Secret in the Clouds

by Christopher Cummings

  “The paint has all gone,” Graham said, gently stroking the metal along the outline where the shape of the sinister symbol still showed. As he did this Stephen felt as though ice had flowed into his veins and he shivered. The expression ‘someone walked over my grave’ flitted through his mind to distress him even more. He shook his head in awe of this tangible evidence to that evil and monstrous regime.

  The fin was photographed, Graham using a flash. Then Stephen showed him the second find. It was badly twisted but there was no doubting what it was- a float.

  “A floatplane!” Graham cried. “You were right. Off a ship of some sort.”

  The two boys discussed what ship and what it might have been doing in the Coral Sea while they walked around, photographing the wreck from every angle. “Take as many photos as you can Graham,” Stephen instructed.

  “You should get yourself another camera Steve,” Graham said, as he carefully set up a shot of the dead pilot’s skull.

  Stephen gave a wry smile. “No thanks!” he replied, remembering the trouble he had been in a couple of years earlier over photos he had taken. Graham gave a short, mirthless laugh, before moving to get another shot.

  As he took it Stephen tensed, then gripped Graham’s arm “Listen!”

  Graham straightened up then said, “Helicopter. We’d better get up on the ridge top where they can see us.”

  “You go. I’ll just collect my pack and webbing,” Stephen replied. He hurried off through the jungle.

  CHAPTER 5

  WHAT DO WE DO NEXT ?

  When Stephen joined Graham up on the open crest line he dropped his pack and slumped onto it, hugging his jacket tightly around himself. The wind was still sweeping up over the mountain side and cloud swirled and enveloped everything.

  “Where’s the helicopter?” he asked.

  “Gone away. Too much cloud I suppose,” Graham replied. He peered closely at Stephen. “You OK Steve?”

  Stephen nodded, but he felt far from alright. “Yes. Just a bit worn out after last night.”

  “Join the club!” Graham replied, but his tone of voice merely annoyed Stephen. It was obvious he was enjoying the whole event.

  “The cloud seems thinner,” Stephen observed.

  “Yes it is. The rain has stopped,” Graham answered. Then he asked the question that had been uppermost in Stephen’s mind. “What do we do next Steve?”

  Stephen turned to him. “Please don’t say anything about the German plane Graham.”

  Graham looked astonished. “Why not? It will be real news.”

  “I know. Then the place will be crawling with militaria buffs and aviation people trying to salvage it.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Graham asked.

  “Because of the dead men,” Stephen replied.

  “They won’t care,” Graham replied, giving a chuckle as he did.

  “It’s not funny!” Stephen snapped. “I am going to have enough trouble sleeping because of.... because of what I’ve seen just down there.” He gestured towards the crash site. “I don’t want to be woken up by ... by ... ghosts.”

  “Ghosts! Fair go Steve,” Graham replied.

  “Don’t talk to me like that!” Stephen cried. “If you are my friend then respect my feelings.”

  There was a moment’s silence. “Sorry Steve,” Graham replied. “I didn't know you.. . er...felt so strongly about... about such things.”

  “Well I do. And I don’t want to be responsible for desecrating those dead men.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I am going to contact the German Embassy,” Stephen replied. “They should be able to recover the... the remains properly, and give them a proper burial. They can also contact any relatives in Germany.”

  “Oh! I never thought of that,” Graham replied. He looked suitably abashed.

  “I know it was a long time ago, but there may still be relatives alive who have been wondering all these years what became of their loved ones,” Stephen said.

  “Yes, you are right,” Graham agreed. “But what if the rescue people from this helicopter accidentally stumble on them, like you did?”

  “That can’t be helped. Anyway, I’ve tossed leaves and stuff over the more obvious bits,” Stephen replied.

  Graham nodded and gave him a sideways look. “I wondered what took you so long.”

  The boys then sat in silence. Stephen shivered and huddled down behind a large rock while Graham stood up, looking in all directions.

  “The cloud is clearing,” Graham called.

  Stephen looked up and was glad to see some patches of blue sky appearing. Then, even as he watched, the cloud rolled away, shredding off the ridgeline. It was as though a curtain had been dragged aside.

  “Holy Moses! Look at the view!” Graham cried.

  Stephen stared. Half a kilometre to their right the top of the mountain now stood out clear against a blue sky. Steep, jungle covered slopes rolled down to the coastal range. Beyond that was mile after mile of coastline and then the sea.

  “Strewth! We can see for ever!” Graham cried, looking in all directions. He pointed. “Look, you can see all the way to Port Douglas and beyond. There are the Low Isles and that must be Cape Tribulation in the distance.”

  Stephen looked but his mind was not on the scenery. His eyes registered each place as Graham named it: the Great Barrier Reef, showing as a line of pale splotches out near the eastern horizon; the distinctive shapes of Double Island and Cape Grafton in the distance away to the south.

  “We can’t see Cairns from here. The top of those mountains gets in the way,” Graham added.

  “What is that beach down there?” Stephen asked, indicating an obvious flat area of bush and beach. To his eye the coast in both directions either side of the small plain was steep mountains running into the sea, with the thin scar of the Cook Highway running along just above it.

  “Must be Wangetti Beach,” Graham replied. “That will be Hartleys Creek directly down that valley from us. Hey! Here comes the helicopter again.”

  Stephen had heard it. Now he saw it; a red and white machine. It came low along the ridge top and Graham stood up and waved. That he was seen was obvious as the helicopter circled around at their height and came to a hover nearby. Stephen could see faces peering out at them. Graham signalled and the helicopter moved slowly over until it was almost above them. The wash of its rotors was added to the wind sweeping up the face of the slope.

  From out of the cabin door appeared a man in bright orange overalls. He was lowered down by a winch. As the crewman came slowly down Stephen turned to Graham

  “Graham, remember you promised. Please don’t say anything about the other plane crash.”

  “I won’t!” Graham replied in a nettled tone.

  Stephen knew that Graham was a stickler for honour and promises and things like that so he held his tongue and watched the crewman being lowered. Within two minutes the man had reached the ground and unclipped his harness. He then made his way towards them. As he joined them he spoke into a walkie talkie radio. Then he turned to Graham and his face changed to recognition.

  “Kirk? You are the fellow we took up the Mulgrave a couple of years ago aren’t you?”

  “That’s right. This is Stephen Bell You winched him out of the jungle during the cyclone,” Graham replied.

  “I remember,” the crewman replied. “That was pretty bloody hairy.”

  ‘Bloody terrifying!’ Stephen thought, but he managed a sickly grin.

  “What have you found?” the crewman asked.

  “A plane crash alright,” Graham replied. “Just down there. We... we didn’t find anyone alive. In fact they are.... they are a bit mangled. We couldn’t even decide how many people had been in it.”

  “Two,” the crewman replied. “You’d better show me.” He began talking on his radio as he followed Graham down off the ridge.

  Stephen stayed where he was, despising himself for being such a weakling, but not wa
nting to face the horrors again. He knew they would stay with him for the rest of his life as it was. Once he saw Graham glance back just before he went out of sight, but he made no signal to follow. ‘Graham can do it,’ he thought. ‘He is good at this sort of thing and they don’t need me.’

  The helicopter’s engine noise changed and it went swooping off to begin circling around at a safer distance. Stephen followed it around with his eyes. As he did he was struck by the view. The clouds had rolled away inland and he was able to see for an immense distance. He knew that Black Mountain was visible from the Tolga area of the Atherton Tablelands and he stared in that direction. ‘That is about a hundred kilometres,’ he thought.

  He identified Rainy Mountain down towards Kuranda and could make out the Lamb Range beyond that but the Tablelands area was still in haze and cloud. To take his mind off things he concentrated on the scenery, sweeping his gaze around from South to West, to North West. Away to the west was a huge wilderness of jumbled hills and mountains covered with jungle. Beyond was the wide valley of the Mitchell River and then the rugged mountains of the Hann Range These were so far away as to be just blue outlines.

  Closer to the North West was the farming country around Rumula and Julatten. That looked quite pretty in the morning sunlight, little patches of jungle and woodland amid bright green fields, all set in rolling hills. A few distant farm houses could be seen, their roofs glinting in the sun. Beyond the farmland the massive bulk of the Mt Windsor Tableland filled the horizon. It looked very dark and forbidding and the clouds still clung to it.

  Twenty minutes later Graham and the crewman came back up, their faces red with exertion. The crewman talked on his radio for a while and the helicopter came back to hover above them. Another crewman began to descend on the winch.

  “You kids can go now. We will clean this up,” the crewman said, to Stephen’s immense relief. He had not been looking forward to helping do that.

  Then the crew man pointed up. “You can go back in the chopper if you want.”

  Terrifying memories of being winched out of the jungle in the driving rain filled Stephen’s mind. He pictured himself dangling high above the steep slopes of the mountain and the thought petrified him. He shook his head vigorously.

  “I’d rather walk down thanks,” he said.

  “You will be there in a few minutes this way,” the crewman persisted.

  “We’ve got our packs and things,” Stephen replied.

  The crewman glanced at their gear and nodded. “That can be winched up. It will be quick this way.”

  ‘Quick alright!’ Stephen thought, picturing the helicopter plummeting down into the trees, his body being ripped and torn asunder. He shuddered and just knew he couldn’t face flying. “I’ll walk thanks.”

  “Suit yourself,” the crewman replied. He turned to Graham. “What about you young Kirk?”

  To Stephen’s immense relief Graham shook his head. “No. I’ll walk down with Steve. Can you ring our parents and ask them to pick us up on the Black Mountain Road?”

  The crewman nodded. “Your other mates are down there now with a police ground party. We will let them know.”

  The second crewman, who had now joined them, said, “Are you kids sure you can get down the mountain without getting lost?”

  That really nettled Graham. “We climbed the bloody thing in the dark!”

  “OK, sorry,” the man replied. Then he turned to his colleague. “Where’s this crash?”

  “See that tree,” the crewman said, pointing.

  “Yep.”

  “The plane clipped that with the tip of his starboard wing. It’s on the slope below it.”

  The second crewman looked around, then commented. “Poor buggers! They were bloody unlucky alright. Not only is this the only bloody mountain for miles but if they had missed that tree by a metre or so they would have been alright.”

  Stephen found that a distressing and unnerving thought. A glance showed him the man was right. There wasn’t another mountain of similar height within twenty kilometres. ‘Can life really be like that?’ he wondered. ‘Just blind bloody chance?’

  “Well, let’s get it over with,” the crewman said.

  “We’ll get going then,” Graham said, glancing at Stephen. Stephen nodded and picked up his webbing. The two boys pulled on their packs and began picking their way upwards along the crest of the ridge.

  “Where are we going?” Stephen asked.

  Graham looked at him in surprise. “To follow our track back down. I don’t feel like cutting another one.”

  “Can you find it?” Stephen asked, then instantly regretted it as Graham gave him an annoyed look.

  “Yes!” was all Graham replied.

  The two climbed in silence. By this time the wind had died down and Stephen soon found he was sweating. He unzipped his jacket but left it on. After ten minutes slow climbing Graham turned right and made his way down into the edge of the jungle. Stephen followed, noting Graham give an accusing gesture to indicate a vine he had snipped on the way up.

  Going down was much easier but was still hard work. Being back in the rainforest brought with it vision problems for Stephen because the water still dripped from the trees and his glasses continually fogged up. As well his leg and shoulder muscles began to complain. Carrying his pack up had been hard work but going down was also a test of endurance. At their first stop he dropped his pack, took off his jacket and stuffed it into the top of the pack.

  The slope was so steep in places that Stephen marvelled that they had climbed it. They had to lower themselves from tree to tree and frequently slipped. The wet undergrowth and leafmould soon soaked their trousers. Perspiration made their shirts wringing wet.

  After about an hour Graham stopped and held up his hand. “Listen,” he said.

  Stephen heard it: cutting. Graham changed direction and made his way across the slope, snipping a path with his secateurs. As the boys advanced the chopping sounds became louder. Then they heard voices.

  It was a group of police and State Emergency Service people, about a dozen. They were surprised to meet the boys and the sweating sergeant in charge stopped them to ask questions. Stephen let Graham do most of the talking. The police radioed to a base station down on the Black Mountain Road to report that they had met up.

  The sergeant then asked: “Are you boys coming back with us?”

  Graham shook his head. “No thanks. We will keep on going down. We’ve had enough of this mountain,” he replied.

  “Don’t you get bloody lost,” the sergeant said.

  Once again Graham bristled. “It’s a bloody conical mountain! If we walk downhill we come off it, no matter which way we go. And it’s got roads and tracks right around it. We came up it in the storm last night. We will be alright.”

  “Yeah, OK. Keep your shirt on!” the sergeant replied.

  “And you people will go a lot faster if you stop wasting time and energy using those machetes,” Graham added. “Use secateurs to snip the vines and it’s easy. Look, just follow our track.” He pointed back the way he and Stephen had come, then started walking down the trail hacked by the police.

  After that it was relatively easy; tiring, but just a downhill plod. Two hours later they reached the bottom. As they came out on more level ground and got glimpses of vehicles through the trees Stephen again called to Graham. “Graham!”

  “Yeah, what?”

  “Don’t mention the German plane to Peter or Roger please.”

  “Why not? Don’t you trust them?”

  “Yes I do, but.... well... it’s just a case of ‘Loose lips sink ships’. Give me a couple of days to arrange things. They will understand.”

  “OK. But what about the photos?”

  “We can download and print them tomorrow. That way we will have some evidence to show the authorities,” Stephen replied. Graham’s camera was a ‘digital’ so the images had to be transferred to a computer and then printed.

  “Oh alright
! But I will be surprised if that gaggle of rescue people don’t stumble on it,” Graham replied.

  Stephen had been worrying about that but could only shrug and hope. The two boys then resumed their descent and came out on the Black Mountain Road to an emotional welcome from Stephen’s parents and their friends. Peter and Roger were both full of praise and wanted to know all the details.

  “What was it like?” Peter asked.

  “Bloody horrible,” Graham replied.

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” Stephen added. “Can we go home? I need a hot bath and a good sleep.”

  His mother and father both embraced him and his mother looked into his face with anxious eyes. “Was it awful?” she asked.

  “Yes it was,” Stephen replied. “I just wish there had been people to rescue.”

  His father patted his shoulder. “You did the right thing son. If they had survived then you might have saved them.”

  Stephen’s mind filled with pictures of the ghastly shreds of remains. To his shame he found his eyes filled with tears. Exhaustion took over and he began to tremble.

  “Oh you poor boy,” Mrs Bell cried. “Come and sit down. Here, take off all that hiking gear.”

  “It’s alright mum. I’m just a bit tired,” Stephen protested, breaking away. He swung off his pack and lugged it over to the family car, which was parked nearby. His father joined him and used the key to open the boot.

  “I’m very proud of you son,” he said as he unlocked it.

  That brought more tears to Stephen’s eyes. “Thanks dad. These bloody glasses were the worst. They kept fogging up.”

  He tossed his pack in and then his webbing. Graham was invited to do likewise. Graham’s father was a ship’s captain and was away at sea and his mother would find it hard to get away to drive up from Cairns. Peter’s mother was there and the adults agreed to take the boys home at once. Mr Bell spoke to the SES controller in the Command Truck parked nearby and they said that was OK.

  Then the adults had to fend off the news media. A TV crew had arrived and did some filming but the last thing Stephen wanted was publicity so he climbed into the back seat of the car and closed the door. His parents then blocked the news people from bothering him. Instead Graham answered some of their questions. Peter and Roger also wanted to discuss the night’s adventures but Mrs Bell said no. “You can talk about it tomorrow. These poor boys need a good bath and sleep. Now let us go home.”