Stephen was glad of that. It saved him from having to lie. He leaned back in the seat. Graham climbed in beside him. A minute later the car was moving. With a sigh of relief Stephen sat back and closed his eyes.
They didn’t stay closed long because the gravel road was too bumpy and he kept getting jolted. So he sat and stared out the window, his eyes looking at the jungle but his thoughts back up on the peak of the mountain. Thankfully Graham made little attempt at conversation and soon fell asleep. When the car came out on the bitumen at Kuranda half an hour later Stephen also slipped into an exhausted slumber.
Forty minutes later they pulled up outside Graham’s house in Cairns. His mother, little sister Kylie and big brother Alex all came running out, full of questions. Mrs Kirk and Mrs Bell both shook their heads in dismay.
“I don’t know,” Graham’s mother said. “Every time they go on a hike they seem to get into some sort of catastrophe.”
Graham climbed out and gave Stephen a wry grin. “See you at school tomorrow then Steve.”
Stephen nodded. He did not want to talk. Now he just wanted to be alone for a while. What was bothering him most was the stunning reality of their experience. ‘Dead! Just like that!’ he thought. ‘And all torn to bits!’ He shuddered and once more brooded on the fact that if the plane had been a metre to the left it would have missed the tree. ‘They probably wouldn’t have even seen the mountain,’ he thought. Then he experienced horrifying images of what that last second might have been like for the two men as their plane hurtled out of control.
By the time he got home Stephen was shivering and crying. He did his best to dry his eyes and pretend he was alright but his parents knew him too well. He was helped out of the car. As he went to get his gear out of the boot his father said, “Leave that. I’ll look after it.”
That annoyed Stephen. “It’s alright dad. I’m not an invalid. I’m just worn out and bit upset by what I saw. It will help keep my mind off it if I do things like unpacking.”
“Yes, alright son,” his father replied, but he helped by carrying Stephen’s webbing in.
His mother called out as she took picnic things from the car. “You take all that dirty, wet camping gear to the laundry. I don’t want it in the house.”
“Yes mum!”
So the pack and webbing were dumped in the laundry which was at the back of the car port beside the house. Stephen then made his way to the bathroom. Wet clothes were stripped off and he enjoyed the bliss of a long, hot shower. Warm, dry clothes were waiting for him and he dressed and made his way out to the kitchen.
As he arrived his father was just ending a telephone conversation.
“No you may not interview him. You can wait till he has rested. Thank you, good bye.”
“Who was that dad?” Stephen asked, wincing at the pain from cramping muscles as he sat down.
“A reporter from the paper,” his father replied. “What a cheek!”
‘It’s starting,’ Stephen thought gloomily, contemplating the possible flood of phone calls to come. He sat and wolfed down a big lunch that his mother prepared, thankful that they did not ply him with questions. He was then allowed to go to his room to lie down.
That was bliss too. For a few minutes he luxuriated in the sheer sensual pleasure of the clean sheets and pillow slip, then he slipped into a deep but troubled sleep.
CHAPTER 6
HEADLINES
It was an awful nightmare. The light plane was surrounded by thick clouds and was tossing around in the turbulence. Worse still Stephen knew there was a mountain ahead but he could not make himself speak to warn the pilot. In desperation he turned to the pilot and tried to communicate by shaking his arm- only to recoil in shock! The pilot was a skeleton with rotting green flesh peeling off yellowed bones. At that Stephen screamed. The skeleton turned to grin at him. At that moment a tree flashed into view through the rain and clouds. Stephen screamed again- and was shaken awake.
“Wake up Stephen. Wake up son. It is only a nightmare.”
It was his father. Stephen wrenched his eyes open and gasped for air. Behind his father appeared his mother, her face creased with anxiety. She sat on the bed and stroked his forehead and soothed him while his father went to the kitchen to make him a warm drink.
“Was it awful?” his mother asked.
Stephen nodded and struggled to speak. “It was horrible!” he gasped. “The plane was torn into little bits and the people had been ripped apart.”
His mother shook her head and murmured that he was safe now. “You will be alright,” she said.
Stephen nodded, but inside he was sure he would be tormented by the ghastly sights for the rest of his life. His father brought him a cup of Milo and they then sat with him and gently coaxed him into talking about the experience. Once again his father stressed how much he admired him for having had the courage to climb the mountain. “I’m proud of you son,” he said, patting Stephen on the arm.
That caused more tears but Stephen certainly felt better. He finished the drink and then lay back. This time his father got him talking about the climb up the mountain. Stephen found he could do that, particularly about the problems with his glasses. It was nearly 4am by then and he was able to relax. Exhaustion took over and he slipped into a deep sleep.
This time he was able to sleep right through till daylight. When he woke Stephen lay staring out the window at the bright sunlight shining on the golden flowers just outside his bedroom windows. Then he remembered. Springing out of bed he hurried through the house and out to the laundry. To his dismay all his gear had been unpacked. His pack and webbing lay out in the sun to dry and his sleeping bag was hung on the clothes line. To his relief the gold was still in his webbing, wrapped as it was in his mess gear.
After a few minutes frantic search he found the aluminium briefcase. He even had to look in the garbage bin. It was standing beside the work bench. With hands that trembled he picked the briefcase up.
“Thank God! I don’t think it has been opened,” he muttered. Carefully he examined the perished seal and then took the briefcase inside and put it in his cupboard.
Then he got another shock. “Look at the time! It’s nearly ten O’clock.”
Hurrying out to the kitchen he found his mother working there.
“Hungry dear?” she asked with a smile.
“Yes Mum. But I should be at school, and shouldn’t you be at work?”
“No. You need to recover after your ordeal.”
“But Mum!”
“But nothing! Missing one day of school won’t make any difference,” his mother replied.
By now Stephen was in a dither of anxiety. ‘The photos,’ he thought. What had Graham done about them, if anything?
“Have you rung school?” he asked.
“Yes, but it wasn’t really necessary,” his mother replied. “They knew already.”
“How?” Stephen asked.
His mother picked up that morning’s newspaper. “You are headline news.”
Stephen stared in astonishment. Taking up half the front page was a colour photo, obviously taken through a telephoto lens from the rescue helicopter. It showed the windswept mountainside. Standing on the crestline were two figures in army camouflage uniforms and beside them the rescue crewman in his bright orange. Just at the bottom of the photo could be seen a few pieces of wreckage.
ARMY CADETS MAKE HEROIC RESCUE EFFORT- IN VAIN read the headlines. Stephen swallowed and felt slightly sick again. He quickly read the article which described how he and Graham had climbed the mountain in the dark while Peter and Roger had hiked ten kilometres to telephone for help.
‘After an all-night ordeal which speaks volumes for the boy’s grit and skill they were cruelly disappointed to find that their efforts were in vain. All aboard the aircraft had died in the crash,’ read the article. There was more about how the two men had been flying back to Cairns from a fishing trip at Weipa. ‘Their planned route on the map found in the wreckage
indicated they thought they were ten kilometres further east. The pilot possibly thought he was over the sea. At the time of the crash he was in radio communication with Air Traffic Control at Cairns Airport. He had just asked if his aircraft was visible on the airport radar when radio communication was lost.’
‘Poor bastard!’ Stephen thought sadly. ‘Dead, just like that!’ Then he again studied the photo and his anxiety returned.
“I’d better go to school mum,” he said.
“Why?”
“I need to explain to Captain Conkey why Graham and I were in uniform. It wasn’t an authorised cadet activity,” Stephen explained. Capt Conkey was the OC of Stephen’s school’s army cadet unit, and also his History teacher.
His mother smiled. “He has already called. He has seen the paper. He phoned just before eight to ask how you were and to congratulate you on doing what you knew had to be done.”
Stephen swallowed and felt slightly sick inside. Over the years Capt Conkey had been very good to him and Graham; had in fact given them several chances to recover from potentially disastrous blunders. Cadets had become very important to Stephen and he knew they were one of the things giving him a sense of achievement and stability in his otherwise disorganized life. He, Graham and Peter were now three of the four highest ranking cadets in the unit. The fourth Cadet Under-Officer was another Year 12, Gwen Copeland.
Feeling bad about possibly getting Capt Conkey into trouble Stephen re-read the article. He knew that the army HQ in Townsville would be on the phone to Capt Conkey the moment they learned of the headline.
‘And there are more to come!’ Stephen thought with dismay when he remembered the crashed German floatplane. For a while he hesitated over whether to call the German Embassy or not. Then he read that a work party of police and SES were recovering the remains from the wreck of the Cessna. ‘If they look around they will find the other wreck for sure.’
That decided him. ‘I must phone now. That will give the right people time to get organized.’
However he did not want to use the telephone for that purpose while his mother was within hearing. Instead he rang Graham’s number while his mother prepared a big breakfast of bacon and eggs. Graham was also at home and was also worried about what Capt Conkey might say. To add to Stephen’s concern Graham said that some reporters had been around at his house that morning but that his mother had sent them away.
“You OK?” Stephen asked.
“Yes, just a bit tired,” Graham replied.
“Have you still got those photos?”
“Yeah, why?” Graham answered.
“Could you possibly get prints made this afternoon so we could get them tomorrow?” Stephen asked.
“Mum won’t let me do it now, but I could go to one of those One Hour developing places if you like,” Graham replied.
“Be good if you could stand there and actually watch while they print them,” Stephen said.
“You are worried aren’t you?” Graham replied. “Yes, OK. I’ll do what I can.”
Stephen’s mother then called him to come and eat so Stephen said goodbye and went to the kitchen table. He discovered he was ravenously hungry and ate three fried eggs, four pieces of bacon and two pieces of toast. Hot coffee washed it all down nicely. His mother then said she would do some washing and went out to the laundry.
Stephen took that as his cue. He went to his room and collected a notebook and pencil, then went to the phone. A study of the phone book did not help much. No consulates were listed for any country. The only reference was to a Department of Foreign Affairs number in Canberra. That caused Stephen to hesitate. For several minutes he sat and considered what to do. ‘I could just tell the local police,’ he thought. ‘They would contact all the right people.’
But into his mind came stark images of the yellowed skeletal remains. ‘If I don’t do this right then ghouls or vandals will get there first and just rob them,’ Stephen thought. Some deep superstition about annoying the dead caused him to shudder. ‘No, I must do this right.’ He didn’t formulate the thought consciously but he sensed he had a deep fear of being haunted by ghosts.
That steeled him to pick up the phone and ring the number. The person on the other end was polite and just a little too nosy but gave Stephen the telephone number of the German Embassy in Canberra. Now Stephen was nervous. He had never spoken to such an important official in his life and his hand trembled as he pressed the buttons. Worse still his voice quavered slightly when a person answered.
To Stephen’s surprise the person answered in clear English with a slight Australian accent. “Hello, German Embassy. How can I help you?” asked the woman at the other end.
“Er, can you ..er... um. .. Can I speak to someone important about an aeroplane please?” he stammered.
“An aeroplane? Which aeroplane? Who is speaking please?”
“My name is Stephen Bell. I live in North Queensland and I’ve found the wreck of a German aircraft in the jungle.”
“Aircraft... wreck... in the jungle,” the woman answered. “I don’t understand. In North Queensland? But none of our aircraft has been reported missing.”
“No. It hasn’t just crashed. It was years ago,” Stephen replied.
“Oh? And how do you know it is German?” the woman asked.
“Because of the markings on it,” Stephen replied. He was feeling slightly flustered but also annoyed. “There are two skeletons in it and I thought you might like to know.”
“I see. Who did you say you were?” the woman asked. Her tone of voice worried Stephen. ‘She thinks I am a nut or that it is a hoax or something.’
Stephen told her and gave his address and phone number. Then he said, “Please put me on to someone important. Is there a military or air force attache there?” He had read about such people but had never met one and had no idea if such people were posted to a German Embassy in a place as far away from Germany as Australia.
“Just a moment please,” the woman said. He was then put on hold with the usual music.
After a few minutes wait a man’s voice suddenly came on the line. “Hello Mister Bell. I am Herr Wilhelm Dettweiller. Can you please explain to me what you have found.”
“Master Bell,” Stephen replied. “I still go to school.” He then explained in outline about the plane crash.
“And you say it has German markings?” Herr Dettweiller asked. “Can you describe them to me?”
“World War Two markings. Straight black crosses with white edges, and there is a swastika on the tail fin.”
“World War Two! Are you joking? Is this some sort of a hoax?” Herr Dettweiller answered.
“No it isn’t,” Stephen replied.
“How could a German military aircraft possibly be in such a place?” Herr Dettweiller asked. To Stephen he sounded very sceptical.
“From a ship. It is a floatplane,” Stephen answered. He was getting anxious now, partly because his mother had come back into the kitchen. “If you want to check up on who I am get a copy of today’s ‘Cairns Post’ and you will see a photo of me and a friend on top of a mountain. We had just found a plane crash, but it isn’t the one I am talking about. Please check. There are two dead German airmen in the wreck we found and I don’t want their.... their remains desecrated.”
There was a moment’s silence. Then Herr Dettweiller said, “I will call you back in a few minutes. Please wait.”
With that he hung up. Stephen sat back and found he was perspiring freely. His mother walked over.
“Who was that dear? Was it another of those horrible reporters?”
“No mum. It was the German Embassy in Canberra,” Stephen replied. He could see now he couldn’t keep it secret from his parents.
“The German Embassy!” his mother cried in astonishment. “I hope you are paying for the call! What ever on earth do you want to talk to them about?”
Stephen asked her to sit and then told her the whole story. As he finished he explained, “I just d
idn’t want their bodies all messed about by Nazi freaks or militaria buffs.”
His mother nodded. “You are quite right. This is best.”
As she said this the phone rang again. Stephen snatched it up. It was Herr Dettweiller. Inside Stephen gave a sigh of relief. “Master Bell? Herr Dettweiller again. Could you please explain to me in more detail exactly what you have found.”
Trembling with emotion Stephen did so, his mother nodding encouragement as he did so. After nearly twenty minutes Herr Dettweiller said, “This is all most interesting. Thank you for informing us. We will certainly investigate. Could you please not tell anyone else about this until we have done so?”
“I’ve told my mother. She is here beside me now. But she won’t tell anyone. And the only other person who knows is my friend Graham Kirk. He was with me and he took some photographs.”
“Photos! Would it be possible to fax or email them to us?”
“Certainly sir,” Stephen replied.
“Here are the email address and a Fax number,” Herr Dettweiller said. He gave Stephen this information, then said, “Please keep this all confidential. We do not want the wrong people to find out about it before we can make proper arrangements. I will be in touch. Thank you.”
With that he rang off. Stephen sat back and felt much better. He was even able to accept his mother’s suggestion of lunch. After lunch he went to his room. The first thing he did was scan his bookshelf. A few years before he had been very interested in aircraft and had obtained or been given several large reference books on them. Sitting on his bed he flipped through ‘Combat Aircraft of the World’.
“Ah! Here it is,” he muttered. “An ARADO Ar 196.” For the next ten minutes he carefully studied the drawings in the book. By the time he had finished he was sure it was the same type as the wreck. “The tailplane is the right shape, and that engine cowling looks the same.”
Secret in the Clouds Page 6