by Peter Watt
Megan had Lukas placed in the bed next to his father. He was still unconscious from the effects of the chloroform but looked at peace, Megan thought, pulling up the clean sheet to the young man’s chin.
‘Sister, how will he be?’ Jack asked from the adjoining bed. He had been woken earlier by one of the orderlies, who knew Jack and told him of Lukas’ operation to remove a bullet from his lung.
‘The doctor thinks Lukas will recover very well,’ Megan replied, turning to Jack in the dim light of the ward now filled with the sounds of men snoring or talking in troubled voices to themselves in their sleep. ‘There is no reason for you to worry, Jack,’ she continued in a soothing voice. ‘I am here to make sure of that.’
‘God bless you, Meg. I know Lukas and I are in good hands with you.’
Impulsively, Megan leaned over and kissed Jack on the forehead. ‘What did I do to deserve that?’ Jack said with a gentle smile. ‘An old man like me – when my handsome son over there missed out.’
‘Lukas will get his kiss when he wakes up,’ Megan said, returning the smile. ‘For now you must go back to sleep and if you are a good boy, I might let you out of bed in the morning for some exercise in the garden.’
‘Does that mean, Sister, if I can get to the edge of the garden I can head down to the pub?’ Jack asked with a cheeky grin.
‘Not on your bloody life, Sergeant Kelly,’ Megan replied with feigned sternness. ‘You are restricted to the hospital grounds – until I grant you leave.’
‘Ah, women,’ Jack sighed. ‘You rule our lives with iron wills.’
Megan turned away, pretending not to hear Jack’s view of her gender. She had her rounds to do with the other men in her care and although they were all precious to her, the two men in the beds she had just left behind were definitely nearest to her heart. She had once heard a girlfriend in Brisbane comment that if you wanted to see what the son would be like in the future, look to the father in the present. Megan knew that she truly loved Lukas Kelly, and if he turned out like his father she was a fortunate woman.
Captain Karl Mann stood on the verandah of his parents’ house in Townsville, his kitbag beside him.
‘Karl, oh Karl,’ he heard his mother cry, as she rushed to smother him in kisses and hugs as if he were still a little boy. Close behind her was Angelika, tears of joy streaming down her face as she flew to meet her brother. ‘Why did you not telephone to say that you would be coming home?’ his mother chided between tears and kisses.
‘I was not sure if I could get any leave,’ Karl mumbled, having the breath squeezed from him. ‘I have been posted to Port Moresby and our train is only here for a few hours.’
Karin stepped back to examine her son. It had been almost two years since she had last seen him and her mother’s eye immediately noticed the changes. He was leaner, with an air of toughness she had not seen before in her normally easy-going and gentle boy. Behind the eyes she could see the haunted look of a man always on the alert. However she did not care about these differences, and broke down into another fit of sobbing at the joy she felt for the sudden and unexpected appearance of her boy.
Angelika was a little more composed than her mother and set about preparing coffee and biscuits for a morning tea. But she could not hide her pride at seeing her brother standing so tall and handsome in the living room and wearing the uniform of an officer, a small strip of colourful riband on his tunic recognising his courage. Oh how different you look, she thought. You have seen much pain, my dearest brother. Tears came to her and she turned away lest her brother see that they were not of joy but of sorrow, for she had lost the boy who in company with Lukas Kelly would tease her when they were in Papua as children. The man who stood in the living room now was a man who had come from war but would have to return to war – this was just a temporary state of joy, for when he was gone from the house the pain of waiting would return.
‘Oh, Karl, I miss your father so much and fear that I might lose you also,’ Karin said when they were sitting at the tiny wooden table with the pot of coffee between them. ‘He was supposed to join us but he just disappeared to God knows where, and then we were told that he had been killed in action,’ she added. ‘I have written to your Uncle Jack in Port Moresby but I have heard nothing back from him to date. No one in Townsville is able to help me and I don’t even have the consolation of burying my husband.’
‘Dad was a tough old bastard,’ Karl attempted to soothe. ‘I am sure wherever he lies he is at peace.’
As soothing as Karl tried to be, he felt a leaden ball in his stomach at his father’s fate. He had learnt just how cheap life was in war, and his only hope was to finally get to Papua where he would be in a better position to solve the mystery of his father’s death for his mother’s peace of mind.
The time went all too fast. Karl had not wanted his mother and sister to come with him to the railway station to see him off but left them with the promise that he would return on leave before he was shipped out again.
They accepted his request and Karl set out from the old high-set timber house just outside Townsville to walk back to the station. He did not turn back to see his mother and sister standing forlornly watching him depart as he did not want them to see the tears in his eyes. Oh, how he hated war. It only brought pain to those who could not stand and face their enemies as he could.
As Karl took his seat on the train, and as it steamed away from the railway station, he stared at the window, where a vague reflection showed him the face of a man lost in hell. His father had disappeared in mysterious circumstances and Karl suspected that the once-proud German had taken up the cause of the Allies only to die.
Rattling north into the tropical countryside of northern Queensland, Karl knew he was once again going back into action – but this time in the country he called home.
THIRTY-SIX
Even the doctor who had operated on Lukas Kelly marvelled at his rapid recovery from the bullet wound. Within a week Lukas was in his hospitalissue dressing gown sitting in a deck chair under the shade of a tree in the ward grounds. He gazed at the bright splash of bougainvillea flowers and brooded about his future now that he had received the news of the sinking of his schooner with the complete loss of life of his crew.
‘I thought that we might make our escape to the pub tonight,’ a voice cut across Lukas’s melancholy thoughts. ‘Just you and me.’
Lukas glanced up to see his father standing over him with his hands in the pockets of his gown. ‘That would be nice, Dad,’ Lukas replied evasively. ‘Except I don’t think I am well enough yet.’
Jack took a seat in a deck chair beside his son’s. ‘It just so happens that Sister Megan Cain also has the night off – or so I heard in the ward.’
Lukas shifted in his deck chair with what Jack knew was guilt. It was obvious that his son had already made plans and was torn by the choice.
‘Ah, is that right,’ Lukas commented lamely. ‘Maybe I will get the opportunity to sit out in the garden and talk to her then.’
Jack grinned. He sometimes enjoyed gently teasing his son. ‘You could do worse than Meg,’ he finally said to let his son off the hook. ‘She has a beautiful soul and I can see how much she is in love with you every time she is around you, cobber.’
‘You think so?’ Lukas blurted. ‘Meg has never really said anything to me. Not even when …’ He checked himself. He was not about to confess to his father how he and Meg had spent their time at the plantation.
Jack burst into a rolling laugh. ‘The loss of your bloody eye was worse than I thought. You must be the only bloke here who has not seen how she acts around you.’
‘I think I did ask her out when they brought me in,’ Lukas replied. ‘I think I asked her to go on a picnic with me when I was better.’
‘Then you should think about seeing Megan tonight.’
Lukas gazed at his father and felt a swell of love, yet at the same time an unfathomable depth of sorrow. What would happen after they were bo
th cleared to return to service? For his father it probably meant rejoining the NGVR and returning to their front lines in the jungles west of Lae. As for himself? There was no immediate answer. He had lost his schooner but still remained a rifleman with the NGVR. Maybe he could join his father when he returned to his unit. At least that way he could keep an eye out for him.
‘What’s funny?’ Jack asked when he heard his son burst into laughter.
‘Nothing, Dad, just something I was thinking.’ Keeping an eye out for him would make me completely blind, Lukas thought and was glad the unspoken joke at himself had helped clear the terrible sadness. The way the war was going for the Allies against the Axis powers made the future bleak enough.
‘You know, when I get out of here I am heading down to Sydney,’ Jack said. ‘I have some unfinished business concerning the last will and testament of an old friend.’
Lukas glanced sharply at his father. ‘You mean that?’ he asked.
‘I have to,’ Jack answered. ‘How else am I going to be able to replace the Independence unless I have some money? I think my old cobber, Lord Spencer, would have approved of that idea. And under the conditions of his will my appearance in the offices of Sullivan, Levi & Duffy will ensure that Iris and her daughter are well taken care of.’
Lukas was elated at his father’s proposal to journey to Sydney. To do so meant taking him out of the front lines and away from danger.
The idea of another schooner had not entered Lukas’ mind. But it had Jack’s. The schooner had been the soul of Victoria after she had been killed and to Jack another boat would show the Japanese that they could not destroy his life so easily. It was as much an act of defiance as it was a practical way of keeping his son out of the jungle hell he had come to know so well. Jack Kelly was not optimistic about the chances of the vital port of Moresby withstanding a full naval assault by the seemingly unstoppable Japanese navy. At the back of his mind was the thought that at least his son would have a guaranteed means of escaping the impending invasion. The new schooner would be his ticket out of Papua – and hopefully also for Megan and others. It was a long shot but better than nothing.
Weeks had passed for Keela and Fuji in their slow but cautious sea voyage to the most eastern tip of Papua. Fuji knew the area as Milne Bay and also knew that he would now have to tack a course north-east through to the Trobriand Islands if he wanted to reach the safety of the waters controlled by his navy.
In the weeks of paddling, sailing and going ashore each night Fuji’s knowledge of the coast from his boyhood voyaging with his father had kept them away from known European outposts and native villages. Occasionally they had been buzzed by aircraft from the RAAF or the American air force but left alone when the observers above realised it was just a couple of natives out at sea.
Sustained only by the fish they caught and the coconut flesh they were able to obtain when they went ashore, both had lost weight and Fuji worried about Keela’s condition, but she proved as durable as he in the voyage. She did not complain and appeared to be content in his arms each night they lay and watched the stars overhead.
With Milne Bay on his portside, Fuji began to believe that they would make it to Rabaul or be lucky enough to be picked up by one of his own naval ships patrolling the Solomon Sea. If that was to happen, what would become of Keela, he thought, watching her as he sat in the narrow hull of the wooden canoe. He was still a sailor and subject to the discipline of his superiors, who had little time for relationships between their men and the native girls.
Keela turned her head to glance at him and her long dark hair fell over her face in a heart-wrenching manner. She smiled briefly and turned back to fix a point ahead to navigate. It was a part of her ancestral seagoing instincts, Fuji thought, that she could keep a course as he directed from his hand-held compass. If only his people could see just how worthy this woman was, the Japanese sailor brooded morosely, they could not consider her a mere animal. For once in his military life Fuji had doubts about the rightness of his own people. Was it that he was thinking more like a Papuan native than a Japanese man?
Soon, the tropical coast rose and fell below the horizon and the tiny sea craft was alone with its occupants upon the expanse of the Solomon Sea.
Megan paraded her two patients in her office. ‘The doctor has given his approval to discharge you both,’ she said from behind her desk. ‘Like me, he thinks any longer in hospital and we would have to recruit you to the staff – or have you both locked up for being awol from the wards at night, only to return with the strong smell of alcohol on your breaths.’
Megan tried to sound cheerful and joke about Jack and Lukas’ release from her care but felt differently. She had seen the orders from the NGVR HQ posting Lukas somewhere in the mountains overlooking Lae. That meant coming into direct contact with the Japanese in their stealthy war of information gathering and fooling them into holding their ground on the coast rather than pushing forward through the rugged jungle passes towards Port Moresby. She was at least pleased that Jack had been granted leave to return to Australia on urgent family matters. At least he would be safe for the moment.
‘Aye, aye, ma’am,’ Lukas saluted. ‘Permission to ask you out tonight, before I ship out, Sister Cain.’
Megan crossed in front of her desk, taking Lukas’s hand and kissing him on the cheek. ‘Do you mind if I speak to your father alone?’
Lukas frowned, but shrugged and stepped outside.
‘What is it Meg?’ Jack asked, and could see that she appeared to be struggling with something of great concern.
‘I heard that you have been able to hitch a ride out with the RAAF to Australia,’ Megan said. ‘That means you will be going out to the Seven Mile strip.’
‘That’s right,’ Jack replied. ‘This afternoon, for a flight to Cairns.’
Megan took a deep breath before saying, ‘Some weeks ago when you were in the grips of the fever you had a visitor.’
‘Yeah, one of the other blokes in here mentioned something about a Yank journalist coming to the ward,’ Jack said. ‘He said that she was a real looker.’
‘Her name is Ilsa Stahl and she is quartered out at Seven Mile,’ Megan explained. ‘I think you should make every attempt to find her before you leave for home.’
‘Why, Meg? If I remember rightly she was the Yank Lukas brought back with you, wasn’t she?’
Megan could not look Jack in the eye. She stared out the window of her office at Lukas standing in the garden patiently waiting for his father. ‘Miss Stahl is that same woman,’ she answered.
A thought dawned on Jack. ‘Is my son somehow involved with her?’ he asked in a protective tone.
‘No, no,’ Megan hurried to counter Jack’s unfounded suspicions. ‘I would like to say more but I do not feel that it is my place to explain why it is important that you find Miss Stahl and speak with her. If you do, I know you will understand why I have not been able to tell you more than I have. All I can say is, just find Miss Stahl and all will be revealed.’
‘Not even a hint?’ Jack frowned.
‘I’m sorry, Jack, but you must find out for yourself.’
Jack sighed. Why was it that women tended to be so mysterious about even the simplest of events in their lives? What could be so important to warrant all this mystery and intrigue? ‘Well, okay,’ he shrugged.
‘Jack, you promise?’ Megan asked.
‘I promise,’ he replied. ‘So long as it does not disturb my plans to fly out of here this afternoon.’
Megan leaned forward and reached up to kiss Jack on the forehead, gently brushing his face with her hand. ‘You take care, Sergeant Kelly,’ she said as she stepped back. ‘I would like you to be at your son’s wedding.’
‘Does he know yet?’ Jack asked with a broad grin.
‘Not yet,’ Megan replied with a gentle shrug of her own. ‘He is not quite as bright as his father.’
‘You know I would be honoured to give my son into your care,’ Jack said, ta
king her hands in his. ‘He could do no better if he searched the world ten times over.’
Megan gave his hands a quick squeeze of pleasure. ‘Well, I should not hold you two up as I suspect your first stop will be the pub.’
Jack’s grin confirmed her assumption. ‘See ya, lassie,’ he said, plonking his battered slouch hat on his head before leaving the room to join his son in the garden.
‘What was that all about?’ Lukas asked.
‘Nothing much,’ Jack answered as they fell into step to head towards the busy hotel. ‘Just something about wedding plans.’
‘Whose?’ Lukas asked suspiciously.
‘No one in particular,’ his father replied.
But Lukas frowned. It was just like his father to tease him.
THIRTY-SEVEN
At the Seven Mile airstrip Jack found the quarters of the American war correspondents. ‘I’m looking for Miss Ilsa Stahl,’ he told the man who introduced himself as Gene Fay.
‘You just missed her but she should be back in about an hour,’ Gene said. ‘Any message I can take for her?’
Jack was not sure what to say. He did not even know why he was supposed to introduce himself to the Yankee woman but at least he had satisfied his promise to Megan. ‘Just say Jack Kelly dropped by to make himself known,’ Jack said.
‘I don’t know if that will make any sense to Miss Stahl because it sure as hell doesn’t make any sense to me,’ Gene said. ‘But I will make sure Miss Stahl gets the message. I don’t know why, but I think you are the man she has a hankering to meet for reasons she has not revealed to me.’
‘That leaves us both mystified,’ Jack said in parting.
Jack sat in the shade of a bulldozer out of the blazing sun and watched as men stripped to their waists and tanned black by the sun went about the business of repairing the airstrip which had been damaged by Japanese air raids. The C47 Dakota that was to take him south to Australia was being refuelled and Jack waited for the signal to board. He had used one of his innumerable contacts in the administration to obtain the precious passage aboard the plane after being granted leave from his unit. An hour passed and Jack noticed the twin engines of the transport plane cough into action. He hefted himself to his feet and swung his kitbag over his shoulder. From the corner of his eye he noticed a car driving at top speed towards the strip from the direction of the correspondents’ quarters at the far end of the Seven Mile encampment.