And Fire Falls (25 page)

‘I couldn’t help noticing you two beautiful creatures sitting unescorted,’ he said with a charming and confident smile, ‘and I was wondering if one of you would like to dance with me.’

‘I will,’ Sarah said and stood up. She cast Allison a look as if to say,
See, this is how much I care about David
, and walked onto the dance floor, where she accepted the young American serviceman’s arms around her. Allison followed when another serviceman asked her to dance. For the rest of the evening both women danced with all the young men who asked them, knowing that these boys were destined for the battlefront, and the feel and scent of a woman would provide good memories for them out in the jungles of the Pacific.

After the last dance, Allison picked up her handbag from their table and Sarah joined her with the first American serviceman who had asked her to dance.

‘I’ll give you some money to catch a taxi home,’ Sarah said, her face glowing. ‘Staff Sergeant Daniel and I are going to a party.’

Allison raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s your choice,’ she said, and pushed through the throng of drunken patrons leaving the club. Allison stood on the kerb and hailed a taxi – she was going straight home, but it was obvious that Sarah was not.

24

‘Y
ou’re a tough old bastard, Sergeant Duffy,’ the army major said. ‘I thought you might like to know that you’ve been awarded a Mentioned in Despatches for your leadership back at Isurava.’

Tom Duffy, still bandaged from his wounds, sat up in his hospital bed in Port Moresby. He was recovering well and revelling in the clean sheets, good food and slowly swirling fans that kept the temperature pleasant. It was such a far cry from the conditions he had left behind on the Kokoda Track. ‘I heard that the lads were relieved by the AIF blokes just after I left,’ Tom said. ‘But the Japs are still advancing.’

‘Not your worry any more,’ the major said. ‘You’re to be sent home and honourably discharged. Your war is over. Or should I say, your second war is over.’

‘Sir, I would like to remain in the army and return to the battalion,’ Tom pleaded. Like so many soldiers, his unit had become his second family, and the bond between them was as strong as any that existed between humans. ‘I can’t leave the boys while the Japs are still winning.’

The major frowned. ‘I’m sorry, Sergeant Duffy, but the powers that be have stamped your papers. From what I can gather you should never have been allowed to enlist in the first place. You had a protected job in civvy street as the owner of cattle properties in Queensland. We need people like you to make sure we have food on our tables.’

‘With all due respect, sir,’ Tom said, ‘I have good managers on my properties. I am a soldier, and the best place for me is with the men.’

‘I’m sorry, Tom,’ the major said, dropping the formality of his rank in sympathy for a man he knew had already given so much for his country. ‘When you are deemed well enough to be discharged, you will be shipped back to Australia and demobbed.’

‘Is there anything I can do to stay in uniform?’ Tom asked.

‘Well, considering your sterling record of service to your country, there is a unit back in the far north that could do with your expertise,’ the major said with a slight smile. ‘Admittedly it is manned by former Light Horsemen from the last war. It goes by the name of the North Australia Observation Unit – the Nackaroos most people call them. They’re enlisting men with bush skills to patrol our north in long-range, horse-mounted recces. In the event the Japs do land up north, they will operate like the old Boer commandoes to strike and harass Jap formations. I could wrangle you a place with them if you’re so determined not to return to civilian life.’

For a moment Tom thought about the offer. He would still be in the army and if the Japanese landed he would be back in the thick of the fighting again. ‘Sir, I would give my right arm to serve with the unit,’ he said, knowing it was the only option left to being demobilised.

‘Good,’ the major said, extending his hand. ‘I’ll get the paperwork together. I’m sure with your background you will be an asset to the lads. Congratulations on the MiD, and good luck, Sergeant Duffy.’

The major left and Tom smiled. He’d always known that the army would catch up with him eventually and find a way to send him home. Many of the older soldiers and officers were now being replaced as younger, experienced soldiers and officers of the AIF flowed into New Guinea to continue the bloody battles against the advancing Japanese army. Tom had heard a wounded soldier from another unit say that his battalion, down to two hundred and fifty men, had faced an enemy force of six thousand in his last fight. The once undertrained and under-armed boys of the militia battalions that had first blunted the Japanese advance had long lost the derogatory nickname of chokos from their AIF brothers.

Tom was both confused and annoyed that when he received newspapers from Australia there was only talk about the European war, and nothing about the fighting north of Australia. Admittedly they were fighting back but they were not winning. A war was not won retreating. Tom could not know that their stubborn defence was already being respected by an enemy who had underestimated the Australian character.

An army nursing sister in a clean and starched uniform approached Tom’s bed with fresh bandages. Tom glanced at her and thought that she was probably the same age as his daughter. At least returning to Australia he might get the opportunity to see Jessica again. He knew she was working in Brisbane, at the American HQ there. He was pleased that she had a clerical job that kept her away from the northern front where even the hospitals were subjected to Japanese aerial bombing.

‘Sergeant Duffy, how are we today?’ the pretty young nurse asked as she set down her tray of fresh bandages.

‘A lot better today, sister,’ he replied with a smile. Funny, he thought, that was once his daughter’s title, when she was a nun.

*

Jessica had put two and two together and realised that the Americans had broken the Japanese naval codes. She was intelligent enough to know that the messages she encoded for Allied distribution had to have come from some source well inside the enemy’s communications system.

One morning she was sent upstairs to the eighth floor to deliver a file, something she had done several times before, always accompanied by Tony Caccamo. Today she was standing in the reception area of General MacArthur’s office when she overheard a heated discussion between General MacArthur and Australia’s General Blamey boom through the wall. The American commander was berating the incompetence of the militia troops in their battle against the Japanese. Jessica felt her face redden with anger as she knew her beloved father was one of the militia who had fought in the dense jungles against a better armed and much larger force. General MacArthur ordered Blamey to start sacking commanders in New Guinea and replace them.

‘You can give me that file,’ an army clerk said from behind his desk.

Jessica handed over the file and the clerk signed for it.

The door was suddenly flung open to MacArthur’s office and out stormed a rather rotund, middle-aged man sporting a grey moustache. Jessica recognised him from newspaper photos as General Blamey. She stood to attention but he barely noticed her as he left the office suite, his face red with anger, a swagger stick jammed under his arm.

Before she could recover from her shock of seeing one of Australia’s military commanders, she became aware that a tall figure in an immaculately pressed uniform was standing only feet from her. She knew immediately it was General Douglas MacArthur, and their eyes met. Immediately, she did not like this arrogant man and wondered how they would win the war with him in charge of military strategy. Surely he was aware of how rugged the terrain was where her father was fighting a desperate battle.

He looked at her and frowned. Perhaps he had read her thoughts, Jessica shuddered. Without saying a word, he accepted a file from his clerk and walked back into his office, closing the door.

When she looked back at the clerk, he smiled at her. ‘You Aussies gotta learn who’s running the war out here,’ he said and returned to his paperwork.

Jessica joined Tony in the corridor where he was chatting to a couple of American military police. He looked at her face and saw the dark cloud of anger. They both set off to return to their own section downstairs.

‘I gather something has upset you,’ Tony said quietly.

‘Those damned fools in their safe offices don’t have a clue how tough it is for our troops up in New Guinea,’ she said bitterly.

‘Yeah, I get that impression, too,’ Tony said. ‘I heard that some order had come out of here to build a road across the Owen Stanleys to move supplies. So I had a look at a topographic map of the proposed route, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the stupidity of it all. It’s near damned impossible to build that son of a bitch road. I know your dad would agree with me.’

‘So, I gather you overheard something in the office,’ Tony continued. ‘You are aware that you cannot repeat anything you hear around here.’

‘Of course I know,’ Jessica snapped. ‘Sorry, Tony,’ she added in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I didn’t mean to take it out on you.’

‘I think it’s a good time you had a day off,’ Tony said. ‘I’ll talk to the colonel and get you leave for a day on the town.’

‘You can do that?’ Jessica said.

‘Only if I tell the colonel that I’ll be escorting you,’ Tony grinned.

‘That has to be better than nothing,’ Jessica sighed. ‘It would be nice to go down the coast to the beach and soak in the sun,’ Jessica admitted.

‘The beach it is,’ Tony said as they reached their office. ‘Leave it with me.’

Sure enough, Tony approached Jessica’s desk before her shift was up. ‘I have a twenty-four hour leave pass for us both,’ he said, holding up the precious pieces of paper. ‘They are in effect as from twenty four hundred hours tonight. I will pick you up around eight tomorrow morning and we will go to the beach. Any questions?’

‘Nope, it’s date,’ Jessica countered with a smile.

Tony responded with a broad smile of his own.

The following morning Jessica had packed a small hamper with sandwiches for a picnic, along with her swimming costume. She heard the car pull up outside her bungalow surrounded by tropical trees and went to the door to welcome Tony. He stepped out of the borrowed staff car marked with the American star and immediately she could see the grim expression on his face.

‘I’m sorry, Jessie,’ he said, walking back to her. ‘All leave has been cancelled. We have to go back on duty.’

‘What has happened?’ Jessica asked.

‘The news has come through that the Japs are on the heights overlooking Port Moresby and it seems that the town might fall. HQ is in a bit of a panic. I think Doug is worried that his career is on the line if the Japs take the town. But knowing the general as I do, he will blame it on your Aussie general. You will have to get changed into your uniform and I will drive us back into town.’

Jessica groaned and went back inside to change. Her first real date and duty got in the way. At least she had the consolation of knowing that her father was back in Australia and out of harm’s way.

*

Captain David Macintosh still retained command of the company and knew from intelligence reports that the Japanese had inexplicably commenced a retreat from the heights above Port Moresby. General MacArthur along with General Blamey had arrived in Port Moresby seeking out scapegoats. Some of the most competent commanders in the Australian Army were sacked to appease the American commander, who declared that the fightback was to commence.

However, it had already commenced before his declaration, and now the jungle war was in reverse with the Australian diggers pursuing the withdrawing Japanese army along the same track north.

David led his company on a march north with the rest of the battalion. It was physically tough as the men found themselves in a steady climb over razor-sharp ridges in the Magila Range. Finally they descended in a lather of sweat to a clearing at the base of one of the rugged hills. It had been set out as a stores landing zone for incoming Allied aircraft.

David had his platoon commanders establish defensive perimeters, and they all watched in awe as the Douglas Dakota twin-engine transport aircraft virtually glided down from the crests of the hills to treetop level and disgorge their cargo of boxed supplies. Then the aircraft roared along the valley towards hills where they would open throttles and just clear the crests, before returning to do another run. Even David was impressed with the skill of the young American pilots.

‘At least the lucky bastards get to fly back to Moresby and have a shower, eat a meal off a plate and sleep out of the rain,’ Lieutenant Peter Herbert sighed beside him, watching the last aircraft drone away.

‘Yeah, but look at all the fun they miss out not being able to camp out under the stars,’ David said. ‘Why would any fool give that up?’

Peter laughed. The life of an infantry soldier was as basic as it got in any army. ‘So, when do we have an orders briefing?’ he asked.

David glanced at his wristwatch. ‘In an hour, here,’ he said. ‘Get the word to the others. I want section leaders involved.’

‘Righto,’ Peter said, hefting himself to his feet with the use of his rifle butt. ‘Who are those blokes?’ he asked, spotting three men in the long kunai grass making their way towards them.

David stood up but did not recognise the three soldiers. ‘Go and bring them here,’ David said and Peter ambled over to the men. After a short conversation he brought them back to David.

‘They say they’re from the arty and want to join us so they can get into the fight,’ Peter said as David looked at each man carefully. ‘They reckon their own mob will be kept back at Moresby.’ The three soldiers appeared uncomfortable under David’s scrutiny.

‘You realise that your clearly unapproved leave of absence from your unit is actually desertion,’ David said sternly, noting that they were all carrying rifles and ammunition. ‘But if you want a fight, then you have come to the right place. Stick them in your platoon, Mr Herbert,’ David said with a grin. ‘Let’s see if our brothers from the artillery are as good with rifles as they are with twenty-five-pounders. We’re going to need every rifle we can get when we catch up with the Japs.’

A couple of days later the battalion commander was informed of the recent recruits and David held his breath, expecting a dressing-down.

‘May as well sign them up as official members of the battalion,’ he said, pulling a pained face.

For the next couple of days the battalion moved forward but then found themselves spending time repairing an airfield at Menari. David was frustrated by the work as he wanted to close with the enemy. At least he did get a letter from Allison brought up to them from Moresby in the battalion mail delivery. David took it back to his slit trench where he sat on the edge and opened it.

My dear David,

I hope that this letter finds you well.

I am annoyed that our newspapers do not report the war in New Guinea which means I am unable to follow where you may be when you receive my words. People around me are always complaining of how hard life is, and I become annoyed when I know the terrible things that you and your men must put up with.