by Peter Watt
Irvin rose with some effort and shook his head to clear the fog that made him teeter like a drunken man. Paul rose to assist him but was waved off. ‘I will be okay after I have something to eat and drink,’ Irvin said with a weak smile of reassurance. ‘Just a dash of the collywobbles – that’s all.’
Paul respected his wish and walked with him to the radio concealed beneath palm fronds. The party of men was barely visible in their hide even in bright daylight. They had become very good at camouflage and only by chance or bad luck would their camp be spotted. Careful steps had been taken to avoid aerial observation and the covert contact Irvin’s men had with some trusted villagers miles away provided them with an early warning of approaching Japanese patrols.
Amaiu manned the bicycle-like apparatus to pedal enough power to the radio, and Irvin transmitted the warning to the Allies. Contact was made and the warning was already being passed on to the appropriate command for analysis. The coast watcher had done his job.
‘We will have to make another move soon,’ Irvin said when he had completed his report. ‘It seems things are getting a bit hot around here. Kesanarulu returned while you and Amaiu were down at the observation post with news that the Japs have just moved a company-sized unit into the village. Seems that they are still onto us and Kesanarulu doubts that his contacts in the village will remain very steadfast if the Japs start playing rough in their usual fashion. The good news is that he was able to bring back some fresh pig meat and rice for us.’
Paul took a deep breath and sighed. This would be their fifth move in two weeks, each move was a back-breaking trek carrying the heavy radio equipment on their backs. But the radio was the centre of their universe – their sole reason for being behind enemy lines – and without it they may as well have gone home.
Paul wandered over to where he’d left his meagre kit: a change of clothes, a revolver and few spare rounds plus a Japanese rice bowl he now called his own. His boots had been patched many times and he calculated that they only had about another ten miles wear in them before they would be beyond repair. Supplies were low and most of their food was scrounged from local villagers who were neither sympathetic nor hostile to the coast watching party. As far as they were concerned the war was something between the Europeans and Asians and only became personal when the Japanese came to their villages, raped their women and murdered their boys for the sheer savage pleasure of inflicting pain. Then they were either cowered into submission or moved to take revenge. It was the latter that was most useful to Irvin in his intelligence gathering. The coast watchers had been fortunate so far and the ambush when Sandy Robinson had been killed had been the last clash they had with the enemy. Sandy’s death had caused Paul many sleepless nights, reliving the moment he had killed the young soldier in an act of mercy. It seemed as if there was no balance in life to offset what Paul was beginning to view as the murder of an innocent man. He had not spoken of his terrible decision to Irvin, who presumed that Sandy had been killed by Japanese bullets.
‘There is something I should tell you,’ Irvin said, sitting himself down next to Paul and wrapping his spare kit into a piece of tent canvas. ‘I have been in contact with ANGAU. It seems that there is going to be some kind of rescue attempt of the boys still evading the Japs. I haven’t told you before because I didn’t want you to get your hopes up but now it doesn’t matter. We are too far outside their rendezvous points of embarkation. So it seems that you will have to remain with me until the situation changes.’
‘I thank you for telling me, Irvin,’ Paul said. ‘But I do not expect that I have any importance to your government anymore. My mission to ascertain who could be trusted under occupation was a failure. Just a little too late to achieve much.’
‘You have not failed here,’ Irvin said. ‘With me being laid out you have taken over to keep up the flow of information back to HQ. Maybe some of it has resulted in the waylaying of Jap plans. Maybe between us we have sent a few ships to the bottom or caused one or two planes to be blown out of the sky. Who knows? So don’t go thinking you have failed over here. You are a cobber of the best kind.’
Paul smiled. He still remembered the first time he had heard the Australian slang for a friend. Jack Kelly had used it when they had been reunited in Port Moresby just after the Great War when Paul had emigrated with Karin and his son, Karl and his troubled sister, Erika, from Germany, leaving the troubles of the Old World behind them. Paul now treasured its use by men like Jack and Irvin as it meant an unconditional acceptance into an exceptional band of men.
‘I miss my family,’ Paul said quietly. ‘I hope Karin and Angelika will be safe in Townsville.’
‘That your wife and daughter?’ Irvin asked.
‘Yes, I also have a son. Last I heard he was serving somewhere in the Middle East with the army. He is an infantry officer.’
‘I have a son in the RAAF who I last heard was flying fighters out of Darwin. It’s a terrible irony that we fought the last war so this would not happen to our children,’ Irvin said. ‘I am sure that your family will be okay.’
‘I hope the same for you,’ Paul responded.
‘Well, time to get back on the track and get out of here before our little yellow friends find us,’ Irvin said, rising to supervise the relocation of his campsite. ‘Maybe something will happen to get you home to your missus and family,’ he added reassuringly.
Watching his friend walk away, Paul let out a deep sigh. Just words, he thought sadly. He was rapidly losing hope that he would ever get off the island alive. This war was now too big for anyone in a position of authority to be worried about an individual yearning for his family. For Australians the matter occupying their every thought was surviving the impending invasion and subsequent enslavement by the Japanese Emperor.
It was Sen who quietly told Jack Kelly of Paul Mann’s predicament. Jack had wrangled a pass to Sen’s residence from an old friend involved in the tight security surrounding the bungalow. An officer with the new administration of ANGAU, he had listened as Jack explained how he needed to visit Iris to discuss their inheritance.
‘I suppose since it was you who brought Sen’s activities to our attention it’s not likely that you would be a threat to security,’ he said, leaning back in his chair, chewing the end of a fountain pen. He sat up and reached into a drawer of his desk and withdrew a pad of official government forms. ‘This will get you to the OC out there and it will be up to him whether you are allowed to see this Iris sheila,’he said, scribbling his signature on the form. ‘I can’t promise more than that.’
Jack took the form and hitched a ride with a supply truck out to Sen’s residence. He was unsurprised to see the guards posted around the house, as Sen’s counter-intelligence role was of vital importance in providing misinformation to his Japanese controller, who still did not appear to realise that their man near Moresby was a double agent.
Jack charmed the young officer from army intelligence into allowing him a brief talk with Sen. Jack was impressed at how the house had been converted to a signals centre with an area soundproofed for Sen to work in. It was a busy place with signallers manning the radio sets, hunched forward with their earphones over their heads, jotting down incoming transmissions and turning knobs to scan for allocated frequencies. Obviously a decision had been made to shift counter-intelligence signals out of Moresby to a place safe from bombing. Sen’s place was ideal as it was unobtrusively tucked away into the surrounding forest.
In truth, Jack had really wanted to see his old friend again and Iris had only been his excuse to do so. No matter what Sen had done, he still remained the man who had helped Jack so much in the past, including helping with the purchase of his first ship, the lugger Erika Sarah.
Under the scrutiny of an armed guard Jack and Sen were allowed to walk in the garden.
‘Paul is trapped on New Britain,’ Sen whispered.
Jack pretended not to hear him.
‘Do you know where?’ Jack asked, equally as qu
ietly.
‘I overheard the duty officer discussing his evacuation from the southern part of the island when he was in contact with a coast watcher there. It seems that your government cannot do it so Paul is stuck. They can’t reach him, but I know about the rescue mission the NGVR are mounting to get survivors off the island.’
‘Is there any way you can tell me where Paul is?’ Jack asked with a pained expression.
‘I am afraid not,’ Sen replied, stopping to gaze back at his house. ‘It was only good luck that I actually overheard the transmission and Paul’s name mentioned. It seems that he is doing a valuable job as an assistant to the resident coast watcher.’
‘Momis comes from the south of the island,’ Jack said. ‘Maybe if we could get him over there on the Independence he might be able to use his clan links to locate Paul.’
‘That is not a good idea,’ Sen said. ‘You know that the Japanese are consolidating their grip on New Britain. You would be blown out of the water before you even got close.’
Jack fell silent, contemplating the awesome task should he pursue it. ‘I just can’t leave Paul to die,’ he finally said in a despairing tone. ‘He is like a brother to me.’
‘I suppose if anyone can do it, it will be you, Jack,’ Sen said, turning to walk back to the house. The guard had signalled that their time was up, reminding Sen that he was still officially under house arrest for his crime of treason.
‘I guess that I should drop in and see Iris,’ Jack finished. ‘That is why I am supposedly here.’
TWENTY-SIX
When Jack Kelly returned to the wharf at Port Moresby supplies were being loaded aboard the Independence by the three newly hired native crewmen. Lukas, stripped to his shorts, was overseeing the operation.
Leaping aboard, Jack greeted his son and motioned for him to follow him below. Lukas gave a short order for Momis to take over the loading.
‘I have some news about your Uncle Paul,’ Jack said.
‘What about Uncle Paul?’ Lukas asked, rummaging in a cabinet for a rag to wipe the sweat from his brow.
‘He is alive and somewhere in the south of New Britain.’
‘Then he will be on the list for evacuation,’ Lukas said with relief. ‘Thank God.’
‘I’m afraid not,’Jack said. ‘It seems he is too far south to be picked up. The Japs have tightened the net around the island and last I heard from my sources at HQ the only shipping allocated for the rescue must head south to Townsville or Cairns after the survivors are picked up. It’s risky enough and the south of the island has been struck from the list. Paul is stranded, without any hope of getting off.’
Jack did not have to elaborate. Lukas knew that being stranded in Japanese-occupied New Britain was as good as a death sentence. Paul Mann was not a young man and the rigours of evading Japanese search parties would wear him down to the point that he could easily make a mistake costing him his life. ‘What can we do?’ Lukas asked, suspecting that his father had already formulated a plan.
‘You and I sail over to New Britain, put Momis ashore to ask questions of his clansmen around the south of the island, find Paul and sail for Townsville.’
‘As simple as that,’ Lukas smiled, a touch of irony in his statement. ‘How do you get permission in the first place to carry out such a risky mission?You are on active service like I am with the NGVR. We are not in a position to go sailing around without permission.’
‘I was not thinking about asking permission,’ Jack replied. ‘If I did, the CO would stamp the mission as suicidal and stop me from going.’
‘I was kind of thinking a bit along the same lines,’ Lukas said. ‘Our chances of succeeding are a lot less than the chances of being killed.’
‘I promised Karin a long time ago that I would never allow anything bad to happen to Paul,’ Jack said quietly, gazing out of a porthole at the Moresby harbour filled with shipping. ‘That promise still stands. Besides, I know Paul is stupid enough to do the same for me. You are not obliged to sail with me.’
‘You actually think that I wouldn’t come with you?’ Lukas said, shaking his head in bewilderment. ‘We have been up against the odds and always won before,’ he added. ‘Like when we first bought the Erika Sarah all those years ago.’
‘It may be better if you stayed behind on this one,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t know if I could go on living knowing that it was me who led you to your death.’
‘It’s war, Dad,’ Lukas said, reaching out to grasp his father’s shoulder. ‘We take our chances together.’
Jack gazed at his son’s face and saw the grim determination. It was an expression he knew well. ‘I think the old girl could do with a bit of upgrading in the arms department though,’ Jack said. ‘We sail in twenty-four hours. I will get clearance from the harbour master and see if I can scrounge up a little extra to help us out with the schooner’s defence.’
Jack had a real skill for obtaining the unobtainable and returned before nightfall with a smile across his face that spoke of an afternoon filled with drinking and success. He was driven to the schooner’s place at the wharf by an American engineers officer in a jeep.
‘Lukas,’ Jack called from the wharf. ‘Get Momis and the boys up here to help me unload.’
Lukas popped his head above deck and saw his crew already scrambling over the side to assist in the unloading of the jeep. Jack stood by puffing on a cigar as the crew picked up the wooden crates and took them aboard. Lukas wondered what was in them.
‘Like you to meet my old cobber Captain Madison,’Jack said to his son when he joined them on the wharf. ‘This is my first mate Lukas Kelly, and number one son. Captain Madison and I have had a mutually successful afternoon.’
Lukas nodded to the tall American in his immaculate uniform.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ the American drawled. ‘Your old man says that he once owned a gold mine out here.’
‘That’s right,’ Lukas confirmed, but wondered at the statement with growing suspicion.
‘You prepared to countersign these papers then?’ Captain Madison asked, producing a couple of sheets of crumpled paper that appeared at first glance to be property deeds. Lukas glanced at his father who gave him a wink.
‘Are these the deeds to Dad’s gold mine?’ Lukas asked when the papers were handed to him.
‘He says they are,’ the American replied. ‘Your old man reckons that because the Nips will surely overrun your mine, he is prepared to hand over the deeds to me in exchange for one or two things I was able to put my hands on for him.’
‘So why would they be any good to you?’ Lukas asked, glancing up at the captain.
‘One day, Uncle Sam is going to kick the little yellow bastards all the way back to Japan,’ Madison answered. ‘And when that day comes I will own a gold mine here in New Guinea.’
‘I suppose you will,’ Lukas replied with surprise at the American’s optimism. ‘If my father wishes to trade whatever he has with you then I will countersign the letter granting you possession of the deeds. But I have to ask, how do you know they are genuine?’
‘Before the war I was a lawyer back in Tennessee,’ Madison answered. ‘I know a title deed when I see it.’
Lukas signed the papers Captain Madison put before him and with a handshake the American got back into the jeep and drove away.
‘Get the stuff aboard,’ Jack ordered, and the crates were lugged onto the deck of the schooner. Lukas and the crew stood about them with an air of curiosity. Jack tossed the remains of his cigar stub over the side and, with a jemmy, opened the first crate to reveal an air-cooled .50 calibre machine gun lying on its side.
‘Bloody beauty,’ Lukas exclaimed at the sight of the powerful weapon. ‘Where did it come from?’
‘A downed Yank bomber, I believe,’ Jack said, standing back to allow the crew to gaze upon the weapon capable of long range and hard hitting accuracy. ‘There is more,’ Jack said, levering open the next crate to reveal two .45 Thompson sub machine guns.<
br />
Lukas’ eye lit up and he retrieved one of the sub machine guns from the crate. His father continued to open the other crates. Mills grenades were stacked in one, a couple of Browning .45 semi-automatic pistols and tins of ammunition for all the weapons in another.
‘Tried to get a forty mills Bofors but Captain Madison baulked at that. Just a little too obvious, he thought. But I was able to scrounge a couple of these,’ he said, retrieving a strange-looking device. ‘They fit on the end of the Lee Enfield and can be loaded with a grenade, then a blank round is used to project them, turning the rifle into something like a mortar.’
‘All for the Hindenburg mine,’ Lukas laughed. ‘It played out years ago. Not worth the paper it was written on.’
‘The title was real enough,’ Jack said, lighting another cigar and puffing contentedly on it. ‘Besides, you never know, with Yankee know-how he just might get it working again – if we win the war. And if he doesn’t, it couldn’t happen to a nicer bloke than a bloody lawyer. I have no doubt that they are just as bad in the States as here. So let’s stow this below and we can show Momis and the boys how to use the stuff once we’re out of the harbour. From what you have told me about Momis’ prowess with the Lewis I reckon that he has earned the right to be first gunner on the fifty cal.’
Momis grinned at the praise heaped on him by Masta Jack and gazed lovingly at the big machine gun lying at his feet. He could take on the whole Japanese navy and air force with such a gun, he thought.
‘I will get clearance to sail at zero one hundred hours tomorrow,’ Jack said. ‘In the meantime I am going to nip back into town and see if I can scrounge a carton of beer for the trip. Your Uncle Paul will need one when we pick him up. Don’t expect me until around midnight. I will probably have a couple with the boys.’
Lukas turned his attention to having the weapons moved below as his father clambered over the side onto the wharf. There was a lot to do before they sailed.