That scene he could imagine and vivid images of the dead body with its pink and purple entrails hanging out like obscene streamers made him feel upset and nauseous. ‘Oh, what a shame!’ he thought, wishing the people in charge had either refuelled the planes and sent them on before the raid, or had moved the unfortunate people ashore. But 16 flying boats! He had no idea so many were in service at the time.
He also read that an American B24 ‘Liberator’ with 33 people on board was shot out of the air during the raid, only one person surviving the crash into the sea. Again he had vivid images of seeing Jacob in the waves and he shuddered. “And two B17s, a second ‘Liberator’, a Dutch transport plane and an RAAF ‘Hudson’ also destroyed, all on the ground,” he read aloud. Then he shook his head. “What a wipe out! We obviously weren’t very well prepared.”
His interest was also sparked when he read that the Dutch plane had been carrying diamonds and that they had vanished from the wreck when the rescue teams arrived at the beach where the plane lay in the shallow water. ‘Diamonds eh? Could that be what Jacob was looking for?’ he thought. Then he shrugged and read on.
‘I wonder what type of flying boats they were?’ he thought. At the back of his mind was something he had read the previous year about the Imperial Airways flying boat routes from Britain to Australia that were set up in the 1920s and 1930s. He thought the route went via Broome but wasn’t sure. ‘I must find out more about that, and about the Japanese raid,’ he decided.
That sent him to his reference library of aircraft types and he quickly dug up the flying boat he was interested in. ‘An ‘Empire S30C’, all metal, high-wing monoplane, four engines,’ he noted. It was obviously a predecessor of the famous ‘Sunderland’. He read that they: ‘carried passengers in style, with standards taken from the leisured and spacious days of the previous century’.
‘All those planes had names starting with ‘C’. I wonder if that one they found in Darwin Harbour, the Corinthian, was one of that class?’
Still pondering flying boats Willy joined his parents in the car after morning tea. His brother Lloyd declined to come, preferring to go to a friend’s house. First they drove to Marjorie’s and collected her and Stick. They then drove up the Kuranda Range and south west along the Kennedy Highway.
Lunch was taken at Aunty Isabel’s farm near Davies Creek. That caused Willy some depressing flashbacks as both Stick and Marjorie had been at the farm the night Uncle Ted was murdered. In fact Willy had been in Marjorie’s bedroom when Uncle Ted had got up to investigate engine noises down along the creek. Remembering those horrible events made Willy feel very sad and depressed.
At 1:30pm Willy’s father drove him, plus Marjorie and Stick, to Beck’s Air Museum. This is beside the Kennedy Highway 5km south of the town of Mareeba. It is set back from the highway, separated from it by a 100m wide belt of open savannah woodland. Parked outside the front gate is a yellow painted World War 2 ‘Matilda’ tank. That didn’t particularly interest Willy but seated on it, waiting for them, were Stephen and Graham.
Dr Williams drove in and parked in the bitumen car park. Graham and Stephen walked over to join them. As he got out of the car Willy noted that Graham was smiling and looking very happy. “G’day Graham. How’d your date go?” he asked.
Graham blushed but beamed. “Good,” he replied.
“Well, what happened?” Stick queried.
Graham went even redder but was saved by Marjorie who snapped, “Don’t you tell them anything Graham.”
Stick laughed. “Come on Graham, give us the juicy details.”
Now Marjorie got angry. “It’s awful the way you boys boast about your… er.. your… er.. what you claim you did,” she said.
Stephen snorted and cried out, “Oh, and you girls never discuss the boys you went out with of course!”
“I.. We.. You..” Marjorie spluttered.
She was saved by Dr Williams who said mildly, “Enough of that. A gentleman never tells. Now let’s go.”
To the left of the small car park was the museum. This was housed in a huge shed with a rectangular base and semi-circular ‘igloo’ type roof. Attached to it is a smaller and newer concrete block shed which contains the office and a huge collection of models and other exhibits. The group made their way to the ticket office inside the front gate and were met by the owner, Mr Syd Beck, and his son Norman. Mr Beck, a red-faced elderly man, was expecting them and was very pleased to show them around. “Is there anything in particular you want to see?” he asked, after being reminded they had all been there before.
“The ‘Airacobra’,” Willy answered.
Mr Beck led them out into the large semi-circular hangar and past other aircraft including a ‘Neptune’, a ‘Sea Venom’, and a ‘Canberra’ and also several armoured vehicles and lots of aircraft engines and propellers to the ‘Airacobra’.
For nearly ten minutes Willy studied the plane and asked Mr Beck questions. Knowing that the aircraft was the ‘real thing’ impressed him and he drank in the details. The Airacobra was painted a drab olive green but what really took Willy’s interest was seeing the small Japanese flags painted just below the cockpit. ‘This plane actually fought to defend Australia,’ he mused. For a few seconds he wondered if he would ever be good enough to fly a fighter in his country’s service.
‘If I have to I will,’ he determined, but not without niggling doubts about his ability and courage. ‘I hope I am good enough if I am put to the test,’ he thought.
In his notebook he jotted down the main details: Bell P-39 Airacobra serial number AC 41- 6951; armed with one 37mm cannon firing through the nose, plus 2 X .50 cal. machine guns and 4 X .30 cal. machine guns. Powered by a 1,325 hp Allison V12 engine; top speed about 380 mph.
Willy also noted the details of who flew the plane: an American 2LT named Charles Faletta had been the pilot when the plane ‘did its stuff’. 2LT Faletta had belonged to the US 36th Squadron but had been on exchange with the RAAF 75th Squadron at Port Moresby when he had gone into action for the first time. He shot down three Japanese planes: two ‘Betty’ twin-engine bombers and one ‘Zero’ Fighter.
After studying the aircraft from all angles Willy said, “Mr Beck, do you have any information on the others that crash landed on Cape York Peninsula?”
“I certainly do,” Mr Beck answered helpfully. He led them back to the front office, which also housed a very large collection of extremely well put together models and a small library. The models were mostly plastic kits on 1:72 or 1:35 scale but they were so well done they really aroused Willy’s interest and even jealousy.
‘They are much better done than most of mine,’ he thought, noting the care in assembling and the fine details in the painting and decals. He found himself torn between wanting to look at all the models and the desire to learn about the crashed ‘Airacobras’.
“There are some of these still where they crashed aren’t there?” he asked.
“Yes there are,” Mr Beck answered. He then named four places where he knew of wrecks.
Stephen looked up from a book he was leafing through. “There are a few other wrecks up there aren’t there, like P40 ‘Kittyhawks’ and some ‘Beauforts’ or ‘Beaufighters’?”
“Yes. I know where there is a ‘Kittyhawk’ in quite good condition and also most of a ‘Beaufighter’,” Mr Beck answered.
Stephen frowned. “If you know where they are why don’t you go and get them?” he asked.
Mr Beck laughed. “It’s called money. And you need permission, permits and so on. They are in very inaccessible places and you can’t get a truck in to them. It means either hiring a big helicopter, or a barge of some sort.”
“My dad owns a landing barge,” Graham said.
“Does he now? And who is your dad?” Mr Beck asked, obviously interested.
“Bert Kirk, of NQ Marine Contractors,” Graham answered. “He owns three ships and a big dumb lighter.”
“Is that like a cigarette lighter?” Stephen
quipped.
Graham obviously wasn’t amused and gave him a look suggesting he was dumb. “No, a dumb lighter is a barge that has no engines. It has to be towed. Dad uses it to move oil drums and things like that,” he explained.
Mr Beck nodded but then shook his head. “I can’t afford to hire ships. And anyway, I would also need men to help with the work.”
“We could do that,” Stephen offered. “The school holidays are only a few weeks away. We could go on a trip to help you find these things and then provide you with some volunteer labour.”
Mr Beck looked interested but made a wry face. “You and who else?” he asked. “It would take half a dozen at least.”
Stephen looked around at the group. “Us?” he suggested.
Willy found himself glowing with excitement at the idea. ‘What a great idea for the holidays!’ he thought. Up till now they had loomed as nothing much, except for the 9 day cadet promotion course at Garbutt RAAF base in late January. ‘And only if I am selected!’ Now he liked this idea. He turned to his father. “Could I do that Dad?” he asked.
Willy’s father rubbed his chin, then nodded. “I suppose so. It would depend on who else was going and how the expedition was organized.”
Now that there was a glimmer of hope Willy turned to Graham. “Can you come Graham?”
Graham gave a wry smile. “I will be at sea on dad’s ships anyway, at least after Christmas. It would depend on when and where.”
“Would your dad help with the shipping?” Stephen asked. He was obviously keen on the idea.
“I don’t know. I would have to ask,” Graham answered.
Mr Beck now spoke. “I can cover some cost, but not a great deal. I might be able to pay freight and the cost of the day or so lost from a voyage while we load a plane.”
“Whereabouts are these planes Mr Beck?” Graham asked.
Mr Beck shook his head. “Ah, that is secret.”
“Why?” Stick asked.
Mr Beck laughed. “Because there are a dozen other collectors and museums in Australia, all thirsting to get their hands on some original aircraft, even on parts. And there are lots of overseas collectors. We are talking big money here.”
That was a revelation to Willy. He said, “We won’t tell.”
Mr Beck looked thoughtful. “Well, I suppose if you are going to volunteer to help.” He reluctantly reached down and pulled an air chart of Cape York Peninsula from under the counter. This was spread on the desk and he pointed to two locations. “There is a P40 ‘Kittyhawk’ here,” he said, “and a ‘Beaufighter’ further north, up here near Cape Sidmouth.”
The friends bent to study the chart. Willy noted that the ‘Beaufighter’ was on the shore almost opposite where the ‘Catalina’ had turned back to begin its search. Once again he experienced vivid flashbacks of the rescue and the dead body.
Graham studied the chart and then nodded. “That is right beside the main shipping route. I might be able to persuade Dad to pull up for a few hours.”
Mr Beck nodded. “Please try. I have the permits to remove the wrecks, and the permits to go onto Aboriginal land. The longer I leave this the more likely some rival collector will learn about them and snap them up.”
“So we will organize an expedition during the holidays then,” Willy stated, looking around at his friends for agreement. Now he was seized by the desire to find an aircraft wreck. He pointed on the chart and said, “Which wreck is the best one to try for first?”
Mr Beck pointed to the shore of Bathurst Bay, just west of Cape Melville. “This one, the ‘Kittyhawk’. The only real snag is that it is almost two kilometres inland, with a lot of scrub between it and the sea. The ‘Beaufighter’ is right on the beach.”
Stephen studied the map and then said, “If it is right on the beach, how come some one else hasn’t found it?”
“Because it is in among some low sand dunes, and a few bushes have grown up to hide it. It was only luck that I found part of the tail poking out of the sand,” Mr Beck replied.
“How did you know where to look?” Willy asked.
“I read the pilot’s report. He wasn’t sure where he had landed and he walked along the coast for days before some Aborigines found him and took him to Coen. I worked out the general area and then hired a plane and flew over. That didn’t show me anything so Norman and I went walking with metal detectors. Took about two weeks,” Mr Beck explained.
Stephen chuckled and took off his glasses to wipe them. “What if we shift tons of sand and find it is all rusted away? We would look silly then!”
Mr Beck smiled and shook his head. “It is all there, a complete ‘Beaufighter’. We dug it out to check, then buried it again. Took us three whole days. But this time we covered it with canvas tarpaulins to help protect it from the sand and salt.”
“So we need some fit people and three days of time,” Willy suggested.
“And a ship or barge,” Stephen added.
Graham now looked doubtful. “Even then it might not be possible. What is the shore like Mr Beck? How deep is the water off shore and are there any rocks or reefs?”
“I don’t know. It looked like an ordinary beach to me,” Mr Beck answered.
Graham added to Willy’s concern by adding, “It would depend on the weather too. Any sort of surf and it might not be possible to get a landing craft onto the beach safely.”
“Oh Graham! Stop being such a Gloomy Jimmy!” Stephen cried.
“Just trying to help by being realistic,” Graham replied, adding, “And there is the tide too, don’t forget. That would determine the best time to make the attempt.”
Mr Beck looked very thoughtful but Willy was now determined. He said, “We will look up the tide tables and you can work out a suitable time. Then we will go as soon as we can arrange a ship.”
Willy agreed. “We will work it all out and then come up again next weekend for a planning conference to get things organized,” he said.
“Now steady on young Willy,” his father said. “There are adults to consult yet. Your mother might not approve.”
“Aw Dad! If she doesn’t then I will try to make another airship,” Willy replied.
Dr Williams laughed, then said, “No emotional blackmail thank you, and no underhand deviousness either. We will see.”
Graham now shook his head. “I might be busy next weekend,” he said.
“Oh Graham give it a break!” Stephen snorted. “She can live without seeing you for one weekend.”
Graham sniffed and muttered but went very red, confirming Willy’s suspicions that Stephen was referring to Carol from Castor. They left it like that. Willy travelled home snuggled up with Marjorie in the back seat, his mind divided between her physical charms and the hope that they could organize an expedition to recover a real plane wreck.
CHAPTER 8
PLANS
The moment he arrived home Willy put the idea of the expedition to his mother. She listened and then raised an eyebrow to her husband, who turned to Willy and said, “You trot along and do your homework while we talk it over.”
Willy withdrew to his room, but he felt distinctly hopeful, if only from the tone of his father’s voice. He was right. His mother said yes, as long as it was properly organized and supervised by responsible adults. It was agreed that both Mr Beck and Captain Kirk were responsible adults. ‘Now I hope Graham can persuade his dad,’ Willy thought. He settled to his study. That night he slept well, except for a dream in which he and Marjorie were caught by Marjorie’s mother just as they were about to be very naughty on a beach.
Monday morning found Willy back at school with plans to visit the town library that afternoon, the school library being almost bare of information on either World War 2 in North Queensland or on aircraft wrecks. Once at school he sought out his friends. The one he really wanted to see was Graham and he was relieved to find him sitting with his mates of the Hiking Team in their usual place.
After the usual causal greetings Willy
asked if there was any chance that Graham’s father could help. To his relief Graham nodded and said, “Yeah. I spoke to dad last night on the radio. He said it would depend on the ship’s schedules but he might be able to see his way clear to help. What really helps is that it won’t take any ship far out of its normal route.”
On hearing that Willy felt a stab of anxiety. “You didn’t say where the wrecks are, not over the radio?” he asked.
“No. I’m not that silly Willy. We not only learn radio security in the Army Cadets, we actually practise it,” Graham replied.
Willy laughed with relief, then could not resist a jibe. “So how come we were able to monitor all your radio traffic and track all your patrols on that last field exercise, the one that WE won?”
This brought a chorus of cries and denials from the army cadets. Willy could only chuckle. It was not often that he was able to get one up on them and he relished the small victory. He asked, “So, who would like to come on this expedition? Can you come Graham?”
Graham gave a rueful smile. “If it is dad’s ship I will probably be press-ganged into being aboard anyway,” he answered.
“Does your mum agree?” Willy asked.
Graham laughed. “’Only the good die young,’ she said. Anyway, it’s normal for us kids to help out on the ships during school holidays.”
“Pete?”
Peter shook his head. “I’d love to, but I have to go and spend this Christmas with my dad in South Australia.”
There was a short, embarrassed silence. Willy knew that Peter’s parents were separated and felt very sorry for him. Having his own two very loving parents in the same house seemed even more special to him. He muttered an answer and turned to Stephen. “What about you Steve?”
Coasts of Cape York Page 9