And Fire Falls (4 page)

Jessica discarded her nun’s clothing and dressed in the trousers and shirt. She kept her shoes and carefully wrapped the habit in the canvas bag. She placed the food and water in another smaller bag that had been enclosed in the parcel, then slung the bag over her shoulder. By the time she had made ready, the sun was below the horizon of the surrounding hills. Jessica prayed that the track she had taken with Rabasumbi was not being patrolled by the Japanese and plunged into the dense jungle to seek out the wounded Australian soldier.

However, it quickly became too dark to continue, so Jessica was forced to pull off the track to sleep on the damp ground. She spent a long, lonely night being bitten by insects and startling in fright at any rustle in the undergrowth, and when the sun rose in the morning her exposed face and hands were red and swollen with bites. All she could do was pray that none of the mosquitoes carried malaria.

Jessica opened a tin of bully beef and swallowed the warm, greasy meat. It gave her the strength to carry on, and within the hour she found the marker on the side of the trail indicating where she could find the soldier.

Jessica made her way cautiously through the thicker bushes and found Sergeant Bruce King still propped against the tree. His eyes were closed and she called softly to him. His eyes opened and she could see a look of shock on his face.

‘Is that you, Sister Camillus?’ he asked.

Jessica made her way to his side and took out a tin of bully beef, opened it and passed it to the weakened soldier. He scoffed down the tin’s contents, then took a long swallow of the water from the bottle Jessica passed to him.

‘I thought I was going to starve to death,’ he sighed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘How come you’re dressed like a man? I almost didn’t recognise you in that kit.’

‘The Japanese found out I was helping you. Someone warned my mother superior, and so here I am. My fate is to escape with you.’

The Australian sergeant nodded. ‘You know that if the Nips catch us it will mean certain death?’

‘If I had remained at the mission station I’m sure I would be dead by now,’ Jessica responded, rising to her feet. ‘If you are able to walk I think that we should get going.’

Bruce rose unsteadily to his feet and took a couple of faltering steps. ‘I am okay,’ he said, noticing Jessica’s concern. ‘Let’s go.’

The two avoided the track and instead took a path that ran parallel. They made relatively good progress through the day, even coming across a small flowing creek with clear water. Jessica insisted they boil the water and allow it to cool before they drank. As they sat by the creek Jessica marvelled at the beauty around her. Large butterflies and exotic birds were visible in the rays of the sun filtering through the matted canopy. The ground was thick with bright moss and vivid-coloured leaves. The Garden of Eden must have looked like this, she mused.

Suddenly the bird calls and the chirping of insects ceased. Bruce looked up sharply and turned to Jessica. ‘We have company,’ he whispered. They were exposed here in this small clearing by the creek and any movement would give away their position. Whoever had broken the serenity of the bush must surely know that they were nearby.

Jessica clamped her lips shut, hoping that she would not cry out in terror.

*

Diane was paralysed by fear and every maternal instinct to protect her young son welled up in her. It was near dark and the jungle dripped with the recent downfall. Patrick was smiling at the sight of the deadly krait snake a few inches from his outstretched hand. Its black and white stripes had attracted his attention, and the nocturnal snake was rousing for a night of hunting.

‘Patrick,’ Diane called hoarsely, her throat dry. ‘Move away to Mummy.’

But Patrick continued to chuckle his delight at the new toy and reached out to pat the deadly snake as he squatted in the small clearing.

Suddenly the snake was lifted away from the boy as Cyril used a long walking stick to fling the highly venomous reptile into the bush. Diane leapt to her son, grabbing him and smothering him with kisses and tears.

‘Goddamned snakes,’ Cyril muttered. ‘Got to be careful. Thankfully we should be out of here tomorrow.’

Diane glanced up at the Canadian with an expression of deep gratitude. She knew the snake was lethal and she shuddered when she considered what might have happened if Patrick had been bitten out here, far from any hope of medical attention. She released her grip on her son and wondered at how like her husband he seemed. Captain Matthew Duffy had not known his new bride was pregnant when he was killed in an Iraqi marketplace by an assassin sent to kill her for being a spy. Matthew had given his life for her and now she felt that Patrick carried his soul. The boy had not complained about the physical hardships of the trek over the mountains to Singapore. Instead, he had asked many questions about everything he’d seen around him. He had his father’s toughness and curiosity. Oh, if only Matthew had known his son, she reflected sadly.

The remains of the rice they had carried with them for the trek was cooked and distributed, floating in the beefy Bovril drink. They would rest up in the chill of the high ground and in the morning reach a town.

3

I
t seemed that most of the strategic decisions about the Macintosh empire were made over the breakfast table at the great mansion overlooking Sydney Harbour. Donald had to admit that, despite her youth and inexperience, his sister Sarah had an extremely astute business mind.

‘Asparagus will be a luxury food when the Americans finally arrive,’ she said, breaking the top off a hard-boiled egg while the warm summer sunlight streamed through French doors into the dining room. Beyond the doors the well-tended gardens bloomed with flowers. ‘They are a luxury food and the Americans love to indulge in luxuries.’

Donald put down his newspaper and glanced at his sister across the enormous polished table. ‘What makes you think the Americans will come here in large numbers? We might just see a handful arrive to liaise with our forces.’

‘They’ll need to use us as a base to strike at the Japanese. Curtin has already rejected Churchill’s request to send some troops to Burma and has instead diverted them back home to defend our interests. We’re in a desperate situation and the Americans will come to our aid,’ she said confidently. ‘Thus we will be the supplier of the Americans in this part of the world. I think that the board should be exploring ways we can exploit this opportunity when it arises. We should be one step ahead of our competitors when the Americans seek contracts with local companies. I think that we should even now establish a monopoly on all asparagus farmers for supply.’

Donald frowned. The news from Malaya looked bleak. Already the British navy had lost two of its finest battleships off the Malayan coast to Japanese airpower, and the enemy army was rapidly advancing on Singapore. Should the fortified island fall, it was very possible that the imperial Japanese forces would sweep south to the shores of Australia. Even now the mood here was that the country was on the verge of being invaded, and many were leaving Sydney to resettle further inland.

As if reading his thoughts, Sarah piped up, ‘I think we should also expand our real estate holdings by purchasing properties from those who wish to sell and escape to the countryside. In the current climate of fear, we should be able to acquire substantial properties at a low price.’

‘You are a ruthless woman, Sarah Macintosh,’ Donald said, half-horrified and half-impressed by his sister’s pragmatic attitude.

‘I am sure father has put these ideas in your head.’

‘No, dear brother,’ she snapped. ‘Both ideas are mine alone, but I am sure father would agree.’

‘I’m sure he would,’ Donald replied. ‘Aren’t you just a bit concerned that the Japs might one day march into Sydney?’

‘If they do,’ Sarah answered calmly, ‘I’m sure that they will need people to manage the commercial output of the country, and I am sure that we could accommodate them.’

Donald was shocked at his sister’s mercenary statement. It verged on treason, yet he also knew that she was being practical, putting the business ahead of human emotion. Their father would have done just the same. Donald had only just become aware of Sir George’s secret dealings with the Germans in the Great War; careful scrutiny of the family assets had revealed hidden bank accounts in Sweden and Switzerland. As both countries had remained neutral in the current conflict, the monies divested to those accounts remained safe from Axis or Allied seizure.

‘I would not let your views be known outside this room,’ Donald cautioned. ‘It would not be in our interests to give our competitors reason to question our loyalty to our country.’

The previous year Donald had sat on councils in Canberra discussing the transfer of industries to wartime output. He had helped oversee the conversion of a company producing cases for lipsticks cases to turning out shell cases to be used on the battlefield. He had also worked on petrol rationing, newsprint rationing, and even had involvement in the decision to have the call-up age for military service to be extended to thirty-three years of age for single men. His position with the government gave him an insider advantage in his own companies’ affairs and a box seat to watch Easts rugby league team beat Canterbury–Bankstown in the grand final in the year before. He had even been invited to travel south to occupy a box seat to watch Melbourne defeat Richmond but his busy business life had prevented that happening.

‘The asparagus?’ Sarah questioned, dipping a finger of toast into the soft boiled egg.

‘I will put it to the board,’ Donald sighed. ‘I am sure that we will be readily supplied with asparagus – along with the Yanks if they get here before the Japs.’

‘And the purchase of real estate?’

‘That will be discussed at the next board meeting,’ Donald replied. ‘Oh, I almost forgot to tell you – I am booked to travel to the USA next month.’

‘How exciting,’ Sarah gasped. ‘Can I come with you?’

‘I am afraid not,’ Donald smiled. ‘You will be needed here to manage the business until I return. I am sure that will compensate for not travelling to the States with me.’

Donald could see the delight on his sister’s face. Until now she had been in his shadow, tolerated on the board because of her brother’s stable management of the Macintosh financial empire. With her brother away she would assume his role and prove herself. David only hoped that she would keep her attitude towards the Japanese to herself.

*

Jessica Duffy and Sergeant Bruce King crouched by the jungle stream, their nerves stretched to breaking point. The noise of movement in the jungle was accentuated by the sudden silence of the forest itself. It was as if the trees themselves held their breath waiting to see what would happen.

‘Off to the right,’ Bruce hissed without looking in that direction. ‘I thought I saw the barrel of a rifle.’

Jessica tensed her body to flee, realising at the same time she might draw a rain of Japanese small arms fire down on them.

‘You jokers want to join us?’ a voice called quietly from the bank above. Its distinctive Australian twang tinged with an English accent immediately flooded Jessica with relief, and she saw that the speaker was backed by a small party of carriers bearing machetes, and Tolai police armed with Lee Enfield rifles.

‘Sergeant Bruce King of the NGVR,’ Bruce said, slowly standing up as the European soldier emerged cautiously to greet them. He registered surprise when he saw that the face under the hat of the Australian NCO’s companion was that of a pretty young woman. ‘I have Sister Camillus with me. She had to hop it from her mission station when the Nips found out she had helped me out. The bloody Japs massacred my cobbers back at the Tol plantation.’

‘Frank Holland,’ the man said. ‘I’m working with the New Guinea Administrative Unit. I used to work a timber plantation before this lot happened. The district officer sent us out to see if we could find any survivors of the Tol massacre. We’re going to head north to an evacuation point to see if anyone else has had a bit of luck like you. The good sister can travel with us.’

Gathering up their meagre supplies, Jessica set off with the patrol to trek north. She was fully aware that they would be constantly on the alert for Japanese patrols, and Frank Holland had warned them that they also had to contend with the dreaded warriors of the Mokolkol people. These were men of New Britain who had little contact with the Europeans and lived a life raiding villages and killing the native police with long-handled obsidian axes. They were fearless and highly territorial, and the Japanese invasion meant little to them. Only days earlier Frank’s patrol had been ambushed by around a dozen of the fierce warriors, resulting in a short but vicious skirmish with casualties on both sides.

That night Bruce informed Frank that the superintendent of the Rabaul Police and Lieutenant Colonel Carr with a party of soldiers were located at the village of Ril but probably were now making their way down the coast. Holland pondered the information with his hand resting on his .45 revolver under the dim light of a kerosene lantern.

‘I will attempt to intercept them before they get too far ahead,’ Frank Holland said finally. ‘You and Sister Camillus can remain here until I return.’

The next day Holland departed with his patrol of native police and carriers, leaving Bruce and Jessica at the small compound of the former police master’s hut in a place called Kasalea. They had food and supplies, but no weapons as none could be spared.

The following day Jessica found a tub and water in the hut and warned Sergeant King that she intended to bathe. The Australian was a gentleman and left the hut to take up a position, as a sentry would. When Jessica called to him that she was finished, he returned to the hut. It was going to be a long day waiting for Frank Holland’s patrol to return, so Bruce looked through some old cabinets and found a pack of grubby, well-thumbed cards.

‘Do you play cards, sister?’ he asked, sitting down at a small rickety wooden table.

‘I used to play euchre with my father before I took my vows,’ Jessica said and Bruce first noticed that the nun’s head was almost shaved when she came out of the room where the bath tub was located without wearing her hat. He had not thought about what nuns had under their head dress before and the sight took him by surprise. He could see that it did not detract much from her fine features and olive skin.

Jessica sat down opposite Bruce as he flipped out the cards for a round of euchre.

‘Your father still alive?’ Bruce asked, eyeing his hand.

‘Yes,’ Jessica said, fanning out her cards. ‘He was a soldier in the Great War, he won medals for bravery. He lives in Queensland and owns cattle stations. I’m his only child.’

‘So, why would you want to become a nun when you obviously have a bit of inheritance coming your way?’ Bruce asked, preparing to make his first move.

‘I thought that God had called me to His service,’ Jessica replied. ‘But even before I had to evade the Japanese, I had doubts about my decision.’

‘So you’re thinking about giving the big boss your notice when we get out of here?’ Bruce asked with a smile.

‘It is not easy to renounce your vows,’ Jessica answered, playing a royal card. ‘But I think I may be better suited to a secular life back in Queensland. And I worry about my father – he’s not a young man any more.’

‘If he was a soldier with the last lot, I guess he would be about my age,’ Bruce said. ‘Look at me, I’m out here fighting the Nips.’

Jessica paused and looked across the table at the Australian sergeant.

‘That’s what worries me about my dad,’ she said. ‘He’s likely to try to sign up to fight in this war. Many people say that Tom Duffy is as tough as Wallarie, the legendary Aboriginal warrior.’

‘Tom Duffy! He wasn’t with the 29th battalion, by any chance?’ Bruce asked.

‘He was a platoon sergeant in the 29th,’ Jessica replied, and noticed the expression of surprise spread across the Australian sergeant’s face.

‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Bruce said, forgetting the card game for the moment. ‘Tom was one of the best bloody soldiers the AIF ever saw, and I can tell you that he saved my hide on more than one occasion. And here I am, in the middle of nowhere, with his daughter . . . a nun!’

‘You knew my father?’ Jessica echoed. ‘It is indeed a small world.’

‘I could tell you stories about your old man that would curl your toes,’ Bruce chuckled. ‘But they might not be fit for a daughter . . . let alone a nun.’

Jessica smiled warmly at the man who suddenly did not feel like a stranger. ‘Father didn’t tell me anything about the war,’ she said, ‘but, sometimes I heard him cry out in the night and even then, as a young girl, I knew he was talking to dead men.’

‘Some in the army gave your dad a hard time because he was part Abo,’ Bruce said. ‘As far as the rest of the mob in the company were concerned, your old man was someone we’d have died for if he’d asked us to.’

Jessica felt a surge of pride in her father.

‘I know it’s a bit presumptuous, sister,’ Bruce said. ‘But what name did your dad give you when you were born?’

‘I was baptised Jessica and my father calls me Jessie,’ she answered. ‘I think, under the circumstances, you should call me Jessie rather than Sister Camillus.’

‘Jessie it will be from now on,’ Bruce said, placing his hand of cards on the table. ‘Now it’s my turn to look after Tom Duffy’s daughter, and when we get back to Australia I’m going to look him up and tell him what a bloody good girl you are.’

Jessica smiled but deep in her fears she realised they were far from any place of safety as the Japanese advanced, sweeping aside any resistance. Would Australia be able to resist what could be an imminent invasion? Although the young woman was not aware, other guardian angels existed in her life, and one was a very close friend who had also served with her father and helped him establish his fortune.

*

Lieutenant James Duffy stood on the flight deck of the aircraft carrier, USS
Yorktown
, gazing west at the sun sinking on the horizon of the Pacific Ocean. The great carrier had been built before the war and had seen action in the Marshall and Gilbert islands, raiding against Japanese land bases. James had not been aboard when the carrier had struck against the expanding Japanese forces, instead he’d been holed up on the mainland pestering his senior officers for a transfer to the Pacific. He had dreamed of flying a Wildcat fighter but the only vacancy, when the carrier returned to Pearl Harbor for resupply, was for a dive-bomber pilot flying a two-man Dauntless.

James had accepted the position, despite it delaying his dreams of sitting in the cockpit of a real fighter. He knew from others in the fleet that the Dauntless dive-bomber was slow and uncomfortable on long flights. It did have a rear gunner armed with a .30 calibre machine gun, but only one .50 mounted in the engine cowling. It was the thousand-pound bomb under the belly and the two-hundred-pound bombs attached under each wing that made the Dauntless an aircraft much feared by the Japanese navy. The Dauntless also had a reputation for being able to take heavy punishment from ground and air fire.

James’s rear gunner was a marine sergeant, Angelo Silvestro, who had grown up in the tough Italian neighbourhood of the Bronx in New York. Silvestro was a short swarthy man who had enlisted in 1938 and transferred to marine aviation on the outbreak of the war in the Pacific. James knew that although his gunner paid him the respect due to a senior officer, he had not yet accepted him, and wouldn’t until he had proved himself on a combat mission.