While the Moon Burns

by Peter Watt

  ‘Yes, sir, but I had three WIAs, one serious,’ David said. ‘I was hoping we might be able to get some reinforcements.’

  ‘Sorry, Major Duffy,’ the CO said, shaking his head. ‘However, we will have artillery and armour support – as well as those Yankee flame throwers – for the assault. I have briefed your fellow company commanders on the mission, so you are the only one left.’

  Using the sand model, the battalion CO briefed David on his mission. David learned that the attack would be from land and sea. A composite force would come ashore in Dove Cove whilst his company would be the vanguard of the land assault.

  ‘I have put you and your men up front because you are my most experienced company commander,’ the CO finished. ‘We have a reserve if you think you might be getting into trouble.’

  David thanked his CO and finished making notes in his field pad. It would be his job now to brief his own company senior leaders before they took the plan to their smaller sections so that each and every soldier knew what his role would be in the attack.

  Later that evening when David had rejoined the battalion in its bivouac – a clearing cut from the tall trees of the jungle ringed by gun and rifle pits – and had finished preparing his men for the assault, he had a little time to himself. It was only then that his thoughts turned to Allison, the woman he had fallen in love with in Sydney, and whose constant stream of letters helped him keep his sanity. David took great pains to hide his fear from his men, who considered him fearless. If only they knew, David thought as he looked down at his trembling hands. He often wondered how long he could keep up the charade before he finally cracked. How old was he, he mused, twenty-seven, twenty-eight? Even his exact age was something he had to think about now. Time was measured in minutes and seconds in the jungle. How many good men had he seen die in the years past? He felt a hundred years old.

  David knew he had to snap out of these maudlin thoughts. He reached into his pack for the pile of letters from Allison. All he had to do was simply hold them and he knew he had a reason to survive – no matter what. When the sun rose he would be leading his men into a heavily fortified Japanese position. He would once again hear the explosive sound of guns and the screams of men dying on either side, and smell the coppery, acrid stench of blood.

  *

  Sarah Macintosh sat at her father’s desk in his library, awaiting a visitor and pondering the future and the financial empire she had inherited, which spanned the nation and beyond. She had done the impossible, leading this vast enterprise as a young woman, when all the dictates of her time said this was impossible. A woman’s role was in the home, and ventures such as the one she had taken on were the sole domain of men. She realised that she was smashing all the taboos about a woman’s place in society and relished proving the grey-haired men of the Macintosh companies wrong in their chauvinistic assessment of her abilities. Had not she driven greater profits with her visions in business? Under her leadership the Macintosh name would one day be known to every Australian – and even to the wide world. Such were the aspirations of Sarah Macintosh. The war would end eventually and it seemed inevitable that the Japanese would be defeated. The men would return and her brother Donald would most probably challenge her right to run the great empire. There was also her cousin, David Macintosh, who by law had an equal share in the family company. But thankfully David had never shown any real interest in the world of commerce.

  Sarah felt no remorse for murdering her father. In her mind it was something that had to be done. Her father had not recognised how important it was to the Macintosh enterprise for the best person to be at the helm. Donald was not up to being that person, so her desperate measure was justified according to her cold logic. By killing her father she had ensured the great name of Macintosh would dominate into the future.

  As Sarah waited she fiddled with the bulging envelope on her desk. It contained a generous quantity of pound notes and she considered it money well spent. Eventually a young servant knocked on the door to say that Inspector Preston had arrived.

  The burly policeman entered the room wearing an expensive civilian suit, no doubt purchased on the black market. He did not bother to remove his hat as he slumped into a big leather chair.

  ‘I believe I should be offering my congratulations on your promotion, Inspector Preston,’ Sarah said.

  ‘So many of the boys are leaving the job to join up that I was shuffled up the ladder,’ Preston said, removing a packet of cigarettes, lighting one. ‘I’m sure you realise that my promotion means I’ll need a bit more in the packet than you have given me in the past.’

  Sarah nodded, pushing the packet envelope to the edge of the desk. ‘I anticipated as much,’ she said. ‘But I expect our arrangement to continue to be mutually rewarding.’

  Preston retrieved the envelope, slipping it into his pocket without checking the amount. Sarah Macintosh had always been faithful to their deal, made a couple of years earlier when Preston had concealed evidence proving the coroner’s decision to record Sir George Macintosh’s death as an accident was not correct. Sarah’s regular payments for his services as a corrupt cop had proved more generous than her father’s.

  Over the past couple of years they had formed an almost amicable relationship. Preston now also did shady favours for Sarah, in exchange for a little more in the regular envelope.

  Preston was in no rush to leave. He could read people well enough to see that Sarah had something on her mind. He was patient, and Sarah spoke.

  ‘How hard is it to commit a murder, and get away with it?’ she asked, poker-faced.

  ‘Well, you don’t want to be related to the person you have in mind,’ Preston said, equally poker-faced, blowing a smoke ring into the still air of the room. ‘My experience is that the person you think loves you is the one most likely to slit your throat. We always suspect the person closest to the deceased, and we are usually right. Most of the murderers I have arrested over the years have killed someone they love. Do you have your husband in mind?’

  ‘No, no, I was just asking a hypothetical question, Inspector,’ Sarah said calmly.

  ‘I have eyes and ears everywhere, Miss Macintosh, and I know you have a considerable list of male admirers. I suspect that your husband is ignorant of that, but no doubt will find out when he returns from the war. I also heard he does not want a divorce.’

  ‘There is always a chance my husband may not survive the war,’ Sarah said. ‘He has a reputation as a fearless fighter pilot. His luck could run out. As for the divorce – I will find a way if he returns.’

  ‘Just out of curiosity,’ Preston said, rising from his leather chair. ‘Who have you in mind to do away with?’

  Sarah feigned shock at the question, but did not fool the experienced police officer. She looked into his eyes, and could see that he knew.

  ‘Your brother?’ Preston continued.

  ‘No,’ Sarah answered. ‘Possibly someone not related to me. A person who is a threat to what I truly want.’

  Preston raised his eyebrows in surprise. Never before in his long career had he met a woman so devoid of all normal human feelings. He had heard that some people were born without a part of them that feels any empathy for others. Looking down on this beautiful young woman, he knew he was in the company of such a person.

  ‘Well, if you decide to tell me I’m sure that, for a good price, accidents can be arranged,’ Preston said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Thank you for your contribution to my retirement fund, Miss Macintosh. I will catch up with you.’

  Preston let himself out, leaving Sarah to ponder her dilemma. Other than owning the whole Macintosh empire outright, the only other obsession she had was for David Macintosh. He was, after all, the father of her son. The thought of possessing David was overpowering, and she knew he would see they were destined to be together.

  But there was one person who stood in her way – the wom
an David thought he loved. If she was gone then David would realise who he should really be with. Her former best friend, Allison, had to go.

  *

  The firing stopped as the Japanese soldier, who had barely survived the bombardment, melted back into the jungle.

  ‘He’s gone, sir,’ Donald’s sergeant said with a tone of disgust for the way his platoon commander had frozen in the face of a mere handful of bullets. ‘You are safe.’

  Donald rose to his feet and noticed the same expressions of disapproval on the faces of his men. He knew he had failed them and felt a shame he had never known before.

  ‘Sergeant, form the men up for the advance,’ he said.

  The sergeant nodded and the platoon plunged into the dense jungle spread across swampland. They sweated through around a thousand yards of the humid and hot terrain before encountering their first real resistance. A Japanese light machine gun opened up on Donald’s forward scout as he crossed open ground at the edge of the swamp. Donald’s men did not need an order to go to ground.

  Donald raised himself up to peer across the scrubby bush at the edge of the swamp, searching for the location of the enemy machine gun. He knew it was foolhardy to expose so much of himself, but he hoped his men would see him acting with some indifference to the danger.

  He lowered himself beside his sergeant.

  ‘Nip pillbox on the knoll ahead, twelve o’clock and a hundred yards out,’ he said. ‘Corporal Keen’s section will provide covering fire while the other two sections flank left and right. Get the section commanders to me for an O group.’

  The sergeant crawled away and within minutes Donald was briefing his three platoon section commanders.

  ‘Any questions?’ he asked when he had described how they would take out the Japanese machine gun concealed under a log and earth fortification. He could see a little more respect in the faces of his men after the orders group, and they snaked away to brief their own sections on the task ahead.

  Donald waited, and at the time he had set for the attack, his section, which had been tasked with providing cover fire, opened up just as the other two sections rose from the long grass to charge the pillbox. It was then that a well-hidden sniper on his flank took out one of his men with a clean shot. Donald saw the soldier stumble and pitch forward. He felt a flood of guilt. It became clear that there was not just one pillbox but several, camouflaged on and around the knoll. Machine-gun fire raked the advancing sections and they were forced to go to ground, returning small-arms fire and tossing grenades. Donald now knew what it meant to be a leader of men. They would live or die on the decision he made next.

  THREE

  Sarah usually met William Price in her office, but this time she had invited him to dinner at the stately Macintosh mansion overlooking the harbour. She felt comfortable enough with him to invite him into her home. After all, she knew he would be impressed by the wealth the house exuded, from the original oil paintings to the French furniture.

  After the servants had cleared away the plates William was invited to smoke cigars and drink port in the library. Sarah selected a vintage wine and the two stood by the great window overlooking the fine white gravel driveway and gardens. Once, magnificent horse-drawn carriages had swept up the driveway, but those days were gone. Now, only William’s car was parked in the driveway.

  ‘So, your enquiries amongst your contacts in Canberra have produced some results,’ she said.

  William took a thick folder of papers from his attaché case and spread them on the teak desk. ‘Your man, Mr Duffy, has a rather colourful past,’ he said as they both sat down. ‘From his military records I was able to ascertain that he enlisted in Townsville in the last war claiming he was of Indian descent, rather than Aboriginal. It seems in the last war Aboriginals were banned from enlisting. He was assisted in his enlistment by a prominent woman in Queensland, a Mrs Kate Tracy. He went on to serve on the Western Front and earned a reputation as a deadly sniper. The Germans nicknamed him the butcher. His company commander features a few times in Mr Duffy’s records. He once recommended that Mr Duffy should be considered for the Victoria Cross for individual acts of bravery. However, our government at the time realised that he was a man of colour and downgraded his recommendation to a Distinguished Conduct Medal instead. He also earned a Military Medal with bar.’

  ‘So, Duffy lied about his nationality when he enlisted,’ Sarah said. ‘I doubt we can use that against him under the current state of patriotism in this country.’

  ‘Ah, but this is where it gets interesting,’ William said, flipping a page of the file before him. ‘The company commander is a man called Jack Kelly, whose record is a bit shady. Before the last war he was a gold prospector who was caught by the Germans trespassing in New Guinea. As his mother was a German from South Australia he was able to convince the Germans they had made a mistake, and they let him go. I took the liberty of looking into Mr Kelly’s life and discovered that there are records of him having dubious contacts in the world of precious stones and metals. I was then able to contact a member of Mr Duffy’s battalion, who informed me that Kelly and Duffy were as close as any enlisted man and officer could be. He went on to say that there was a battalion legend that Tom Duffy may have found a fortune in diamonds during an assault on a French village. But my contact was not able to confirm the story.’

  Sarah’s mind was racing. ‘Where do we find this Jack Kelly character?’ she asked.

  ‘That will be a little hard,’ William sighed. ‘He is currently on active service with a Papua Infantry Battalion, somewhere in the Islands. Without corroboration from Kelly we cannot prove Duffy stole a fortune in precious stones. If we could put Jack Kelly before a court and force him to tell the truth we might have a strong case to show Duffy obtained Glen View using stolen money.’

  Sarah took a sip of her port and sat down at her father’s old desk. ‘We can only hope that the war ends soon,’ she said. ‘That way I can have Mr Kelly brought before a court to answer questions under oath.’

  ‘Why is it so important that you get some obscure cattle station?’ William asked.

  Sarah stared at William imperiously. ‘Because it is,’ she answered. ‘That property is part of my heritage, and I know Lady Enid would be turning in her grave if she knew it was in the hands of those damned Duffys – especially one with Aboriginal blood. It is not that the property has any intrinsic monetary value compared to the rest of the Macintosh holdings. It’s a matter of family honour to regain Glen View.’

  William shook his head. ‘I reckon you’re obsessed with the past,’ he said. ‘Here you are, the only woman I know who commands so much power in a man’s world, and yet all you appear to desire is getting back a heap of useless scrub and dirt.’

  ‘I am who I am because of the blood of those who came before me,’ Sarah said. ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’

  William rose from his leather chair to go to Sarah. ‘All I know is that you are the most desirable woman I have ever met,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why you don’t divorce your husband.’

  ‘You damned well know that is almost impossible without proof in court of infidelity, and I am not about to give the public any sordid details about my private life,’ Sarah said. ‘All those grainy photographs taken by private investigators skulking outside bedroom windows to prove an adulterous affair. It might be different if I could do that to Charles, but he is up north with his beloved fighter squadron.’

  William went down on his knees beside Sarah’s chair and took her hands in his. ‘You know that I love you,’ he pleaded. ‘I would do anything in my power to prove that to you.’

  Sarah looked into the forlorn face of her lover. ‘Love is just a word. The times that we are intimate are real, and that is all I need from you at the moment. Nothing more.’

  William rose to his feet. ‘I wonder why I stay around,’ he said bitterly. ‘If I didn’t kno
w any better, I would say you were using me.’

  Sarah smiled. ‘As you use my body for your pleasure,’ she said. ‘Now you know my rules.’

  ‘Damn you!’ he exploded. ‘I risked a lot getting my hands on this information.’

  ‘And you will be suitably rewarded,’ Sarah said, slowly unpinning her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. William knew she had this strange power over him, and hated himself for it. Sarah Macintosh was like some evil witch whose sensuality entrapped men.

  Suddenly, Sarah ceased her seduction. ‘I think you should go,’ she said to William, readjusting the clothing she had begun taking off.

  Confused, he stared at her. One moment she was ready to make love – or at least indulge in lust – and suddenly she turned cold.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ Sarah replied, glancing around the library, and William thought he saw fear in her expression. ‘I do not want the servants to know about us sharing in anything untoward that might affect my reputation.’

  ‘That’s not it,’ William said angrily. ‘It’s something else.’

  ‘It is nothing,’ Sarah said, gathering up the documents on her desk and placing them in the folder. ‘I will give you a call for a meeting at a later date,’ she said.

  He could see that Sarah was frightened but did not ask why. He had already learned she was a complex woman and that it was best to do what she said. He walked out of the library, leaving her with her fears.

  When he was gone, Sarah decided that she did not want to be left alone in the library. It had happened as she was beginning to undress. First was a sudden chill that came to the dimly lit room, followed by the strong and acrid smell of pipe tobacco. Her father had never smoked a pipe. With the aroma of pipe smoke had come the uneasy feeling she was not alone in the room with William. Why had William not experienced the subtle changes? Instinctively, Sarah stared at the arrangement of Aboriginal weapons that adorned the library wall. She knew they had been gathered up after a massacre of a clan of Aboriginal people on Glen View during the middle of the last century, and her father would rattle on about a curse on the family. Sarah did not believe in such superstitious nonsense, but the experience just now had been so real. It was threatening, and had seemed to be conjured up by the conversation about Glen View.