by Peter Watt
‘You are a deserter, Komine, and thus a coward. You have no rights to ask anything,’ the officer said, his voice rising in his anger. With a sudden movement that Fuji did not see coming, the officer lashed out with his fist, smashing into Fuji’s face and knocking him back on his heel to fall beside Keela, who was cowering in fear. Fuji reached out to take her hand in reassurance that all would be well.
‘Take this cur of a coward away,’ the officer bawled and Fuji felt hands grab him under the arms to haul him to his feet. He knew that there was no sense in attempting to fight. As a sailor in the Emperor’s navy he was subject to all its laws, although back in Rabaul he might have a chance to clear his name when his part in the I–47’s mission to the Moresby district was revealed.
The two soldiers forced him to his feet and marched him at the end of bayonets down to the ramp of the barge whilst the officer and the rest of the section remained with Keela. Fuji did not know what they would do with her but presumed that they would just simply leave her stranded on the island. At least her people had trading contacts with the peoples of this part of the world and he knew that she would be cared for until she could return to her own people near Port Moresby.
He was stood with a soldier either side of him and stared up the beach at Keela, wanting to cry out that everything would be all right in the future and that he would one day return for her. But to his horror he saw that she had been forced to her knees while a soldier holding her long, lustrous hair forced her head forward. What came next seared Fuji’s soul forever. He saw the officer slide his slightly curved, long sword from its scabbard and with both hands raise the sword above his head where the sun caught the razor-sharp edge with a shiver of silver fire. The cry of ‘Banzai!’ went up in a roar as Keela’s head came away from her torso and a jet of blood stained the white coral sands black.
The soldier holding the head fell backwards and his misfortune was greeted with rollicking laughter from his comrades. Fuji buckled and retched into the shallow water at the edge of the beach.
Smiling smugly, the young officer wiped the blade of his sword with a white silk handkerchief without giving Fuji a glance. He slid the sword back into the scabbard, turned his back on the dead girl and walked away from the execution ground. She was after all, nothing more than a sub-species of humanity, and to take her with them would have necessitated extra work. Leaving her behind alive might have meant a serious breach of security should she have reported their presence at the southern end of the island. The officer had done what was required by all the Japanese ethics of war.
Grief-stricken, Fuji was taken aboard the barge with his hands tied behind his back with wire. It was hardly necessary as he was numbed into a state of emotional shock. The worst part was that he was powerless to contest the actions of a superior officer, he brooded, huddled in the corner of the barge. One day, he swore to himself, he would kill the man who had so brutally taken his woman and future child from him. Maybe the Papuan idea of ‘payback’ had rubbed off on him. Perhaps he was more Papuan than Japanese, but one day he would kill the officer. For now all he had to do was get back to naval headquarters at Rabaul and prove that he was not a coward and a deserter.
Jack Kelly dozed fitfully in the railway carriage bumping its way north to Townsville. In the dark he could hear the soft murmur of soldiers’ voices, or the occasional laughter from an unheard joke told by one of the young men unable to sleep on the cramped and hard seats. His business was done in Sydney and it was time to go home. He would go as far as Townsville and then hitch a flight through one of his contacts in the RAAF stationed in the big rural town of Queensland’s north.
Jack found getting to sleep hard and hefted himself upright in his seat to rifle through his kitbag, which he had been using as a pillow. From the kitbag Jack retrieved his pipe and tobacco. He formed the tobacco into a plug in the bowl of the battered old briar pipe and automatically cupped the lit match in his hand. It was something he even did in peacetime from years being careful in the trenches of France. How strange that his old habit was once again in vogue with this new war, he thought as he puffed contentedly on the thick sweet smoke.
What a surprise Lukas would receive when he was told of the purchase of the new schooner, he contemplated, staring out the window at the dark countryside passing by. He would get Lukas discharged from the NGVR the same way he had enlisted his son. The NGVR were an entity unto themselves and fought their own war according to their rules although they were a part of the Australian army overall. Maybe it was because the men of the NGVR were a peculiar breed – the last real adventurers of the twentieth century.
Jack turned away from the window to stare ahead at the interior of the dark carriage. If nothing else he was ensuring that his son would be looked after. His own death had come to him in his dreams many times and Jack knew that he would not survive a second war. Since the death ofVictoria he had remained alive only long enough to protect his son’s future. He was no longer a young man and age would only slow him down whereas a Japanese bullet would be faster.
The train clanged to a halt at a tiny railway station and the mail bags were offloaded while a platoon of soldiers boarded. ‘Hear the news?’ he heard one of the soldiers declare to anyone still awake. ‘Our navy and theYanks have stopped the Japs in the Coral Sea.’
Jack grabbed the young man as he made his way down the aisle. ‘What’s this about the Coral Sea?’ he asked.
‘Bloody Nips were going to try and take Port Moresby with a sea invasion but our boys turned them around in some big battle out in the Coral Sea. It looks as if the Japs will have to find some other way of capturing Moresby.’
‘Thanks, cobber,’ Jack said, and let the soldier stumble on down the aisle as the train pulled out from the station.
Jack had an old mate on the HMAS Hobart and had a gut feeling that his ship had been in the thick of action. So the Japs had thrown their powerful navy at Port Moresby and failed. No doubt there would be some celebrating in the Moresby pubs, Jack thought with a relieved smile. The immediate danger to the frontier town was gone and Lukas’ life was guaranteed for a bit longer.
THIRTY-NINE
Fear pervaded the very air in the room and sweat rolled down Fuji’s body as he stood to attention before the commanding officer of the dreaded Kemptai police in the former Australian government office in Rabaul. He still only wore the lap-lap he had been wearing when he had been taken prisoner, and his body was showing the ravages of beatings from the hands of the Japanese military police whilst he awaited the investigation to be completed. It had been three weeks since the death of Keela, and Fuji did not care if they executed him, for his world was now a bleak place of dishonour and emptiness.
The officer sitting behind the desk was immaculately dressed and standing to one side was the toad-like senior NCO Fuji had known from months earlier when he had helped round up the Australian soldiers who had fought against them in New Britain. It had been this same man who had beaten Fuji here in Rabaul, in an attempt to force him to confess to desertion, but the young Japanese sailor had resisted and after a time the NCO beat him for the sheer pleasure of inflicting pain. It had only been Fuji’s desire to remain alive long enough to hunt down and kill the marine officer who had beheaded Keela that kept him alive. Meanwhile, the NCO was careful that he did not go too far and kill his helpless prisoner as the man was still under the protection of strict Japanese military law.
The silence of the room was ominous. Two extra guards were posted at the door and Fuji continued to stare straight ahead at a point just above the officer’s head, which was bowed in examination of the papers before him. With a delicate movement the officer turned each page and peered at the report. Fuji could hear the laughter of native children penetrating the walls of the building and envied them their innocence in a time of war.
‘Leading Seaman Komine,’ the officer said, looking up from the papers before him. ‘After a thorough examination of the findings conducted by the navy
and interrogations carried out by my staff I am under the impression that you carried out your duties as directed by your superior officer, Lieutenant Kenshu in April. Evidence has come to our attention that you were to be put ashore near Port Moresby to carry out espionage activities and that you were unable to return to the I–47.’
Fuji could hardly believe his ears – the findings had found him innocent!
The officer ceased speaking and stared belligerently at Fuji on the other side of the desk. ‘I am not satisfied that you are a fit sailor to wear the rank you now have. It is the way of Bushido to die with your comrades rather than live to run for safety.’ This sudden turn of events in the dialogue caused Fuji to relive his misgivings about his fate. ‘I am therefore recommending that you be stripped of your rank and any awards or decorations that you may have received for your past services to the Emperor. You are to report immediately to naval headquarters where you will be reassigned at their discretion. That is all, Seaman Komine.’
So he was to live – but in a state of dishonour for having the instinct to survive rather than die the honourable way with his comrades. Even Fuji could see how ridiculous the finding was but remained silent. With a deep bow from the waist he saluted the officer behind the desk.
‘March out,’ the NCO bawled and when Fuji turned to do so he felt the broad hand of the police sergeant push him through the door. ‘You are a disgrace to the Emperor and your dead comrades,’ the NCO snarled. ‘If I had my way I would have had you executed for cowardice.’
Fuji stumbled into the light and continued walking away from the dreaded headquarters of the Kemptai. He was alive and would prove his worthiness to the Emperor. But he would also keep his blood oath to Keela and one day he would hunt down her executioner and kill him.
Even as Fuji was making his way to naval headquarters in Rabaul, Jack Kelly was standing in the gardens of the Port Moresby hospital clutching a brown paper wrapped parcel. The hospital had been his first stop upon his return from Australia after landing at Seven Mile airfield.
‘Sister Cain will be out soon to see you,’ a cheery-faced nurse said, popping her head out the door.
Within a couple of minutes Megan appeared in the garden.
‘Well, Sister Cain, I have brought you a little present from my trip to Australia,’ Jack said, beaming a broad smile which began to fade at the stricken expression on the pretty young woman’s face. Her eyes were puffy and red as if she had been crying for a long time. ‘What is it?’ Jack asked placing the parcel on a garden seat.
Megan burst into tears and Jack put his arms around her. ‘What is it?’ he asked again.
‘They haven’t told you yet?’ Megan sobbed against his shoulder.
‘Told me what?’
‘About Lukas. Oh God, you don’t know …’
‘I only arrived back a few hours ago,’ Jack said with a frown. ‘What about Lukas?’
‘He has been reported missing in action in the fighting around Lae a week ago. I only found out last night.’
The blood drained from Jack’s face and he thought that he might be physically sick as he fought to stay on his feet. Only Megan clinging to him in her own desperation kept him upright. ‘He can’t be MIA,’ Jack whispered. ‘He is my only reason to live.’
‘Don’t say that, Jack,’ Megan implored when she recognised the total despair in his voice. ‘Don’t do anything stupid. You must cope, for a man we both love. I refuse to believe Lukas is dead.’
‘It can’t be,’ Jack mumbled, knowing that to be listed as MIA was as good as being dead. ‘I wasn’t away that long. I should have been with him. It’s my bloody fault. He was the first and last of my body and soul.’
Megan detached herself from the arms of the man who might have been her father-in-law. ‘Don’t think that. He is missing – not dead – and he loved you more than anyone. I know that he would have wanted you to go on despite everything.’
‘I think I need time to be alone,’ Jack said softly, and sat down on the garden seat beside the parcel.
‘Promise me that you will do nothing stupid,’ Megan demanded gently. ‘Promise me.’
Jack glanced up at her blankly and did not answer. Tears rolled down his cheeks but there was no sound of sobbing. The tough soldier of two wars had lost so many from his life. What was it that a friend had once said when philosophising on the nature of war and peace? ‘In peace, sons bury fathers. In war, fathers bury sons.’
So it was for Jack Kelly except that he did not even have the privilege of burying Lukas and saying some words of closure over his grave.
Megan respected Jack’s wish, leaving him alone in the garden, a tiny sea of tranquillity in a town otherwise ravaged by war.
‘Sister Johnson,’ Megan said re-entering the hospital ward. ‘I want you to take over for my rounds. I have something that I must do, and please inform Matron Cary that I will be away for a couple of hours.’
Sister Johnson did not ask why Megan was taking her sudden leave but she was aware that her friend had lost a man she loved.
‘Take all the time you want, Meg,’ Sister Johnson said, placing her hand gently on Megan’s shoulder. ‘I can cover for you.’
Megan thanked her and hurried away, praying that the one she sought would still be in Port Moresby. Her mission could not bring back Lukas but it might save his father. From what Megan could see, Jack had all the signs of a man who had given up on life. Megan knew such men well, having nursed their war-broken bodies and minds day in and day out. Alone and in despair it would be so easy for them to end the pain.
‘Mr Kelly?’ a voice asked and Jack took his hands from his face to look up at the young woman standing over him. Where Megan was pretty this young woman was strikingly beautiful.
‘We should have met earlier but events seem to have conspired to keep us apart until now,’ she said uncertainly.
‘Erika?’ Jack half-whispered as he took in the full effect of the woman standing before him in her fatigue trousers and jacket. It was as if he was seeing a ghost from his past.
‘My name is not Erika,’ she replied. ‘My name is Ilsa and my stepfather was Gerhardt Stahl. My mother is Erika Mann, who you knew.’ Ilsa appeared to hesitate and looked away before returning her attention to Jack once again. ‘I have learned some time ago that you are in fact my real father. Both my mother and my stepfather, before he died, have confirmed this to be true.’
Jack looked beyond Ilsa to see Megan standing at the doorway to the hospital. Her arms were crossed across her breasts and she nodded to Jack. Her gesture said so many things and one of them was to go ahead and speak with this, his daughter, who was the result of the union with the woman Jack had once loved so much and yet had hurt him with her betrayal. ‘You look so much like how I remember your mother,’ Jack said in an awed voice, rising to his feet and attempting to take in the stunning revelation.
‘When I was a little girl, and my mother was angry at me, she would say I was just like my father,’ Ilsa said softly. ‘She did not mean my stepfather, who I loved – and still continue to love very much. It was from my stepfather that I was told of the man my mother would make references to. She was talking about you.’
Jack continued to stare into Ilsa’s face, searching. ‘Your eyes,’ he said. ‘They are so much like Lukas’.’
Ilsa bowed her head. ‘I have been told of your … my half-brother being listed as missing in action,’ Ilsa said quietly. ‘I was fortunate enough to have met him briefly.’
‘How is it that you are my daughter?’ Jack queried in a stunned voice. ‘I …’ he faltered and noticed Megan step forward.
‘Ilsa is your daughter, Jack,’ she said. ‘I have known for a while and hoped that you two would meet before you flew out for Australia but I think now is a good time. Maybe it is God’s way of attempting to give you something for what you think that you have lost.’
‘I …’ Jack continued and faltered again. He was lost for words.
Ilsa felt a
sudden wave of sympathy for this man who was in fact almost a total stranger to her, and felt guilty for not revealing her identity to him when she visited the hospital earlier. ‘Mr Kelly, please forgive me,’ she said bursting into tears.
‘Forgive you for what?’ Jack asked gently when he saw his daughter’s distress.
‘I don’t know,’ Ilsa said, tugging at a handkerchief from her pocket.
Jack placed his arms protectively around the young woman. ‘Forgive you for being a beautiful young woman any man would be proud to call his daughter?’ he asked.
Megan smiled sadly and sighed. The hand of man takes and the grace of God gives, she thought, turning to return to the young men of her ward who now needed her hand to nurse them back to health. Why was it necessary for men to resort to war when nothing good came from its consequences, she thought angrily. It was a question to which no man could give her an adequate answer.
When Jack left, Megan opened the parcel he had brought to her. She held up the exquisitely stitched silk wedding dress with its accompanying veil and burst into tears. ‘Oh Lukas, I will wear this for you one day,’ she sobbed softly, crushing the dress to her breast. ‘You are not dead,’ she said fiercely. ‘I know that you are somewhere out there alive and will return to me.’
FORTY
The waiting was always the worst. Captain Karl Mann of the Independent Commando Company had deployed his team of eight men into their ambush positions alongside the winding dirt track that led up to the jungle-covered hills west of Lae. He had chosen the ambush location after a careful reconnaissance of the area earlier. It was a mere two miles from a Japanese encampment, which was virtually right under their very noses. Now it was only a matter of waiting for the Japanese truck that had been reported by local intelligence sources as being due this day. The truck was taking a section of soldiers to reinforce the outpost the enemy had established as a jumping-off point in their search for Australian troops operating in the mountains.