Corrigan's Run

by Colin Falconer

  He fired two more shots and was astonished to see the two Japanese fall backwards down the slope into the thick jungle. He looked behind him. Hogan stood up, grinning, a wisp of cordite around the barrel of his .303.

  ‘Used to do a spot of duck-shooting along the Diamantina when I was a kid. Haven't lost my touch it seems.’

  Manning ran towards the machine gun. He heard Hogan shout a warning. The gunner, his tunic soaked with blood where Manning’s bullet had passed cleanly through his chest, was sitting up, calmly removing a grenade from his belt. He already had the pin between his teeth.

  Manning realized he could never bring up his revolver in time to fire, and he was standing directly between the wounded gunner and Hogan, blocking his line of fire.

  There was nothing he could do.

  The man's face exploded into a pulp of cherry red. He jerked backwards, the grenade falling harmlessly into the undergrowth, the safety pin intact.

  Foster looked almost as shocked as Manning.

  ‘Christ, son,’ Hogansaid. ‘You did something right for a change.’

  *****

  Rachel crawled down the slope to retrieve Lavella's rifle. She saw more Japanese soldiers struggling up the path towards them. She grabbed the rifle and scrambled back to the shelter of the rocks.

  She heard the machine gun chatter to life again.

  When the first burst from the machine gun cut down three of his men, Kurosawa was too stunned to react. But as another volley snaked up the jungle path towards him, he shook off his surprise and threw himself behind a palm tree. The heavy bullets slapped into the trunk a few inches from his head.

  He dragged himself through the tangle of liana towards his corporal. ‘They have taken the gun!’

  ‘But that's impossible!’ the corporal shouted. ‘How did they get out of the gully?’

  ‘I don't know how! It doesn't matter how! Just get it back. Take half a dozen men and circle back! Hurry!’

  Kurosawa tried to think it through. What had happened? Had they stationed some of their men at the bridge instead of on the ridgeback?

  Or had the girl lied to them?

  He hadn't seen their informer since they started the attack. Could it all have been an elaborate trap?

  The answers would have to wait. He crawled on his belly through the undergrowth and back up the ridge, bullets whipping over his head.

  *****

  ‘Me bugger up properly now.’ Sergeant Lavella's clenched his teeth tight against the pain. Rachel fashioned a tourniquet out of his shirt and staunched the flow of blood. But the femur was smashed and he could not stand never mind walk.

  The rope bridge was so close. The machine gun was firing bursts into the undergrowth either side, and three Japanese soldiers lay dead on the path that led down to it, cut down by their own gun.

  She didn't understand what was happening. All she knew that against all odds, there was a way out. ‘Try to stand up. I'll carry you,’ Rachel said.

  Lavella shook his head. ‘No Missy. You go. You run. I for die finis now.’

  ‘I’ll not leave you here. Get up!’

  Lavella sat up and pointed over her shoulder. ‘Missy!’

  Rachel span around. A Japanese officer was climbing up the ridge path towards them. She reached for the rifle, but she was too late.

  He was just a few yards away. He raised his revolver and pointed it straight at her chest.

  Chapter 65

  Rachel remembered Lieutenant Kurosawa from that day at the Mission; the last time she had seen him, she and her uncle had served him scones and tea. Kurosawa remembered her too, and the shock of recognition made him hesitate. It was not in his nature to make war on women.

  Corrigan overtook Corporal Solomon, who was still battling up the trail behind him. Corrigan had two rifles and a box of ammunition clutched in one hand and when he reached the brow of the ridge Kurosawa saw him and pointed his revolver at him. Corrigan stopped dead in his tracks.

  Before Kurosawa could pull the trigger Rachel picked up Sergeant Lavella's rifle and shot him through the heart.

  Kurosawa found himself staring at the sky, the white mountains of cloud fading to a fuzz of pink gauze, heard the monks chanting once again on the mountains of Nara . . .

  The human body is frail and mortal. . . ... it has no power as the earth has none, ... it has no durability as the wind has none, ... it is transient and sure to die.

  *****

  Ratings first class Ian Kennedy and Joseph McFaul watched the squad of Japanese soldiers circling the machine gun position on the lip of the knoll. Hogan, Foster and Manning were concentrating their efforts on the path up to the ridge and had not seen them.

  Silently the two riflemen slipped through the undergrowth to intercept them.

  The thick vines and tangled lianas slowed their progress; they were almost too late. When McFaul got there, the Japanese corporal leading the squad was just a few yards away from the gun. He lay on his side, almost invisible in the dense jungle. He removed a grenade from his belt but before he could throw it, McFaul raised the .303 to his shoulder and fired, the bullet blowing away the back of the man's skull.

  The rest of his squad panicked. Shaken by this second unexpected attack, they got to their feet and ran. Kennedy fired twice and saw one of them fall. Hogan, now alerted to the danger, swung the Nambu around and fired off two quick bursts. Three more fell, and the others disappeared into the jungle.

  Kennedy, his finger still curled around the trigger of his rifle, advanced slowly down the slope to the body of the dead Japanese corporal and turned the body over with his boot. The grenade lay under the man's body.

  He bent down and picked it up, stuffing it into the pocket of his tunic.

  ‘Souvenir,’ he said to McFaul, grinning. ‘But what I really wanted was a sword.’

  *****

  Manning was afraid that Rachel and Sergeant Lavella might already be dead. Leaving Foster and Hogan to the gun he took off through the alang alang grass. Halfway down he heard someone crashing through the ferns towards him. He dropped on to one knee, aimed his revolver, and waited.

  ‘Corrigan!’

  ‘Manning! Christ, am I pleased to see you!’

  He had Sergeant Lavella slung across his shoulders, and the left side of his shirt was soaked with blood. He couldn’t tell if the blood was Corrigan’s or the sergeant’s. Rachel appeared out of the jungle behind him. Corporal Solomon took up the rear, carrying the rifles and ammunition they had saved from the camp.

  ‘Thank God you're all right.’

  ‘I'd hardly call this all right. We've got half the Nip army breathing down our bloody necks.’

  ‘England's proud of you, Patrick. You've done a fine job.’

  ‘Bugger England. Get us out of here.’

  *****

  ‘You go, you go,’ Lavella was saying. ‘My turn for hero now.’

  ‘We're not leaving you behind,’ Manning told him.

  ‘Yes, yes, Japoni he catchim you. This one Sergeant Lavella too heavy too mus. Leave me with that feller chatter-chat.’

  ‘What's he talking about now?’ Corrigan said.

  ‘He wants to stay behind with the machine gun. Cover us while we get across the bridge.’

  ‘Somebody's got to.’

  Hogan ran down through the trees, Foster close behind him. ‘Let's get out of here!’

  Sergeant Lavella turned to Corporal Solomon. ‘You fella volunteer orright. You take me longa chatter-chat quick time!’

  Corporal Solomon sighed. The slim hopes he had held for his survival had suddenly evaporated. But even now, he dare not disobey the redoubtable Lavella. ‘Yo-i sergeant,’ he mumbled.

  Solomon put his arm under Lavella's body and lifted him to his feet. Resting Lavella's weight on his shoulder Solomon dragged him up the knoll towards the gun.

  *****

  When Lieutenant Tashiro reached the crest of the ridge he stared around in utter disbelief. Kurosawa was dead, shot thro
ugh the chest. Half his platoon lay sprawled on the twisting path leading up from the valley, dead or badly wounded.

  What had gone wrong?

  He raised his field glasses. He could see the English spies at the foot of the ridge, heading for the rope bridge across the gorge. He screamed at his men to hurry. If they crossed the bridge they could cut it down behind them and he would lose them in the jungle.

  Tashiro set off after them. The trees and bushes around him erupted into screaming, crashing fury as Sergeant Lavella opened up with the captured Nambu machine gun.

  Sergeant Lavella had never fired a machine gun before. It was the crowning achievement of a life dedicated to the random discharge of firearms, and if it was to be his last act, he had decided to make his end fitting and glorious.

  Unfortunately, he knew nothing about the operation of such a weapon, and Manning had had no time to coach him. Lining up his target in the sights along the barrel he squeezed the trigger - and kept it there.

  He did not know that the barrel of a machine gun constantly jerks upwards and that he should sight the gun lower than the target to compensate. All he knew was that it made a wonderful noise and he blasted away, blindly, his finger clamped on the trigger, smashing down saplings and spraying the jungle with tree bark, leaves and dead birds. But his efforts were enough to keep Tashiro and his men pinned down for valuable minutes.

  Down at the bridge, Manning heard the uninterrupted hammering of the gun and he turned in anguish to Corrigan. ‘He's going to jam it,’ he said.

  On cue, the gun fell silent.

  ‘Get across!’ Corrigan shouted at Manning. ‘Hurry!’

  Corrigan pushed Manning and Rachel ahead of him, but Rachel froze. ‘I can't!’ she screamed.

  ‘Jesus, not now!’ Corrigan said. Manning took her hand and started to pull her across. Rachel closed her eyes and stumbled after him.

  *****

  When they reached the far bank Rachel sank to her knees, shaking. She looked over her shoulder. The Japanese were swarming down the path on the far side. She saw the flash from the muzzles of their Arisakas and a fraction of a second later heard the echoes of rifle fire.

  Hogan and Foster had made it across but Corrigan and the other two sailors were still climbing up the swaying bridge. There was no way they could make it across now.

  Hogan and Foster fired back across the gully. McFaul made the far side of the bridge. Corrigan and Kennedy were still ten yards behind him.

  ‘Use your knife,’ Corrigan screamed at McFaul. ‘Cut the rope!’

  But just as McFaul pulled the knife from his belt a bullet hit him in the head, and he died before he hit the ground. Manning crawled over to him, pulled the knife out of his hand. They had to cut down the bridge. It was their only chance of escape.

  Kennedy screamed and fell onto his knees. Corrigan went back for him.

  He was coughing blood, spraying it everywhere. He held up his hand and shook his head. ‘I’m not going to make it.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out the grenade he had taken from the Japanese corporal. He pulled out the pin. ‘Go,’ he croaked.

  Corrigan scrambled hand over hand up the last few slats. He threw himself off just as the grenade exploded. When he looked back over his shoulder, the rope bridge was snaking down into the torrent of the river a hundred feet below. Kennedy - what was left of him - followed it in.

  *****

  Somewhere on the ridge, unseen by the Japanese or any of Manning's band, Corporal Solomon hefted a bleeding Sergeant Lavella onto his shoulders and hesitated briefly on the brink of the yawning, roaring chasm. Then he jumped, and the two men disappeared in the raging waters below.

  *****

  ‘She's not coming,’ Hogan said, echoing all their thoughts.

  They searched the black horizon, searching for the flicker of light that was to be their signal. It did not come.

  Nerves, already raw from the battle on Mount Teatupa, were now stretched past breaking point as they huddled together in the sand. They had little ammunition left, and no food. Hogan had lost two of his men, Manning the constables who had stood by him from the beginning.

  ‘Maybe the Japs spotted it,’ Manning said.

  Hogan nodded. ‘I'd say that was certain. The skipper was a good bloke. There's no way he would have left us here.’

  There was a long, brooding silence. ‘What do we do now, sir?’ Foster said.

  ‘If you're a rating you shut up and wait for someone to give you an order,’ Hogan growled.

  ‘What he means, son, is he hasn't got the faintest idea,’ Corrigan said, a little more kindly. ‘And neither has anyone else.’

  ‘They'll be back,’ Manning said. ‘We just have to sit tight and wait.’

  ‘That's what I love about you,’ Corrigan said. ‘You're an incurable optimist.’ Corrigan collapsed on the sand to sleep.

  Hogan fetched the medical kit from the cache of supplies they had hidden in the jungle the night they landed. Rachel redressed Corrigan's shoulder, packing the wound with sulphonamide. But that night he slept fitfully, his face was flushed with fever.

  The poison’s going to spread to the rest of me soon, he thought. Rescue or not, I’m done for.

  Chapter 67

  Wesu found the small group huddled beneath a callophyllum tree a hundred yards from the beach. Two of the villagers, out hunting wild pig, had spotted them earlier that morning. Crouching behind a large fern, Wesu took stock; there were five of them, four white fellers and a white mary. Two of the men were dressed all in white, and had shooting sticks, and stood guard on the perimeter of the coconut grove. Their eyesight, he realized with disappointment, was almost as bad as the japoni soldiers. He was only a few yards away - he could have reached out to touch the younger one - but they still had not seen him.

  He recognized the white kiap straight away, but the white missus who had saved his father's life had changed very much. When she had come to the village to help his father she was a pale, frightening creature who looked more like a ghost spirit. She always wore a long white dress and an enormous hat; now she was brown-limbed and wore a tapa cloth and ragged white shirt. She was asleep with her head against the trunk of a tree, her hair wild and falling over her face.

  He knew the other white feller too. It was the one who had brought her to Marmari Point on the mysterious Cargo boat.

  Satisfied, Wesu stood up.

  Foster, standing on guard a few feet away, yelled in shock and raised his rifle. Wesu grinned, bobbing his head.

  ‘You b’long King George and Virgin Mary?’ Wesu said.

  ‘Bloody hell, a nig-nog,’ Foster said. ‘I thought you were a Jap!’ His hands were shaking. He put down his rifle and urinated urgently against a nearby tree. Hogan swore under his breath.

  ‘Wesu happy too mus,’ Wesu said. ‘Japoni say you for die.’

  Rachel woke up when she heard the yelling and stood up. ‘Wesu,’ she said.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Manning said.

  ‘Who’s this?’ Corrigan said.

  ‘Wesu,’ Rachel answered. ‘Don't you remember him?’

  Corrigan looked blank.

  ‘That time you took me to Marmari Point ... the operation we performed in the village there? That was his father.’

  Corrigan raised an eyebrow. ‘How is the old bugger? Dead, I suppose.’

  Wesu shook his head. ‘He not die from sick. But japoni they come, kill him dead.’

  ‘They murdered him?’

  ‘Cut off him head b'long sword. We fright for japoni here.’

  ‘Why did they kill him?’

  ‘They lookim for kiap.’ Wesu nodded his head in Manning's direction.

  Manning bowed his head. ‘Your father was a good man. I'm sorry.’

  Wesu looked back at Rachel, then at Corrigan. ‘You wantim boat?’

  ‘What boat?’ Corrigan said.

  ‘Boat belong you. Gods they bringim for you, plenty cargo too. We look out for him.’
<
br />   ‘I don't understand,’ Rachel said.

  ‘You come. I show you,’ he said.

  *****

  The palm trees on Marmari Point bowed over the white fringe of beach. The tree line was broken in places where the canoe houses jutted out from the green jungle. A tendril of smoke drifted upwards from the village compound. He remembered the first time he had come here, that night of the first monsoons, almost a year ago; it was just another dirty village to him then. Now it was an oasis.

  The canoe house appeared unexpectedly from the jungle as they followed Wesu along the path. It was hidden behind the first line of palms, invisible from the bay, built from sago leaf and sturdy teak poles. But this was no ordinary canoe house. What was it doing so far from the village? Corrigan wondered. And there were walls on all four sides.

  Why?

  Wesu stopped and pointed proudly. Corrigan found a small opening, lowered his head and walked inside.

  ‘Jesus, Mary, Joseph and All the Blessed Saints of Heaven,’ he murmured.

  It was the Shamrock.

  ‘You see how our good deeds return to bless us tenfold?’ Rachel said somewhere behind him.

  Corrigan turned and looked at her. She had a infuriatingly benign expression on her face. He supposed it ran in the family. ‘I don't understand,’ he said.

  ‘Wesu says they found her drifting in the lagoon. It must have been the morning after you raided Marakon. They couldn't understand why you left her behind. They took it as a warning from the gods not to betray the kiap. But they were frightened of the Japanese so they dragged her up on to the beach and built the boathouse around her.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘She brought Cargo. The Japanese had her stocked with bags of rice, tinned meat and cigarettes. Wesu thought it all came from his ancestor gods. The Shamrock's a holy shrine.’

  Corrigan shook his head in wonderment.