From the Stars Above

by Peter Watt

  ‘Thanks, boss,’ Terituba answered. ‘I got to keep an eye on Sergeant Duffy.’

  Major Mann grinned. ‘I am sure you do, corp.’

  ‘Patrick, I know you will be going on leave very soon, and you have a month to either accept or reject my offer. I hope you accept as our advisers have to be bloody good at their job, and that requires experience and a good head on your shoulders. You can contact me through BHQ when you decide. I will leave you two in peace to carry on, and say it has been grand catching up with you both.’

  With his parting words Major Mann strode away, leaving the two soldiers reflecting on the offer. At least it had also been offered to Terituba on the provision of passing the sergeant’s course, which was no simple thing. Terituba had steadily improved his education in the army and achieved high marks in the traditional subjects of English and Mathematics.

  When Major Mann was out of sight both men slumped back into their cane chairs.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Patrick said. ‘We come to this godforsaken place and the bastard still finds us.’

  ‘I heard you just about get to be your own boss out there in the sticks,’ Terituba said. ‘No bloody spit an’ polish in the barracks, an’ they got a place called Saigon where you can get anything you want. Beats what we are doin’ now. Anyway, the bigwigs are holding peace talks an’ soon this will all be over. That means we go home. I hate being in a peacetime army, painting rocks and doin’ guard duty.’

  ‘You have a good point there,’ Patrick said. ‘From what I have read it looks like Vietnam could turn into a real shooting war. The Vietnamese kicked the crap out of the French a few years ago, so they know how to fight.’

  ‘You still going to take leave in Singapore?’ Terituba asked, taking a swig from his rapidly warming beer. ‘I’m going home to Glen View for my leave.’

  ‘I just feel like going back to see the country since it became Malaysia. My enlistment will be up in six months, so if I take up the major’s offer I would have to sign on again – and who knows whether I’ll get another chance to go to Singapore.’

  Both men fell into a silence, reflecting on how Major Karl Mann’s unexpected reappearance in their lives might change any plans they’d had before this well-earned leave.

  *

  Sally Howard-Smith loved the growing vibrancy of Sydney. Television had brought European and American culture to the big island continent so isolated from the rest of the world, and she saw many of the young office girls imitating the fashions of Carnaby Street in London. Dresses were growing shorter and the night life more colourful.

  As a result of Sarah Macintosh’s hospitality, she had been introduced into Sydney’s wealthy social circles. She found the young men stuffy and boring, with their talk of rising in the public service or banking. She had dated a few but found herself unconsciously comparing them to Patrick Duffy, although she had no idea where he was and what he was like now.

  Then one day Sarah telephoned to inform her that the Adelaide Queen was currently docked in Singapore awaiting inspection before the final contracts were signed for its purchase. Sally telephoned her father in Hong Kong and he suggested she fly to Singapore to make a final inspection in the company of one of their maritime engineers.

  Before the end of the week, Sally was sitting in a room in one of Singapore’s most luxurious hotels overlooking the sea. She sipped her gin and tonic, gazing out at the mass of big and small ships below as the Asian city reclaimed its place as a crossing point of trade between East and West.

  *

  Sergeant Patrick Duffy was wearing a casual but smart set of civilian clothes of slacks and silk shirt. Out of his jungle greens he still looked like a professional soldier with his bearing and deep suntan. He had been able to afford the high rates for his accommodation thanks to the small but ever-growing inheritance from his mother’s estate, which was being overseen by Sean Duffy. Patrick had decided to live for the day and indulge himself away from the nerve-jangling operations of a jungle fighter.

  He, too, had a magnificent view of the water below and stood momentarily at the window, looking across the muddy waters at the sunset. It was time to ride the elevator down to the dining room and order the best seafood meal in town, to be washed down by a magnum of chilled champagne. He stepped into the corridor and walked to the elevator, pushed the button and heard the gentle clang as the doors opened for him to step in.

  It was then that he experienced a similar feeling to stepping on that mine, and from the expression on the face of the young woman staring back at him, it was as if she also had the same feeling.

  ‘Sally!’ Patrick gasped.

  ‘Patrick!’ Sally cried, and for a moment they simply stared at each other until the sound of the door beginning to close snapped Patrick from his shock and he stepped inside.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Sally half laughed, half gasped. ‘Is it really you?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Patrick smiled. ‘Because if it’s not me I’m in the wrong lift. What in hell are you doing here?’

  ‘I should ask you the same question. Are you still a soldier?’

  ‘I am afraid so. Are you still the lady of the lake?’

  Sally remembered their first meeting at the swimming pool so long ago, and when she looked him over she saw that he was even more handsome than she remembered. She suddenly felt a little insecure. Did he still feel that she was beautiful, as he had so often told her when they were in Malaya? She knew it was a silly thought, because so many men since Patrick had told her how beautiful she was.

  ‘I am just about to have dinner,’ Patrick said. ‘I hope you will accept my invitation to join an old soldier on leave.’

  ‘I was going to dine alone tonight, but your invitation sounds much better. I would be honoured to join you.’

  The lift came to a halt at the level of the dining room, and as they stepped out together Patrick felt Sally slip her arm under his. When they sat down at the table laid with the finest crystal and silver, they were silent for a moment, simply drinking in the sight of each other and wondering at the coincidence of being in the exact same place at the exact same time.

  Finally Sally broke the poignant silence between them. ‘I have to admit that I missed you, Patrick Duffy. It is as if there really is something called fate that has brought us together tonight.’

  Patrick reached across the table and took her hand. ‘Very soon I am going to wake up in the jungles and swamps of Borneo to find I was having yet another dream of the only woman I ever lost my heart to. I will blink and all this will disappear. Oh, I cannot tell you just how many years you have been in my thoughts. Maybe I should have called you Morgana, the woman who bewitched me forever.’

  Sally gazed into Patrick’s eyes and could still see the same gentleness, but it was now mixed with a haunted look. He was not the suave but untested type of man she had usually dated, but a tough and solid figure a woman could feel safe with. Then she remembered their passionate lovemaking at her father’s villa in Malaya and her face began to flush.

  They were hardly aware that the waiter took a long time delivering their first course. They were absorbed in catching up on the events that had shaped their lives, although Patrick said little about his current war in the jungles and swamps of Indonesia.

  ‘And so, here I am in Singapore to look over a cargo ship my father decided to purchase from the Macintosh companies in Sydney,’ finished Sally.

  ‘Macintosh?’ Patrick said. ‘Sarah Macintosh?’

  ‘Yes, do you know of her?’

  ‘She’s a distant relative,’ Patrick said. ‘I kind of grew up with her son, Michael.’

  ‘Another strange twist of fate,’ Sally said. ‘It could almost make one believe that there is a big wheel in the universe that simply goes around until it reaches the same point again. Like you and I meeting tonight in this place and at this point in time.’

&n
bsp; ‘Whatever it was that brought us together, all I know is that I will never let you go again,’ Patrick said.

  Sally did not reply but squeezed his hand. She was too practical to think that as long as this man was a soldier she could have a permanent relationship with him. As much as she felt an intense attraction to him, she also knew she could not give up her position with her father’s thriving enterprises to follow a soldier around the world or await his return from whatever battlefields were ahead. All she could do was live for this moment.

  That night proved all her memories of their passion. It was as if they had been born to love each other. Sally held Patrick in her arms as he slept against her breasts. She gazed through the open curtains of the large window at the twinkling lights of the boats in the harbour. Patrick began to whimper and tremble like a puppy, and she brushed his forehead with her fingers until he began to calm. Sally guessed he was once again in the jungles of his nightmares, and she suddenly understood why he was so different to the other men she had known. He was one of those that earlier cultures had called warriors.

  Patrick slowly woke. ‘Was I having a nightmare?’ he said sleepily. ‘Bloody too many of them lately.’

  ‘Go back to sleep and in the morning we’ll order breakfast in bed,’ Sally said.

  Patrick pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes to force away the remnants of the dreams of an exploding mine. ‘My term of enlistment will be up in a few months. My Uncle Sean wants me to come home and study law. He can article me at his firm, and he wants me to take it over when he finally retires. It would mean a few years before I saw any real money.’

  ‘Money is not a concern to me,’ Sally said. ‘But you would have to make that decision for yourself and not because of me.’

  ‘Us,’ Patrick said. ‘My decision would be made so we could have a future together.’

  Sally sighed. ‘My heart tells me we were meant to be together, but my head keeps asking how? Are you really able to break with the army?’

  Patrick turned away to stare out the window at the tropical darkness. His leave would be up in a week and he would have to return to soldiering for a few more short months. Just one more campaign, echoed in his mind as he recalled Major Mann’s offer. But then he returned his attention to Sally and knew he was looking at the most important thing in his life.

  NINETEEN

  Michael Macintosh gripped the rifle with sweating hands. Around him in the village he could hear the moans of wounded men, women and children, and the occasional scream of another victim of the Simbas. He stood at the corner of one of the stone houses that had once been the Belgian-Congo residence of the European colonial administrator, now long gone with his family.

  Flames from burning thatch roofs added to the oppressive heat of the midday sun. The small force of mercenary soldiers despatched to clear the village had fanned out to suppress any resistance from the dreaded Simbas. Most of the enemy wisely retreated, but a few drunken rebels remained in search of loot and rape. It was obvious that they had uncovered a stash of alcohol, and even inebriated they were dangerous with their Chinese rifles, pangas and spears.

  Michael quickly glanced around for his comrades but realised that he was temporarily alone. He could hear crashing around in the house he was to clear, and the terrified screams of a young girl, overridden by the guttural demands of a man in a language Michael did not understand. But he did know from the victim’s tone that she was in dire trouble. He heard a sickening crunch, and the girl’s screams suddenly stopped.

  Michael moved cautiously to the front door and was almost bowled over by a very large and muscular Simba wielding a panga. The sudden meeting of the two enemies took both men by surprise, but the Simba was already raising the razor-sharp panga above his head. Michael reacted immediately, thrusting his bayonet-tipped SLR directly into the man’s chest just as the panga came shearing down past Michael’s head.

  The Simba struggled against the bayonet in his chest, and Michael could smell rotting meat and alcohol on the dying man’s breath, so close were they locked together. The man dropped his panga, and Michael twisted the bayonet around in his chest until the Simba’s knees buckled and he slumped against Michael, then slithered down to the dry earth, almost pulling the rifle from Michael’s hands.

  Michael ripped the bayonet from the dead man and stared into the gloom of the hut. He was already hardened to the terrible sights of slaughter he and his companions had witnessed throughout the war against the rebels, but what he saw enraged him. A young woman in her teens lay decapitated beside a baby that had been disembowelled. Already the flies were gathering for a feast, and Michael stepped back, turned and drove the bayonet once more into the back of the corpse at his feet. It was a useless gesture, but the sight of the mutilated young mother and her baby had driven him into a rage. It was time to seek out more of the murdering men who purported to be rebels – and kill them.

  ‘Hey, Aussie!’ the voice of Frankie called from down the street. ‘Come and have a look at this.’

  Michael wiped the blood off his bayonet on the monkey-skin headdress of the Simba at his feet. He strode down the street strewn with discarded papers, and pots and pans to join his comrade, who was standing with his rifle pointed inside a house.

  There Michael saw a naked young girl, who he guessed was around fifteen years old, staring back at the two mercenaries. Her eyes were wide and gazing blankly at them. Michael guessed she was in a state of severe shock. Beyond her in the house, Michael could make out a pile of bloody bodies.

  ‘What you say we have a bit of fun with her?’ Frankie said. ‘She’s so far gone she wouldn’t know what’s happening.’ He took a step towards the girl but stopped when he felt the tip of the bayonet against the back of his head.

  ‘Take another step, Frankie, and I will blow your brains out.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, Aussie,’ Frankie said. ‘We’re pals. I watch your back and you watch mine. Is some little African floosie worth coming between us?’

  ‘You know the boss’s rules. No rape, no pillage.’

  Frankie turned to Michael. He had a smile on his face, sure that Michael would not shoot him. ‘We don’t have any allegiance to these people,’ he said. ‘We just get paid to kill Congolese rebels. These are not my people – or yours. We’re just hired killers.’

  ‘You may be right, but that girl has suffered enough. She is a human being like you and me.’

  Michael glanced over Frankie’s shoulder and could see the girl had begun to tremble uncontrollably. She was weeping, and sank to her knees with her hands over her eyes.

  ‘Hey, you two, what’s going on here?’ the voice of their officer called to them from the end of the street. ‘Get your arses back to the trucks. We got another village to clear.’

  Michael lowered his rifle, and Frankie spat on the ground at his feet.

  ‘I won’t forget that you pulled a gun on me today. You’d better be watching your own back from now on because I won’t be,’ Frankie snarled and then walked away down the street to the waiting trucks.

  Michael followed him, replaying the thinly veiled threat in his mind. How had it been that moments earlier they had been brothers in arms and now were deadly enemies? Maybe that was the nature of this occupation, where life was measured only in killing and money.

  *

  Sergeant Patrick Duffy returned to his unit and was met by Terituba.

  ‘Hey, how did your leave go?’ he asked with a broad grin. ‘You decided to sign on again and transfer to the training team?’

  Patrick unslung his kitbag and dropped it at his feet. He was still in his civvy clothes and knew he would have to change to be on parade within the hour.

  ‘I had time to think things over,’ Patrick said, accepting a cigarette from his best friend. ‘When my time is up, I’m not re-enlisting. I’m going to take up my Uncle Sean’s offer
to be his articled clerk.’

  For a moment Terituba stood staring open-mouthed at his friend. ‘Why would you want to do that when in a coupla of years you could make warrant officer with the company? You could be our CSM.’

  Patrick shifted uncomfortably. ‘I ran into someone I haven’t seen for years, and things happened.’

  ‘It had to be that sheila you met in Malaya,’ Terituba said with a scowl. ‘So you are letting a sheila break up the best team in the Australian Army?’

  ‘Cobber, it was not an easy decision to make. You and I have served together in two campaigns now, but I have to think about the future. I know that if you re-enlist, you’ll go far in the army.’

  ‘Bloody not right,’ Terituba said and walked away, leaving Patrick feeling very much alone. They had been together all their lives and now he had chosen to take a path away from his friend. A choice between love and war, and love had won. No doubt Sean would be very happy at his decision to go into law, but that did not ease his disquiet. How was he going to feel when he was safely at home, reading the papers about the war in Vietnam, knowing Terituba was in danger and he was not by his side?

  *

  The bridge at Kindu had to be held. Michael rested his rifle on sandbags at one end of the bridge, next to a machine-gun crew. He could not see Frankie as he had distanced himself from Michael after the incident with the girl in the village. The sun shimmered in the air in front of him and he quickly picked up the figures emerging from the jungle. A rapid estimation put their number at around two hundred and they were well armed. The order to ‘stand to’ had been issued to the defenders.