matter.’
‘Looking for German relatives at this time can be a touchy matter,’ Jack said. ‘She was probably a bit sensitive about divulging who they were for that reason alone.’
‘Maybe you are right,’ Lukas frowned. ‘Anyway, she was met by aYank when we arrived. It seems that they are looking after her.’
‘So it was Miss Stahl who caught your fancy,’ Jack teased. ‘And not Sister Cain who I had the pleasure of meeting briefly up around Morohe way.’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Lukas retorted. ‘As a soldier sailor I haven’t been to all the ports yet.’
Jack laughed at his son’s joke. Long ago he had made reference to a sailor having a girl in every port. Lukas was still young and had plenty of time to find a long-term relationship in the future. Future? What bloody future? His son should seize any scrap of romance that came along in his life. And besides, Jack had immediately liked Megan when he had met her. The war was only in its infancy and Lukas might not be around to see it mature. Jack had learned that lesson from his own terrible experiences in the trenches of the last war.