And Fire Falls (17 page)

He felt the moist softness and found that he did not want to resist. For so long he had lived in a brutal world of fear and death, now all he wanted was to lose himself in this moment. For so long he had felt his body tremble in fear as each red hot piece of flying shrapnel reached out to tear him apart, or a bullet to rip into his body. Now he could feel Sarah’s tongue sliding into his mouth and all was forgotten of illicit love.

‘I want you,’ Sarah moaned, and David knew that he wanted her too.

‘Ahem.’

At the sound of the voice behind them, David quickly pulled away.

‘I hope I did not see what I thought I saw,’ Donald said. ‘As the guest of honour, David, it is time for you to go inside for the speeches.’

There was no sense protesting and David felt ashamed. Donald was like a brother to him, and the iciness in his voice said it all.

‘We’re coming inside now,’ Sarah said stiffly.

David and Sarah entered the house and Donald raised his glass to toast the efforts of David and the army. David declined from responding and felt that his face was still flushed from embarrassment. He noticed Sarah exchange looks with Allison and thought he saw a frown from the wife of the RAAF pilot but a look of victory on Sarah’s face.

In the early hours of the morning David caught a taxi and returned to Sean Duffy’s flat in the city. His attempt at sleep was interrupted by nightmares of being back with his platoon holding off waves of German panzers in North Africa. But at the same time he could still taste the sweetness of Sarah’s kiss. He knew what he felt was wrong, but all he could think of was how to scheme to meet with her again – alone this time.

*

Flight Officer Paul Jenkins could feel the oppressive humidity in his cockpit as he desperately fought to get his Kittyhawk fighter-bomber off the jungle airstrip at Milne Bay. The situation was desperate as the marines of the elite Japanese Special Naval Landing Force commenced to pour across the airfield in an all-out suicidal attack.

The powerful engine picked up revs and Paul Jenkins opened the throttle to send his aircraft directly at the line of men being led by a sword-wielding officer. When his aircraft tail lifted and his tough aircraft was level, he reached for the trigger to fire his six .50 calibre machine guns mounted in the wings of the aircraft. He could feel the high-powered rounds shudder through the aircraft’s body as they left the barrels, and he saw the heavy bullets tear into the attacking force. He felt his undercarriage clip a Japanese soldier who had not ducked in time.

The aircraft lifted from the dirt airstrip and climbed to circle around to carry out a strafing run on the fanatic enemy below. Sweating profusely in his cockpit, he caught a glimpse of the placid tropical waters of the adjacent bay and the continuous green jungle running off the beach. Suddenly he felt the heavy thump of something hitting his aeroplane and experienced a searing pain in his legs. He fought to keep control of the aircraft as it wobbled in the air. He sensed that the warmth he could feel below his waist was his own blood, then the aircraft shuddered and fell from the sky in a slow spiral. Paul could not move, and knew that he would soon be dead as the fighter plane picked up speed.

16

‘F
ace it, Sarah, you are infatuated with that man,’ Charles said angrily. ‘Make up your mind as to where your future lies – with me or him.’

Sarah sat in the living room of her father’s house. It was early evening and an open fire threw off a soft orange glow. ‘I’m not sure how I feel,’ she said softly. ‘David only has two days left of his leave, and it is my duty to show him support.’

‘Show support!’ Charles exploded, pacing the room in front of her. ‘You call that showing support the other night at the party?’

‘I don’t know what my brother told you,’ Sarah said coolly, ‘but nothing unseemly happened in the garden, it was no more than the fond expression of cousins.’

Charles shook his head. ‘So what do you plan next?’

‘David finishes his leave and I have not seen him since the party,’ she replied. ‘I doubt that I will, as he has been out of contact.’

‘So, you have attempted to contact him,’ Charles growled. ‘To arrange another fond meeting between cousins?’

Sarah turned away and stared at the flickering flames. She was confused by her own feelings. She accepted that Charles was the right man for her, but she had an unexplainable desire to be with David. He was like a drug, and she found herself daydreaming about making abandoned passionate love with him. Everything rational told her this was wrong – he was her cousin, a Jew and a soldier – but nothing diminished her desire for him.

‘I think we should stop seeing each other for a time, Charles,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m not sure how I feel at the moment.’

‘Fine,’ Charles said and grabbed his hat. ‘But don’t expect me to wait for you while you make up your mind.’

When he was gone Sarah continued to sit staring at the flames. If she left her seat and walked to the open fire to place her hand in the flames it would not be unlike making contact with David Macintosh.

*

David Macintosh walked out of the gates of the army’s Victoria Barracks in Sydney. He had attended an intelligence briefing for officers concerning the current state of the defence against the Japanese in the Pacific. Along the Kokoda Track the news was grim, but at a place called Milne Bay the defending Australian infantry, supported by American engineers, anti-aircraft gunners and the RAAF, had beaten back the Japanese marines as they attempted to seize the three strategic airfields. The fighting was desperate but there was a feeling that if the Japanese gave up their attempts, it would be a turning point in the South West Pacific campaign, as it would be the first time in the war that the enemy had been decisively denied a strategic objective.

David had only walked a little way when he noticed an expensive chauffeur-driven car pull up at the kerb. Sarah stepped out and stood waiting for him.

‘Sarah,’ David said. ‘You’re a surprise.’

‘I asked Major Duffy where I might find you,’ she said. ‘He was kind enough to tell me.’

‘Any special reason to find me?’ he asked, feeling his heart pounding. He had stayed away from her since the party, wrestling with his feelings. Seeing her standing in front of him brought back memories of their kiss.

‘I’ve been informed that you only have another forty-eight hours before you are shipped out, and I thought that you might like to go somewhere nice,’ she said, pulling up the collar of her fur coat against the biting wind.

‘That would be grand,’ he replied with a slow smile. ‘Anywhere in particular?’

‘We have a cottage over at Manly,’ Sarah said. ‘It has been in the family for many years. We have a caretaker there and I have asked him to open up the house. I thought you might like to be by the sea . . . with me.’

For a short moment David pondered the invitation. He was walking towards a raging fire and he knew it. ‘I think that’s a great idea,’ he said. ‘What do I need?’

‘Just you,’ Sarah answered and a smile lit up her face. ‘Everything has been arranged. I am not expected at the office, and you do not have to report in for the next two days. Major Duffy told me that. We can take a ferry across the harbour. The cottage is only a short walk from The Corso.’

David followed Sarah into the back seat of the car. He was stepping willingly into the flames.

*

‘Let’s walk along the beach to the cottage,’ Sarah said, taking off her shoes and stepping onto the sand. David did not remove his boots but followed Sarah, scattering a cluster of seagulls standing forlornly against the cold wind. Dark clouds were boiling up from the south, and barbed wire separated the narrow stretch of beach from the sea.

They walked along in silence. Sarah stopped to pick up a seashell and gazed across the seas with their crests of white foam. ‘I think it will rain soon,’ she said. ‘I had the caretaker stock the cottage, so we need not be forced to go shopping.’

‘Good,’ David stared at the grey horizon of the Tasman Sea, his mind wandering to the days and weeks ahead that would take him back to the battle line.

Sarah reached out to take his hand, and he experienced a shock of mixed feelings. They both knew what was about to occur between them, but they did not speak of it.

‘There’s the cottage,’ Sarah said, pointing to a quaint little house perched at the edge of the beach. David could see that it was very old but had been well maintained over the years.

‘I have only stayed here twice,’ Sarah said. ‘Father wished to sell it, but I protested, and he has given it to me.’

For a moment he had the strange feeling of having been here before. He stopped and stared at the little weatherboard house surrounded by a well-kept garden of shrubs and flowerpots. He had the overwhelming feeling that he had stayed at this house, but that was impossible as he had never been to this part of Sydney before.

Sarah tugged at his hand and led him to the front door. She used a key to open it and they both stepped inside to a slightly musty living area set out with simple furniture David guessed dated back almost a century. There was a chill in the air and it was obvious that the house was rarely used.

‘Well?’ Sarah asked with genuine pleasure. ‘What do you think?’

‘It’s perfect,’ David replied.

Sarah turned and threw her arms around his neck. ‘This is our place, Michael,’ she said.

‘Michael?’ David said, and Sarah stepped back.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, red-faced. ‘I don’t know why I said that.’

‘Maybe you have a boyfriend called Michael,’ David teased her. ‘I guess it will be my job to light the stove and warm this place up.’

‘If you do that you can put your feet up while I cook dinner.’

David stepped outside to find a stack of wood cut for the fireplace. He brought in enough to get the combustion stove going. When it was lit, Sarah produced a bottle of sherry. David was normally a beer drinker but he accepted the small glass.

‘Shall you propose a toast?’ Sarah said.

‘Ladies first,’ David replied.

Sarah raised her glass. ‘I pray that you remain safe and return home one day,’ she said, and David drank to that. They emptied the glasses and Sarah’s eyes watered. ‘Father would not approve,’ she laughed.

‘Of you being here with me, or of drinking hard liquor?’ David said quietly.

‘Both,’ Sarah responded. ‘But right now I think I should prepare something for us to eat. You must be starving, you haven’t had any lunch.’

‘Are you a good cook?’ David asked with a faint smile.

‘You’re about to find out,’ Sarah grinned.

‘It may sound strange,’ David said, glancing around the cottage, ‘but I almost feel at home here.’

‘I’m glad,’ Sarah said, rummaging through the old wooden cabinet for a frying pan. ‘I feel that the cottage is meant for us.’

David walked over to a battered bureau and slid back the cover. In a drawer he found some faded sheets of thick sketching paper. He flipped through the papers and came across a portrait of a very beautiful dark-haired woman. Above the woman’s head were the words,
May The Angels Protect You Forever
. David lifted the sheet and stared at the woman. She bore a distinct resemblance to Sarah, and he guessed that she must be an ancestor.

‘Do you recognise this woman?’ he asked, turning to Sarah.

She left the stove and walked over to David, who passed her the sheet of paper.

‘It looks very old,’ she said, gazing at the image. ‘And the words are so beautiful. I’m afraid I don’t know who she is, though.’

‘I think the artist signed his name,’ David said, looking over her shoulder.

‘Oh my God!’ Sarah gasped when she focused on the small, faded signature at the bottom right of the sketch. ‘It says Michael Duffy! This must be my ancestor, Fiona Macintosh.’

‘She looks like you,’ David said and felt an inexplicable chill, although the house was growing warmer.

Sarah turned her attention to David, placing the sketch on the desk. ‘They might have stayed here, although I cannot see how, given the antipathy of Lady Enid Macintosh, Fiona’s mother, to Michael Duffy.’

‘Well, that’s past history, and all I know right now is that I’m hungry,’ David said, attempting to shrug it off.

Sarah went about preparing steak with peas and mashed potato for dinner, and at the table David complimented Sarah on her cooking. There was tension between them as they ate and David knew he was aching to take Sarah to the bedroom.

When the meal was finished, Sarah said, ‘I don’t think we should worry about washing the dishes tonight.’

It was like a cue, and David pushed away his chair to go to Sarah. He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, placing her on the big double bed. She did not resist but melted into his body when he lay down beside her and began kissing her passionately. They were hardly aware that they were removing their clothing, but suddenly they were naked together. David could not remember a time that he had given himself so fully to another woman since his Russian lover, Natasha, in France in 1936. For the moment the horrors of war were forgotten in lovemaking that was both passionate and tender. When they finally disengaged and lay beside each other under the warm quilt, a serenity descended on David that he had not experienced in a long time.

‘I have waited so long for this moment,’ Sarah said, staring happily at the ceiling. ‘I think I fell in love with you the very first time I saw you in that Berlin cafe. It felt as if we were meant to be together.’

The flickering candle beside the bed danced shadows all around them. Sarah rolled towards David and snuggled into him. He could feel the wetness of her tears on his chest.

‘Why are you sad?’ he asked.

‘I’m not sad,’ she said. ‘I’m happy. But I am sad that when we leave here tomorrow I know that you will be sent back to war, and I realise how much time we have wasted not being together.’

‘Sarah, I don’t think I’m the man to share your life,’ David said as gently as he could, and Sarah pushed herself away from him.

‘Why not?’ she asked angrily. ‘I have always felt we are destined to be together.’

‘I can’t guarantee that I will still be alive in the months ahead,’ he said and Sarah’s anger abated.

‘You can’t die, my love,’ she said. ‘I will pray for your safe return.’

‘I am afraid I lost my faith in God a long time ago,’ David said. ‘He did not answer the prayers of those I knew in Dachau. Besides, you have Charles Huntley in your life – he won’t go getting himself killed on the battlefield.’

Sarah lent her head back on his chest. ‘It’s you I love, not Charles.’

David sighed. It was obvious that Sarah had made up her mind, and he had to admit that he was also strongly drawn to her. They slipped into a comfortable sleep, and when the dreams came to David so too did the nightmares of a soldier. He was once again trapped in the hell of German 88 millimetre shells exploding around him and the deadly fingers of shrapnel tearing at his men.

‘David?’ Sarah’s voice came to him softly. ‘Are you all right?’

David opened his eyes and he could see that the candle had burned down and they were in darkness.

‘You were trembling and calling out things that frightened me,’ Sarah said, leaning over him.

David tried to focus in the dark, and for a brief moment he thought he saw the shadowy figure of a dark man standing in the corner watching them. He was a bearded Aboriginal man with a long spear and his anger was apparent. But the spectre faded when David was fully awake and he dismissed it as an hallucination in his half-asleep condition.

Sarah slid over the top of him and before David knew it they were once again making love in the dark.

*

In a tent at Kokoda village, a young Japanese staff officer compiled an intelligence report. Under the heading of
Characteristics of the Australian Infantry
he wrote:

The fighting spirit of the Australian infantry soldier is strong and we should carefully study the battles which occurred at Rabaul and Kokoda. In the jungle, positions were dug along the pathways and small, natural objects were skilfully used as cover for automatic weapons, which were used at close quarters. During the battles at Vunukanau and Kokoda, fighting
occurred only three or four metres apart. The Australians
were good marksmen, and use grenades with skill.

*

Sergeant Tom Duffy lay in the jungle on the side of the muddy track, shivering uncontrollably.

‘Looks like a bad bout of malaria,’ he heard a voice say a few feet from him, and recognised the regimental medical officer’s voice. ‘He’s too bloody old to be here anyway.’

If Tom had had the strength he would have protested. Had he not helped keep his young soldiers alive in the bitter skirmishing back towards Port Moresby?

‘Organise to have Sergeant Duffy evacuated back down
the line to a hospital,’ Tom heard before he lapsed into
unconsciousness.

He was barely aware of being evacuated by Papuan
stretcher bearers as they fought their way up steep slopes and slithered down inclines to splash through swiftly flowing mountain creeks. Tom was vaguely aware that his bearers would sometimes fan him with a palm leaf. Time lost all meaning and Tom could not tell how many days and nights had passed before they reached a coastal town on the southern side of the island. There his litter was slid into the back of a truck filled with others suffering tropical illnesses or carrying battle wounds.