The Dead Alone (Empires Lost Book 3)

by Charles S. Jackson

  “You’re a hard woman to argue with,” Watson observed with a wry smile, shaking his head.

  “I hear that all the time,” she shot back with a grin as Lloyd and Langdale both smirked behind her, nodding in silent agreement.

  “Keep safe,” Watson offered to all three of them, nodding and immediately turning to search for his daughter. “Victoria…?”

  “Yes, doctor…?” Victoria Watson responded immediately, standing a few metres away, leaning over a patient’s stretcher in the middle of the dirt track outside the hospital. She was always careful to maintain a professional manner when interacting with her father in a work environment.

  “We need to go, dear,” he explained as another flight of enemy fighters howled low overhead, flinching as they passed and allowing his own work façade to slip slightly as a result. “There’s a truck waiting to take us to Halong so we can continue working there.”

  “But… but, there are still so many that need care, doctor…” she protested, moving quickly to his side and forcing herself to avoid using the word ‘father’. “They all need our help; especially the ones the lorry can’t take…”

  “That’s my grand girl,” Watson smiled sadly, almost overwhelmed by his emotions in that moment. “So much of your mother in you…” He nodded sadly. “You’re right; they do need our help… but I’ll not have you in danger. Doctor Renne is staying on until everyone’s out, and they’ll need us at the other end. We need to be on this truck, so let’s go… now…!”

  “Don’t think I can’t hear your stupid heads rattling,” Eileen snapped sharply, fighting to subdue a grin of her own as she rounded on the two SAS men, both of them instantly attempting to appear as insincerely innocent as possible. “If we’re going to bloody walk, we’d best get moving… Fancy a race…?” She added with a raised eyebrow.

  “Do I look like some gullible bloody Yank…?” Lloyd shot back quickly, bending to collect the large backpack that lay by his feet. Well aware of Eileen’s prowess as a marathoner, he was referring to a particular incident two years earlier in which a newly-arrived Richard Kransky had been conned into engaging in a long-distance run, expecting to ‘go easy’ on her and instead finding himself outraced and driven to exhaustion.

  “Och, you’re no fun…!” Eileen dismissed with a sour grimace.

  “Wouldn’t we be better off sticking with Gull Force?” Lloyd asked dubiously as the other two shouldered their own packs in preparation for departure. “No offence to the Dutch, but I for one would rather have Aussies at my back when this goes down… which we all know it will…”

  “You and me both; on both counts,” Eileen agreed grimly as Langdale also nodded silently in the background. “We head that way however and we run an excellent chance of being cut off completely on the peninsula… if we make it to Halong or Paso, we at least still have a chance of making it back to Laha and relative safety on the other side of the bay. Believe me, given the option I’d much rather have Roach and his boys at my back than a load of barely-trained bloody native conscripts: the poor buggers won’t know what hit ‘em.”

  “Guess we’d best get on then,” Lloyd shrugged, not liking the reality of the situation but nevertheless unable to fault Donelson’s reasoning. “Ladies first…”

  “So I am a lady, now?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking to you,” Lloyd replied, blowing a kiss to Langdale as the SAS sergeant flipped him the bird behind Eileen’s back. “Shall we…?”

  “Captain…! Ma’am…!” As all three turned, they were presented with the sight of a young lieutenant and a markedly older sergeant approaching at the head of a small group of German prisoners, Detmers, Horst and a wounded but mobile Oetzel among them.

  “Ma’am, we’re not sure what to do with this lot… Most of the POWs were taken away by the Dutch earlier, but they conveniently forgot to check the hospital for stragglers. I need to get back to my unit but we can’t take these buggers with us. The top Jerry here reckoned you might know what to do…”

  “Is that so, lieutenant...?” Donelson enquired with a faint scowl, not sure whether to direct it at him or at Detmers. “How inconvenient for you.”

  “We were seeing to our wounded,” Detmers explained slowly, nodding his head slightly in recognition of the situation. “Those we have with us were all who were able to walk – the doctor has assured us the others will be transported as soon as a vehicle can be secured.”

  “Welcome to my world, captain,” Eileen replied drily, readily able to sympathise. She raised an eyebrow as a thought occurred to her. “Are you sure you boys actually want to come with us? The Japs will no doubt be advancing through here in a few hours… perhaps you might be better served staying put?”

  “A fine idea in theory, captain,” Detmers pointed our sourly, “ however I’m not entirely convinced our ‘allies’ will make distinctions between prisoners and Australian soldiers as they advance: Your own forward scouts have already witnessed atrocities and the summary execution of natives and surrendered defenders alike at the beachhead – I’m not confident they’ll ask questions before reaching for their swords.”

  “It’s true, ma’am,” the sergeant piped up from beside Detmers. “Saw the buggers meself earlier from up at the OP; usin’ their bayonets and choppin’ the heads off o’ some poor bastards just for the fun of it, they was. Only saw it from a distance, but they didn’t look like they were makin’ introductions first…”

  “All right, then…” Eileen sighed in exasperation after a moment’s thought. “It’s fine, lieutenant: we’ll take them from here. Your men can walk well enough, captain…?” She added, directing that question at Detmers.

  “Well enough,” he confirmed without hesitation. “Those of us who are uninjured will ensure the others keep up.”

  “Looks like you’ll have to put up with us for a bit longer, then,” Donelson observed with a thin smile.

  “Strange as it seems, captain, we have been shot at by our allies and our own countrymen, and so far your group is the only one I have found I can trust implicitly,” Detmers remarked almost with sadness as the Australian lieutenant and NCO made their hasty farewells and quickly disappeared.

  “We did fire at you also,” Donelson pointed out, not particularly happy about the fact that the Sydney had inflicted so many casualties upon the man’s crew.

  “It was my order to open fire first, if I remember clearly, captain,” he shrugged matter-of-factly. “Your ship responded in kind – there is no dishonour in that. At all times since however, you have consistently kept your word and acted honourably; more than I can say for either my own colleagues or allies. For the moment, we’ll take our chances in your company if that is acceptable…”

  “Well, we’d best be off then,” she suggested with forced cheer, nodding her tacit acceptance. “We’ve a good three or four mile hike ahead of us with an entire bloody Japanese invasion force heading our way: I suspect it’d be best for all of us if we didn’t hang about.”

  "What have we got, mate?” Lieutenant Jinkins asked in a hushed whisper, crouching down behind thick cover with Lance Corporal Tibbett and watching the bob of helmeted heads below as Japanese troops made their way inexorably up the slope toward them.

  “About three hundred of the bastards, I reckon,” Tibbett replied sourly, lowering his field glasses and shaking his head. “They want the summit, sure enough, and I reckon they know we’re here, too.”

  “Bloody oath, they do,” Jinkins agreed immediately. “They’ve had recon flights zooming about overhead all afternoon: they’d have to be bloody blind not to know someone’s up here. Bugger…!” He added, unable to see any immediate solution for their predicament.

  Jinkins had been ordered to gather the rest of his platoon and defend their position atop Mount Nona. The summit offered perfect views right down the ocean on both sides of the Latimor Peninsula, and as such it was a high-priority strategic position of immense value to Australians and Japanese alike. There’d been no
doubt in Roach’s mind that the enemy would try to take the high ground there to gain an advantage, and the appearance of the approaching troops below, although unpleasant to say the least, had certainly been no surprise. That nevertheless still left Jinkins’ platoon and one other, commanded by Lieutenant Sam Anderson, with the unenviable task of holding fast against what appeared to be several hundred Japanese soldiers advancing up the mountain’s northern slope.

  “Well, we’ve got ammo enough and a couple of boxes of rifle grenades,” Jinkins shrugged by way of resignation. “We should be able to give the buggers a bloody nose at least. Have the boys set up the gun over by that outcrop there on the left – they should have a good field of fire from there – and let Sam know what’s what: we’ll need him to cover our left flank if the bastards try to slip past us.”

  Tibbett gave a single nod and was gone in an instant, disappearing through the underbrush as Jinkins checked his assault rifle and deployed the rest of his platoon for the coming engagement.

  The Australians opened fire at a distance of perhaps 100 yards, sending a hail of slugs from automatic weapons and bolt-action rifles into the head of the advancing column. Smoke and dust from gunfire and exploding grenades quickly filled the surrounding area and cut visibility substantially, the ensuing chaos accompanied by the agonized screams and cries of wounded and dying Japanese cut down in the initial volley of fire.

  In the ensuing confusion, a few enterprising Japanese soldiers managed to push to within 30 yards of their left flank, calling out in broken English and claiming to be retreating, native Ambonese troops. The Aussies were having none of it, and a second intense, brutal firefight broke out at close quarters that resulted in the attacking Japanese again being forced to retreat back down the mountain under covering fire.

  “Casualties…!” Jinkins called out as loudly as he dared, preferring to avoid drawing any further fire from their retreating enemy. “Who’s down… who’s been hit…?”

  “Two down,” Tibbett called back from cover, five yards away, ducking instinctively as several bursts of automatic fire sizzled past overhead, far too close for comfort. “And me…” he added as Jinkins threw a concerned glance in his direction.

  “You okay…?”

  “Rotten mongrels shot me in the bum…!” The NCO replied reluctantly as Jinkins, in recognition of the seriousness of the situation, tried hard not to react with a nervous grin. “I’ll live – just a nick – but it bloody hurts…! Always knew the Japs would be a pain in the arse…!” He added, managing a grin of his own and drawing a snort of laughter from his platoon commander.

  “We can’t bloody stay here forever, and that’s for sure,” Jinkins observed quietly, mostly talking to himself as he glanced nervously about at the smoke-filled mountainside. “They won’t make the same mistake again; we need to pull back to better positions…”

  Keeping low, he moved quietly past Tibbett and worked his way across to their left flank, meaning to discuss the situation with his fellow officer commanding the other defending platoon.

  “Sam…!” He called out, gaining the attention of several of the closer platoon members but receiving no immediate response from his colleague. “Sam…! You there, mate…?”

  “I’m here…” came the faint and clearly pained answer from somewhere off to the far left of their position. “They got me, Bill… grenade… me legs have had it…”

  “Hold fast then, mate: we’ll come and get you,” Jinkins fired back.

  “No point: I’m done for. Leave me and get the boys out of here…”

  “Bullshit, Sam; we’ve lost too many already…!” Jinkins growled, shaking his head and ignoring the incoming fire overhead as he shared some knowing glances with the other men around him, receiving solemn nods of silent agreement in return. “We’re not leaving you to the bloody Japs, mate: you just hold fast and we’ll be over in a jiffy! Archie…!” He continued, directing that call to the man beside him. “Give us a hand with him, will you?”

  “No worries, Bill,” Private Buchanan answered without hesitation, slinging his old Lee Enfield over his back in preparation as Jinkins nodded his thanks.

  They made their way carefully through the undergrowth, reaching Lieutenant Anderson’s position a few moments later.

  “Bloody hell, Sam: sucker for attention, you, aren’t ya?” Jinkins suggested with a forced smile, administering a shot of morphine from his first aid pack and trying to make light of the situation.

  “You know me, Bill: always ready to stir up some trouble…” Anderson shrugged weakly, forcing back a groan of agony as Buchanan attended to terrible wounds on the man’s legs, doing his best to staunch the flow of blood with a cluster of shell dressings.

  “Bill; we’ve got more bloody Japs pushing up toward us!” That warning came from another of Jinkins’ platoon as the private burst through the scrub and slid to the ground beside them, pursued by a fusillade of machine gun fire. “Lance reckons maybe five hundred of the buggers now…”

  “Bloody hell, Kenny, you’re full of good news, aren’t ya,’ Jinkins observed with a grimace. “You’ll come in handy, though: give us a hand with him the, seein’ as you’re here.”

  Between them, the three men lifted Lieutenant Anderson and carried him back to the main group with as much care as they could manage, bringing down a hail of fire from which they miraculously escaped completely unscathed. With the remaining men of both units now all together, Jinkins ordered them back up the hill in search of more defensible positions.

  Eileen, Lloyd and the rest of the group managed to get no more than half a mile down the road before they were met by the remnants of the evacuated wounded coming back from the opposite direction in complete disarray. The truck they’d loaded with patients was with them, quite tellingly displaying evidence of bullet holes that had definitely not been there earlier. Even more telling was the fact that several platoons of Australian infantry accompanied them in a similar state of confusion.

  “Are ye both all right?” Eileen called, leaping up onto the running board of the truck as it pulled to a halt before her.

  “Aye, well enough,” Watson conceded, his face covered in soot and looking decidedly shaken. “The bastards ambushed us on the track near Galala… ripped through us like we weren’t even there.” Beside him, Victoria was wide-eyed and silent, seeming almost shell-shocked in her fear although there were tracks on her stained cheeks where tears had been flowing freely. It was at that moment Eileen realised the NCO seated beside her on the other side was not the same man who’d been at the wheel earlier, and she thought better of asking questions regarding the starred holes that had been punched into the windscreen in front of the driver’s position.

  “Is she all right?” Eileen asked again softly, her eyes flicking across to his oblivious daughter.

  “Poor bugger got hit right next to her,” Watson explained with a shake of his head. “It’s nae struck home yet, I’ll warrant, but it will. She’ll manage though; she’s tougher than she looks…”

  “Stay close…” Eileen suggested, nodding in response jumping down from the truck as she turned to cast her eyes across the soldiers mixed in with the returning wounded. “Sergeant…!” She bellowed loudly, picking out a senior NCO and jogging across to where he walked alone to one side of the track, displaying a noticeable limp in one leg.

  “Ma’am…” he acknowledged immediately, coming to attention as best he could with a faint wince of pain and providing a salute.

  “What’s happened, sergeant? We’ve heard nothing: what’s going on down the road there?”

  “They smashed us, ma’am,” he answered with weary simplicity, shifting his rifle from one shoulder to the other. “Most of B-Company’s been set up south of here, between Ambon and Kudamati, but Major Westley sent my platoon up toward Galala to help the native troops. There was only maybe three platoons of us at most, and they hit us with a whole bloody battalion at least, with tanks in support… cut through us like bloody paper
. Lucky for us they turned north toward Halong, otherwise I don’t reckon any of us ‘d be here…”

  “We’ll need to head south then,” Eileen mused, not happy to hear that their best path of escape had been cut off.

  “That’s no good either, ma’am,” he ventured with a shake of his head. “We’ve had a runner come through twenty minutes ago to advise they’ve got Japs pushing up through the jungle toward Kudamati from the east as well. They’ve got us caught in a bloody trap right enough, and the native buggers we were with were already hearing rumours that the Dutch are thinking about surrender…”

  “Surely not…?” Eileen exclaimed, horrified by the thought.

  “Hope not, ma’am, but they were all pretty worried… reckoned their officers had already shot through, and I’ll tell you straight, I never saw any Dutchman over the rank of lieutenant while I was there.”

  “You right to fight, sergeant…?”

  “Couple of splinters in me leg, ma’am, but nothing to write home about,” he answered with a shrug. “I can still shoot well enough.”

  “Then I’ll ask you to gather the rest of your platoon and come with us,” she countered, thinking on the fly as she hefted her own weapon in one hand. “We’re going to need every able body we’ve got ready with a rifle. Speak to Captain Lloyd over there,” she continued, pointing the man out with her free hand, “and he’ll direct you further.”

  “Ma’am…!” He acknowledged, saluting again and moving off as quickly as he was able.

  “Medic…! Medic…!” That call came from off to the south, back toward the main barracks buildings, and even as Eileen and a number of others turned in that direction, Watson was already out of the truck and jogging across toward the call, a small canvas bag in one hand, Victoria keeping pace directly behind him.

  Eileen made her way over also at a more leisurely pace, joined halfway by Lloyd as both Watsons fussed over a wounded officer being carried on a stretcher by two Australian soldiers. Even from a distance, they could clearly see the man was seriously wounded, one leg entirely covered in blood from the thigh down, with several completely sodden shell dressings obviously not having any beneficial effect.