We turned inland after three hours of uneventful travel, flew along a river, and reached our destination a few minutes later. The airstrip was marked by lanterns placed along its perimeter, and Chin brought the plane to the ground directly between them. The landing was smooth and precise, and we hummed along the runway for forty yards before coming to a halt. Chin shut down the engine.
We were greeted by a man with a broad chest, muscled upper arms and a battered face like a boxer that lost more fights than he won. Completing the image of a pugilist was a gold front tooth that sparkled when reflecting light and a jagged scar above his right eye. But even though his image suggested violence, his warm eyes and broad smile did not.
"Hello, Thomas. And Chin,” the man called cheerfully in accented English. “It’s good to see you. I’ve been waiting for you.”
The airstrip was surrounded by jungle, trees and shrubs tightly woven to form a canopy that climbed to the mountains in the distance. I saw a monkey watching us curiously before scrambling across the branches and disappearing from sight. On the far side of the strip where the plane had entered, we could see the river, tranquil and reflective of the setting sun, a weathered fishing boat anchored by the distant shore.
Thomas made the introductions, pointing to each of us in turn. "Lady Jane Carrington Smythe and George Adams. This is William Van der Meer, a stubborn Dutchman and a close friend. He’s been kind enough to offer us his facilities."
We thanked Van der Meer for his hospitality.
"I hope you’ll spend the night," he offered. "It's been a long day, and I'm sure you're tired. You can continue in the morning."
“We should really fly in darkness to avoid the Japanese,” Thomas said.
Van der Meer arched an eyebrow. "Then leave before dawn. Rest for an evening."
Thomas glanced at Lady Jane and me. “Do you mind if we stay?”
“No, not at all,” she said.
“Whatever you decide is fine with me,” I said. “Then come relax at the house. My men will service the plane and unload the cargo,” Van der Meer said. He motioned to two Sumatrans, dark haired men in workman’s clothes, who moved towards the plane.
Chin gave directions to the workmen and showed them the cargo to unload. I watched while they rolled large metal drums of petrol towards the aircraft. They prepared a hand pump that would be used to transfer the fuel. It was apparent they had performed the operation many times.
We walked down a slender path chiseled into the underbrush, that wound past the river. Van der Meer told us we had landed at a rubber plantation which he ran for a Dutch consortium. The airstrip, a regular stop on Chin's cargo route, was part of the facility.
The residence was a stylish home built from native timber with a raised rectangular roof in the center to collect the heat and wide, sweeping rooflines that ran from it to disperse the rains. A broad veranda dressed the length of the residence, supported by sturdy, hand-carved columns. Although the exterior was clearly Sumatran in design, the interior showed tastes of Europe. The parlor was finished in Belgian wallpaper, green and gold accented by ornate moldings painted a bright white, while the surrounding rooms were more traditional with walls of teak or mahogany paneling. I glanced into a room off the entrance to the parlor and saw that it was a small chapel. I made a note to myself to visit it later.
Van der Meer, a widower with no children, directed us to the parlor, made sure we were comfortable, and then had a maid serve us tea and biscuits while dinner was prepared. Although exhausted, we were relieved and excited to have escaped Singapore and were anxious to talk about it.
“With Singapore surrounded they have no choice but surrender,” Van der Meer said as we sipped our tea. “It’s surprising. The Japanese are outnumbered by three to one.”
I looked at him strangely. He recited the same troop strengths that Thomas had. I didn’t understand how the proprietor of a rubber plantation would know such detailed military information. I also noticed that Thomas and Chin seemed to defer to him both in conversation and mannerisms. The relationship spanned more than cargo deliveries, but I didn’t know to what.
“Yes, it’s true,” Thomas agreed. “The Royal Air Force evacuated with all their planes. That tells me the end is near. I think the Allies were convinced of defeat before they even got to Singapore.”
Van der Meer turned to Lady Jane. “You must be relieved to have escaped.”
“I am,” she said. “It got worse each day. I arrived on a transport ship the same day as George. If I’d had any idea of the danger, I never would have come. It was horrible. The death and destruction. I have no desire to live through that again.”
Van der Meer glanced furtively at Thomas. “Hopefully you won’t have to. But Batavia may not be much safer.”
“Have you and Thomas known each other long?” I asked, interrupting the discussion about Singapore.
Van der Meer sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. “Oh, yes. It seems like forever, doesn’t it, Thomas?”
Thomas chuckled. “That’s because it has been. We knew each other in Europe. A whole lifetime ago. And Africa.”
“And Shanghai,” Van der Meer added quietly, almost in a whisper.
A look of sadness and pain draped Thomas’s face, unexpected and unexplained. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes tightly, and turned away.
“I don’t think there’s anything about Thomas that I don’t know,” Van der Meer said loudly, changing the direction of the conversation.
Thomas looked at him, the sadness disappearing, and smiled. “But there’s nothing about me that you would ever tell.”
“What an interesting friendship,” I said. “How is it that you’ve followed each other around the world?”
The maid entered and nodded to Van der Meer. He stood and motioned to the dining room.
“Dinner is served,” he said, ignoring my question.
Our meal consisted of fish steaks, bathed in tomato, red bell pepper and a curry sauce accented with ginger. It was a local recipe and, although a bit spicy, it was quite good. Accompanied by bananas and coconut slices, the meal was memorable.
The war dominated the discussion. Throughout dinner, Thomas and Chin described military activities in the region, while Lady Jane discussed defense preparations in India. I added some personal experiences from London, but I found the interaction between Thomas and Van der Meer to be more interesting. Their friendship had spanned a lifetime and three continents.
As the conversation continued, I studied our host.
What drove someone to leave the Netherlands to carve a rubber plantation out of the jungle a half a world away? I suspected he was practical, hardworking, and trustworthy. He seemed to have integrity and principles; he might be the type of person you could trust with your secrets. Or your life. But maybe not. He was difficult to read.
After dinner we spent a few hours in Van der Meer’s study, admiring the shelves of leather-bound books. Lady Jane was mesmerized, removing volume after volume from the shelves and thumbing through them. Thomas, Chin, and Van der Meer reviewed a large map of the region that was sprawled across a desk. They discussed the war, including regions the Japanese occupied or threatened, and they provided opinions on what was next. I watched them curiously; the conversation was a lesson in military strategy. Not a common topic for three old friends. They talked until we retired several hours later around midnight.
Our sleeping quarters were adequate; the house had several spare bedrooms. We awoke at 4 a.m. and prepared to depart to insure the initial part of the journey would be cloaked in darkness, just in case Japanese scouts were in the area. But the farther we got from Singapore, the safer we were.
“We’re staying at the Hotel Duncan,” Thomas said as we walked to the airstrip.
“I know the place,” Van der Meer said. “And I may decide to join you. It looks like the enemy will be here in a few weeks. They need our rubber and oil to fuel their war effort. Batavia could be next."
&n
bsp; His opinions and viewpoints were much like Thomas’s. But if he was right, that meant running away again. The Japanese would jump from Singapore to Sumatra to Java where Batavia was located. And then where? To Australia? It didn’t seem like anywhere was safe.
We said our goodbyes and prepared to depart. We climbed aboard the plane, and, after a series of pre-start checks, Chin gunned the engine to life. He guided the aircraft down the runway, pulled the throttle, and eased the plane skyward.
We headed for Batavia. Chin again flew at a low altitude, and we drifted lazily above the coast. It was a beautiful night, cloudless with a full moon, and dawn only an hour or so away.
“We’re only a few hours from Batavia,” Chin informed us.
“It is such a relief to have left Singapore,” Lady Jane said.
Thomas was pensive for a moment. “I can’t help worrying about what will happen to those we left behind.”
CHAPTER 14
The steady drone of the engine coupled with the eerie hours before dawn soon had my chin against my chest, my eyelids drooping, and I drifted off to sleep. I stirred a few times, feeling Lady Jane’s head against my shoulder, but for the most part I slept soundly.
I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep when I felt someone shaking me. “George. George, wake up.”
I opened my eyes, feeling disjointed and confused. I blinked several times and then sat up.
“You were dreaming,” Lady Jane said. “You kept thrashing about in your chair calling out for Maggie. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I said. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. “Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But we should be getting close. Who is Maggie?”
Chin and Thomas were staring anxiously into the clouds, their heads bobbing from left to right. Even though Chin guided the plane, he still looked about frantically, as did Thomas, who peered from the portholes and then the windshield.
I was alarmed by their behavior. “What’s wrong?”
“Japanese,” Thomas said ominously. “Two planes have been shadowing us for the last few minutes.”
I sat upright and looked out the porthole. I could see land on one side of the plane, white beaches with lush vegetation spreading beyond them, tiptoeing away from the water. From the other direction, just behind us, were two planes, separated from each other by only a few hundred feet. On their wings were machine-gun barrels and a white flag with the red circle in its center. They were Japanese.
“Why are they bothering us?” Lady Jane asked.
Her face was flushed, the tension obvious in her voice. “Aren’t we hundreds of miles from Singapore?”
“We’ve seen a lot of Japanese activity,” Thomas said. “Mostly ships and landing craft. They must be getting ready to invade Sumatra. It looked like they were going to leave us alone. Until a few minutes ago.”
“I’ll never be able to outrun them,” Chin warned.
Thomas kept a wary eye on the planes. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. We’re an innocent plane, flying along the coast, posing no threat to them.”
“There’s no such thing as an innocent plane in the middle of a war,” Lady Jane said. “They probably think we’re spying on them.”
I felt my heart beat faster. She was right. We were at war. No one was innocent. Everyone was either an enemy or a friend. I clutched the arms of the chair, my knuckles white.
“George, what are we going to do,” she hissed in my ear.
I could feel her breath coming in gasps. She was scared. But so was I. “They’ll watch us for a few minutes and then leave us alone,” I said, trying to calm her by displaying a confidence I didn’t feel.
“One of the planes is dropping back,” Chin said. “Thomas, can you see him?”
Thomas leaned behind Chin and looked out of the starboard porthole. “I can’t see. I think it went to a lower altitude.”
Lady Jane leaned forward. “It’s right there. Just outside my window.”
An enemy plane now flanked each of our wings.
“What are they doing?” I asked. “Will they force us to land?”
“I don’t think they’ve decided,” Thomas said warily.
My heart thumped against my chest. I couldn’t believe it. All the dangers I had faced, nine months of air raids in London, canons, and invading Japanese in Singapore, only to be killed by the enemy after I’d escaped.
Lady Jane’s face was pale, her lips stiff. Her hands clutched the armrest just as mine did. I don’t know why I did it, but I reached over and placed my hand on hers, grasping it tightly. She looked over and smiled bravely.
“They’re slowing down,” Chin said.
I looked out a porthole. The planes were dropping back, allowing the distance to grow between their planes and ours. Their noses were even with our wings, and then they slowly faded away, drifting out of sight.
“Maybe they’re leaving,” I said hopefully, even though I knew it wasn’t likely.
“I don’t think so,” Chin said. “Thomas, go to the tail and see what they’re doing.”
He undid his seat belt and climbed from the front, squeezing past Lady Jane and me on his way to the rear of the plane. Then he peered through the portholes on each side of the plane.
“The planes are directly behind us,” he said. “I think they’re going to attack.”
Seconds later we heard the discharge of machine guns and the fuselage was ripped by bullets, the holes making linear patterns across the side of the plane, piercing the wood and ricocheting around the cabin.
“Hold on!” Chin said. “I’m going to try to lose them.”
“What should we do?” Lady Jane shrieked.
I wrapped my arm around her. “Lean forward and tuck your head in your lap. I’ll protect you.”
Chin jerked the plane from left to right and rapidly changed altitude. When the aircraft ascended, Thomas tumbled about the cargo bay. He grabbed the slats on the side of the fuselage, those used to anchor cargo, and made his way to the front of the plane.
He opened the tool chest behind our seat and withdrew a machine gun. Trying to get a glimpse of the enemy, he moved to a porthole and propped it open. No good. Changing tactics, he went to another vantage point and stood poised, machine gun in hand, while he observed the skies beyond.
"I can’t get a shot at them," he hollered.
“Thomas,” I called. “What can I do? Is there another gun?”
"No,” he said. “Just stay down. Protect Lady Jane."
The plane kept climbing as Chin pulled back on the flight stick. He then changed tactics. He dove, directing the plane downward at a steep angle, plunging towards the sea. When it seemed a crash was imminent, he reversed direction. The plane arched upward.
The Japanese planes spread apart and fired from different directions. Bullets again ripped through the fuselage, tearing the plane’s belly and sides, causing air to rush in, and leaving lines of holes that traveled around the plane’s fragile skin. The firing continued, moving up the wall and shattering a porthole near Lady Jane.
She screamed as the glass sprayed her. I unstrapped myself from my seat and leaned on top of her, sheltering her body with mine. “Be still,” I said. “It’ll be over soon.” She bolted upright, not interested in protection, and almost knocked me to the floor. “There’s got to be another gun in that toolbox. I’d rather shoot than get shot at.”
“Will you get down!” Thomas ordered. “George! Keep her still.”
I wasn’t sure she was going to listen. “We just want you safe,” I explained.
Reluctantly, she sat down and leaned forward, her head on her knees. I wrapped my body around her, doing what I could to shelter her. She was warm and soft and smelled of lilacs. Her hair tickled my face.
Another burst of bullets ripped the aircraft. Some imbedded in luggage; others tore through the wall above them, shredding a hole in the side of the plane, a long tear over a foot long and several inches wide. Thomas peer
ed through the slit in the plane’s skin and stuck the machine gun barrel through the opening.
I was terrified. Bullets ricocheted around us, the sides of the plane were torn and tattered, and Chin did all he possibly could to evade the enemy. But it wasn’t working. We were outnumbered and outgunned. It was easy to envision the outcome. Our chance of survival was limited.
“Keep your head down,” I said to Lady Jane. “And everything will be all right. You’ll see. We’ll get through this. We will.”
She sat up and kissed my cheek. “George, you really are the strongest man I know.”
Thomas started shooting. I wasn’t sure how effective the machine gun would be against another plane, but it was all we had. He stood, bracing himself against the wall with a cigar clenched between his teeth, firing away, spraying the barrel the full length of the tear in the fuselage.
Another barrage of bullets splintered the cargo bay door, hammering a pattern along one jamb and across the top. The wood buckled, and with another rush of air it was torn from its hinges. It fluttered through the clouds on its way to the ocean.
Thomas moved to the open door and leaned out, holding the frame with one hand and the gun with the other. He planted his feet and fired.
“Hold the plane steady, Chin,” he shouted. “Let me get a shot at them.”
He fired repeatedly at the plane closest to us, aiming at the cockpit. Bullets riddled the nose and propeller, finally shattering the plane’s windshield.
I couldn’t believe he was battling a modern aircraft with a machine gun. I was stunned, impressed by his bravery, his courage, and the lack of concern for his own life. He seemed more interested in killing the enemy than surviving. He continued with defiance and a lust for revenge and hatred that was both astonishing and admirable.
"I think I got him!"
He kept firing. Seconds later, the plane lost control and descended towards the sea. The pilot was slumped forward, dead or dying, the target of Thomas’s bullets.
I knew the shots hit their target by pure luck. And so did he. Now the element of surprise was gone. The second pilot would take us much more seriously. Even though the danger had been halved, it provided no relief. I glanced at Thomas, brave and bold, and saw another side of the man. It was one more missing piece to an incomplete puzzle.
To Parts Unknown Page 10