Coasts of Cape York

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Coasts of Cape York Page 12

by Christopher Cummings


  “Are you coming to our Passing-Out Parade this evening?” he asked.

  Stephen nodded. “You bet,” he replied. “It will be very entertaining.”

  Willy suspected that he was being teased but said thanks. He then hurried home and settled to polishing his parade boots. Next he carefully ironed his uniform. After a shower and dinner he dressed with particular care, pulling the sides of his shirt around into small folds to make both front and back appear smooth. The small single-bladed propeller badge that proclaimed him to have done a full year of training was pinned to his right sleeve. That done he stood in front of the mirror and admired himself, adjusting the angle of his cloth cap to see which he liked best. Then he set it at the regulation angle and did a few practice salutes. ‘I hope nothing goes wrong,’ he thought, aware that he was feeling very nervous.

  But it wasn’t the worry that someone might muck up the drill that caused Willy the greatest anxiety when he arrived at the Air Cadet depot that evening. It was the presence of Mr Jemmerling. Willy saw him almost as soon as he arrived. Mr Jemmerling was standing over to one side with another man, a solid looking, middle-aged man with close cropped grey hair.

  ‘What is he doing here?’ Willy wondered as he made his way across to where the other cadets were forming up.

  As he joined Stick and Noddy Stick pointed towards Mr Jemmerling and said, “There’s that Jammything bloke. I wonder why he is here?”

  “Don’t know, but it is a worry,” Willy replied. “I suppose he wants to pump us for more information so we hade better be careful what we say.”

  “Pump who for what?” Marjorie asked as she pushed through to stand beside Willy. She said it with a mischievous grin and the innuendo caused Willy’s mind to immediately speculate on what he would like to be doing with her.

  The loud voice of the WOD ended such thoughts. The cadets were formed up in one single line, tallest on the right and shortest on the left. They were then numbered and formed up in three ranks. This placed Willy in the front rank of the flight only three from the right marker. The cadets were then reminded of the sequence of the parade.

  The parade was on the small bitumen parade ground in front of the hut. The guests were seated on chairs placed along the front of the hut. While standing in ranks waiting to march on from the side Willy scanned the crowd. He checked that Mr Jemmerling was still there but actually took comfort from his presence. ‘That means he hasn’t got enough information yet,’ he thought.

  But it was actually Barbara that Willy was looking for. He saw a number of army cadets but did not see any sign of her. Graham, Peter and Stephen he identified and that put him on his mettle. ‘We must do well,’ he told himself, ‘or they will criticize every little thing.’

  White uniforms appeared in the lamplight and Willy saw Andrew and Carmen, plus several other navy cadets. One of their officers took his place among the seated VIPs in the front row, his white dress uniform a splash of brightness. ‘And there is Captain Conkey talking to the Mayor,’ Willy noted, seeing the portly shape of the army cadet OC in his ceremonial uniform.

  Willy was curiously moved by knowing that the people from the other cadet forces were present. Somehow it made things more complete and gave him a pleasant feeling of tension. ‘We will show them how drill should be done,’ he vowed. But it was a pity that Barbara was not one of them.

  His mother and father were both there, along with his brother Lloyd, but their presence did not have the same effect. That was just nice, making him feel they cared. ‘I am so lucky to have such great parents,’ he told himself.

  At 1930 hours the parade began. It was a hot, sultry night but a breeze coming in from the sea and across the airport kept it reasonably cool. As far as Willy could tell the parade went without a single hitch. He stood tall and erect, chest out with pride, his eyes taking everything in. The marching on of the banner party caused him another bout of pride. ‘I will do that one day,’ he vowed as he watched the banner carrier slow march across the front of the parade.

  He also admired the superb drill of the CUOs and sergeants. Just watching the squadron command group all move in flawless unison as they turned and stood at ease made him glow with ambition. Seeing his hero, Cadet Under-Officer Mathieson, saluting with his sword filled Willy with a burning desire to reach that rank. ‘That will be me when I am in Year 12,’ Willy told himself.

  The regional Wing Commander was the Inspecting Officer and he was received with the appropriate salutes and then conducted the inspection. As he went past the wing commander briefly met Willy’s eyes but did not stop to speak to him, instead selecting Marjorie, who stood in the centre of the front rank. The inspection over the squadron turned to the right to march past.

  After the march past and advance in review order came the awards. To his own surprise Willy heard his name called out as the winner of the Service Knowledge prize for gaining the highest marks in the exams conducted a few weeks earlier. For a second he stood there, not quite sure that he had heard correctly. Then he stamped to attention and stepped smartly out of the ranks before marching across the bitumen. As he did he concentrated on trying to make his marching as perfect as he could, haunted by the memories of seeing other cadets make a hash of that apparently simple skill. It made him very self conscious and he felt very stiff and gawky but at least managed to keep his arms and legs synchronized.

  ‘To ‘dodo’ march with the army cadets watching will just be the greatest shame job!’ he thought. And they were watching. Even as he stamped to a halt and flung his right arm up in salute he glimpsed their grinning faces at the rear of the crowd. ‘Mum and Dad are watching too,’ he thought.

  The wing commander returned the salute, then shook his hand and handed him a small trophy- a shiny gold coloured aeroplane mounted on a small wooden base with an inscription on it. Camera flashes flickered and Willy was dimly aware of his mother standing to one side, camera in hand. Then he stepped back, saluted, turned left with his best turn at the halt, then marched over to hand the trophy to Pilot Officer Lowe. Then he marched proudly back to his place in the ranks while the crowd clapped.

  When the parade was over Marjorie was the first person to congratulate him. She rushed up to him and flung her arms around his neck. “Oh Willy! I am so proud of you!” she cried before kissing him. That both worried and embarrassed Willy but nobody seemed to think it odd or even notice. Then it was his mother’s turn so he had an excuse to disentangle Marjorie’s arms. His father shook his hand and then the army cadets arrived, smiling with apparently genuine pleasure to do the same.

  It was a moment of real satisfaction for Willy, tempered only by the niggling anxiety of noting Mr Jemmerling watching him from a distance. ‘Why is he looking at me?’ he wondered. It was a worry.

  CHAPTER 10

  WORRY

  On Saturday morning Willy sat in his room carefully painting the pieces of a plastic kit model P40 fighter when he heard voices at the front door. As they sounded like his parents talking to an adult he just went on with his painting. Footsteps in the corridor made him look around, paint brush poised.

  It was his father. “A visitor for you Willy,” he said.

  Mystified Willy wiped the brush and placed it in the small bottle of thinner that he kept for cleaning paint brushes. After quickly placing the lid back on the small can of ‘Humbrol’ paint he made his way out to the lounge room. As he reached it he almost stopped in surprise and he was sure his mouth fell open. Seated in a lounge chair talking to his mother was Mr Jemmerling!

  As Willy crossed the room Mr Jemmerling stood up and held out his hand. “Hello, young William,” he said.

  Being called William was something Willy did not like at the best of times but to have ‘young’ added to it irritated him even more. Despite that he managed to fix a smile to his face and held out his hand. Whatever he felt he knew his parents expected good manners. “Hello, Mr Jemmerling. This is a surprise,” he replied.

  Willy’s father said, �
��Mr Jemmerling wanted to ask you about the aircraft wrecks you and your friends are looking for.”

  That statement almost made Willy gasp. He lowered himself into a chair, his mind racing at how to answer. After a moment he met Mr Jemmerling’s eyes and shook his head, then said, “That is interesting sir, but I am very sorry. I promised not to talk about them.”

  Mr Jemmerling nodded and kept on smiling but Willy saw his eyes harden. Mr Jemmerling then said, “That is a pity. I thought we might be able to help each other. You know where the wrecks are and I have the means to find and recover them. I thought that could be a mutually advantageous arrangement.”

  Willy’s heart was beating fast now. He wasn’t scared, but he didn’t want an embarrassing scene either. Again he shook his head before saying, “That is probably right sir, but, as I said, I promised.”

  “Then you must keep your promise,” Mr Jemmerling replied. He said it so smoothly and with so little facial expression that Willy was unable to tell if he was sincere or not. By then his suspicious mind was asking how Mr Jemmerling knew his address. Then he shrugged. ‘He could have just looked it up in the phone book, if he knew that both Mum and Dad are doctors, that is.’ It did not seem all that hard to find out but it bothered Willy that this stranger had made that effort. ‘Am I being spied on?’ he wondered.

  Another worrying thought came to Willy. He turned to his parents and said, “Mum, Dad, please don’t tell him anything. He is Mr Beck’s enemy.”

  Mr Jemmerling kept his smile but held his hands up in mock horror. “Oh, that’s a bit harsh. A rival certainly, but not an enemy. I have great respect for Syd Beck.”

  Willy’s mother looked anxious. “I’m sure Willy meant no offence.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause during which Mr Jemmerling nodded and kept smiling.

  For something to say Willy deliberately changed the subject, saying to his parents, “Mr Jemmerling owns a ‘Catalina’ amphibian too. We had a look through it at Air Cadets.”

  Mr Jemmerling smiled again and nodded. “I do indeed. It is a fully-restored PBY 5 A. It is my favourite.” He described the aircraft to Willy’s parents, mentioning how much it cost to have it restored to flyable condition.

  Willy nodded, wondering just how rich Mr Jemmerling was and if he would offer him a bribe. He nerved himself to resist, just in case. For something to say he asked, “Where is it now?”

  “Still parked at the airport. I use it for all my long trips,” Mr Jemmerling replied.

  “Are you a pilot sir?” Willy asked, pleased that the change of subject seemed to have worked.

  “No. I employ my own, a chap named Johnson,” Mr Jemmerling answered. Then he shook Willy by saying, “I spoke to Syd Beck on the telephone this afternoon and he said that you cadets were part of his team.”

  “Did he?” Willy replied, managing to keep the surprise out of his voice and off his face.

  “He did,” Mr Jemmerling said, his face breaking into another smile. “And he wouldn’t tell me what he was looking for either. Well, never mind. I will keep looking and maybe, just maybe, I will beat you to it. It seems we are to be rivals, not partners.”

  “No offence meant sir,” Willy replied.

  “None taken. The world of vintage and replica aircraft is a cut-throat, dog-eat-dog place. I wish you luck but will do my best to beat you to it,” Mr Jemmerling answered. He said this with a smile but Willy thought he detected more than a hint of irritation in his voice.

  “How do you make money doing it sir?” Willy asked.

  Mr Jemmerling gave a short laugh, then said, “You don’t mostly. I make my money in business. Aircraft are just my hobby.”

  The conversation then turned to the other aircraft in Mr Jemmerling’s collection, and of his other rivals and their museums or collections. Willy’s father and mother did most of the talking and Willy was able to sit back and recover. He felt distinct pangs of jealousy and even of regret, wondering if he had thrown away a really good opportunity to get more flights or to visit other places.

  When Mr Jemmerling described how some unscrupulous collectors would just steal pieces off parked aircraft or just rip parts off wrecks that were war graves, with no regard for the spiritual, historical or heritage value of the site Willy felt quite angry. ‘There are certainly some greedy people in the world,’ he thought, shaking his head sadly.

  Soon after that Mr Jemmerling made his farewells and left, amid much handshaking. As he drove off in a taxi Willy’s mother said, “What a fascinating man. It must be nice to be that rich.”

  “Yes,” Willy’s father agreed, then added, “I was a bit worried he might offer to pay for information.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken it Dad,” Willy replied fiercely.

  Willy’s father grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. “I know that son. That’s why I am so proud of you.”

  Hearing that made Willy glow with a deep sense of being valued and loved. But then his mother said, “But he might offer money to some of your friends and I’m not sure all of them are strong enough to resist temptation.”

  Just thinking about that made Willy feel very anxious. Into his mind sprang images of Stick, Noddy and Stephen. Just having such doubts about his friends made Willy feel bad and he considered ringing them all up to warn them. That, he decided, was a good plan, even at the risk of offending them.

  For the next hour Willy was on the phone. He called all of the friends involved in the project and found that none had been approached by Mr Jemmerling. All assured him they would not tell Mr Jemmerling anything. This was the awkward bit as Willy made no mention of what they should do if Mr Jemmerling offered money, for fear his friends feel insulted and then do it out of pique.

  Talking to Marjorie took most of the time and she suggested that they get together. That sounded like a good idea to Willy so he said, “What did you have in mind?”

  “The swimming pool? I could go with Vicki and Stick and that would keep Mum happy,” Marjorie answered.

  “That is a good idea,” Willy agreed. Even as he said it he was aware that he was perspiring in the sultry tropical heat. A dip in the pool seemed very desirable. “I will ask my Mum and ring back,” he added.

  His mother said yes so Willy phoned back and arranged to meet Marjorie that afternoon at the Tobruk Pool. Having made the arrangements Willy became very horny in anticipation. ‘We will get a chance to sneak away together,’ he thought. Imagining what he and Marjorie might then do got him even more aroused and he found he was so fidgety and restless he could not concentrate on anything very well. The plastic model was the only thing he could work on without too much distraction.

  After lunch Willy packed bathers and towel in a bag and rode his bike to the Tobruk Pool. He had often met his friends there and they had a favourite place among the garden beds. As he entered the pool grounds Willy made straight for that place, hoping to find them there. To his disappointment they were not. Worse still other people were sitting or lying there. Then Willy recognized one of them as Barbara and he was even more dismayed. She was wearing a red one-piece swimsuit and to Willy’s eyes her body looked just perfect.

  ‘Barbara! Oh no! She will see me with Marjorie and that will end any chance I have of ever winning with her,’ he thought. He turned to find another semi-private space among the garden beds but then saw Barbara looking at him. To his surprise she waved to him. He waved back and managed a grin before a wave of jealous misery swept through him. She was sitting with two other girls and three of the Year 12 boys.

  When he had selected a place about twenty metres away on the other side of a garden bed Willy seated himself side on so that he could watch Barbara without seeming to. For the next ten minutes he was filled with resentment and jealousy as he watched one of the Year12 boys rub sun cream onto Barbara’s back and even on her legs. It was obvious she had asked him to and that she did not mind him touching her.

  Marjorie arrived soon after that. With her were Vicki, Stick, Noddy, Step
hen and Stephen’s friend Betina, a Year 10 girl with freckles and glasses. They joined Willy, but not before Stephen had veered across to say hello to Barbara and Gwen Copeland. The casual way in which Stephen did this aroused more feelings of jealousy and unhappiness in Willy.

  Willy’s emotions quickly received more of a battering as Marjorie at once rushed over to hug and kiss him. In the process she pressed her bosom hard against him and quickly got him very aroused. It also got him anxious. ‘Barbara is watching,’ he noted. ‘She will think I don’t like her.’ But he did enjoy Marjorie’s touch and responded. His real worry was that she got him all horny and he was concerned lest Barbara see this.

  Marjorie added to Willy’s discomfiture by standing in front of him and peeling off her T-shirt and shorts. This revealed that she was wearing her white bikini with the red polka dots. She had often worn this before and he had been expecting it but now he felt quite disturbed. The bottom part was very small but the top was even smaller. It was just two triangles of cloth and four strings. The triangles were so small that most of her very ample breasts bulged out on all sides. To make things worse Willy noted that Marjorie was up to her usual tricks and had done up the cords so loosely that her breasts swayed and bobbled alarmingly.

  ‘Oh my God, they will fall out!’ he thought, casting anxious glances at Barbara as he did.

  Marjorie did not seem to notice and bent down in front of him to adjust her towel, presenting his adolescent eyes with a vision of trembling, swaying bosoms that made his mouth go dry and his body to stiffen up. It caused him both relief and regret when she at last lay down.

  Even then her teasing was not over. She reached behind her and undid the bow holding the back straps. That would not have been so bad if she had then lain on her front but instead she rested on her elbows, facing Willy to talk to him. In that pose her breasts were partly revealed in a very provocative way. From time to time, as she spoke to the others or laughed, she moved and allowed tantalizing glimpses, causing Willy to become even more aroused and also more concerned that Barbara might notice.

 

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