A Place Called Home (Cannibal Country Trilogy, Book 2)

by Andrew Wareham

  “Seems right to me, Dad. The Australians haven’t built up a navy or an air force big enough to defend the country. All depends on the Yanks.”

  “So, when it comes to war, and it will for sure, then we got to get the women South as soon as possible. I must stay till the last and you will probably be under orders to – so it will be a matter of timing it, son. Your mother won’t leave if she thinks I might not, so we got to tell ‘er that I’m followin’ very soon!”

  “Mary will go – she can help persuade Mum.”

  “Right! Next thing – money. You can sign for all my accounts, you know that. What I ain’t never got round to talkin’ about is the stuff in the small safe – and you better take that across with you this time, and get it down South when you take Mary.”

  It occurred to George that he had never seen the small safe open – he had assumed in fact that it was a spare, was kept empty. He was surprised later that day when Ned opened the little door in his presence.

  “Bits and pieces I picked up over the years, boy. Loot from the War – the last one, that is – that soldiers swapped me for rum, some of it. A weight of gold dust and nuggets from the claims in different places and down from the Bainings, bought in from labourers mostly. A few pearls from local reefs – not many but they come across a few over in New Ireland. Besides that, it’s amazing what you pick up here and there – German gold coins that the Tolai had got their hands on and some sovereigns as well and some francs that the Marquis du Re’s people had over on their colony on New Ireland. Bit of stuff as well that the Chinese gave me after the eruption in ’17 – sort of a thank you from them all; Imperial Jade and not new – could be worth more than the rest put together.”

  “That necklace is beautiful, Dad!”

  George held up a fine tracery of gold and diamonds, glistening in the tropical sun.

  “Good, ain’t it! I never gave it to your mother for fear she might recognise it – the soldier I bought it from had pinched it out of some German place and I wasn’t sure where. Could have been from Governor Hahn’s frau, of course, in Rabaul itself. Do you want Mary to wear it?”

  “She’d love it!”

  “Good – it’s hers.”

  They motored into Rabaul and talked with the Administration, not planning as such, but outlining vague possibilities.

  “It’s not even sure that the British will fight, Ned. The Fascists have made inroads and a lot of senior civil servants and politicians are on the Nazi side by conviction. There’s a damned good chance they’ll push for a peace and a British Vichy. Churchill’s barely got half of the Cabinet on his side, according to our information; in any case, he’s talking to the fairies half the time. The old chap’s hitting the brandy bottle hard and the pox he inherited must be turning his brain soft by now – he makes a good speech, but they say you can’t trust him to make a right decision except by luck. He made a fool of himself last time he was in government – his time as Chancellor of the Exchequer, when he went back to the Gold Standard, was the worst peacetime disaster England’s ever known; while every other country had a boom, England was in its own depression. Result was, when the Great Depression hit in 1929 and then again in ’31, England was the worst harmed of any economy in the West. That’s the main reason Britain wasn’t ready for the War last year – Churchill had crippled her!”

  Allowing for the fact that any Australian of an age to have fought in the Great War had good reason to detest Churchill, it was still a strong argument. Coming from an Australian public servant made it more compelling.

  “So then, we’re on our own out here.”

  “Just that, Ned. We can’t fight, except to cover our arses in a retreat. All we can hope for is that the Americans are brought in against the Japanese. America is so powerful that the Japs will not have a chance once the Yanks have turned to fighting for real. They did little in the last war for being unprepared; this time round it will be different.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “If we are on our own, get every citizen woman and child out and away, simple as that. If, and only if, we have space after our own people are out, then we will evacuate non-nationals, but only to Moresby. If the Americans are in the war, then we have a plan for people we shall call Coast Watchers. Trained men with wireless transceivers who will send intelligence to the Navy and Air Force and who can set up a few groups of armed guerrillas to keep the Japs bottled up in the towns and on the roads.”

  George snorted his outrage.

  “I’ve been saying for two years now that they ought to train up the locals as infantry, sir. Now I suppose it’s going to be too little, too late!”

  “The official view is that there is no point to defeating the Japanese if we simply arm the natives against us. We wish to return after the Japanese are destroyed, Mr Hawkins.”

  “We can only do that with the help of the local clans, sir. We cannot fight the Japanese on our own out in the bush – there ain’t enough of us. Call them coppers, sir, recruit companies of Reserve Police, but get the locals on our side. If we don’t secure their loyalty, then the Japanese might. What do you reckon would happen if the Japs armed up a brigade of Tolai, sir?”

  Ned spoke up at that point.

  “I was with the Expeditionary Force in ’14, as you know, sir. The Germans had armed a thousand or so Tolais, called them ‘askaris’ – their word for native troops. Almost every casualty we took was shot by them. You say you want to return, sir. So do I. But if the Tolai are armed up with rifles and machine guns and light artillery then we ain’t goin’ to be landing without a damned great big army by our sides.”

  The Administrator shifted uneasily in his armchair; he suspected that the Hawkins might be right, and he was certain that he would never be able to persuade the politicians of that fact. He was aware as well that he would be wasting his time even trying to talk to the Army – they knew as a matter of simple fact that ‘blackfellas’ could not fight.

  “I will do what I can, gentleman. I will pass your words down to Canberra.”

  They scowled in unison, having a realistic respect for the abilities of their political leaders.

  “Will any attempt be made to mine Rabaul Harbour, sir?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t tell me – we haven’t got any mines!”

  “Yes.”

  “Could we issue Nansen Passports to the Chinese here? You have that power yourself, sir. Give them documents that would let them at least travel through Australia to get away to America?”

  “The Chinese belong here, not in Australia. No, I won’t do that.”

  “Then you are a murdering bastard, sir, and I hope you rot in Hell!”

  Ned slammed out through the door, never to return to that office.

  “I am an officer in the Australian Army, sir. For that reason only, I cannot associate myself with my father’s remarks. Following the murders of at least one quarter of a million Chinese in Nanking, and the other associated atrocities, it is clear that the Japanese will kill every one of the Chinese community here – probably very slowly. By refusing to allow them to leave you are condemning them to death, sir. Whether or not this is Australian government policy, I do not know, but you have their deaths on your conscience – if you have one. Good day to you, sir.”

  The street door was hanging on one hinge where Ned had kicked his way through it. Three junior officials were staring open-mouthed; they looked at George’s face and jumped out of his way.

  “Excuse me, Mr Hawkins, sir, but we have to arrange for your training for the Coast Watchers.”

  “Shove the training, and the Coast Watchers, straight up your jaxy, you whining little shit!”

  George joined his father at the bar of the New Guinea Club; both needed a drink.

  “Might have done ourselves a bit of no good with the Administration, Dad.”

  “Fuck the Administration!”

  “Well put, old man. That’s pretty much what I said to him, but more poli
tely because I don’t fancy a court-martial. First useful thing I ever got out of that school you sent me to, mate – I could be really offensive without saying a word he could charge me for. I refused to volunteer for his Coast Watchers, by the way – I’ll keep my hands clean of his affairs.”

  “I’ve got to see Tse next.”

  “You’re welcome to that one. I have to tell Mary. Her family’s safe, they’ve got citizenship, but every one of her friends will stay here.”

  A Place Called Home

  Chapter Seven

  Mary sat quietly in her seat in the Dakota, leaning against George for the whole flight from Rabaul to Lae. He said nothing, knowing why she was taken by grief. Only on reaching their house did he try to offer comfort.

  “Your mother will come South with us as soon as the Japanese declare war, well before there is any danger. She has citizenship now; your father took up the offer when we were married; the government in Canberra forced the Administration up here to allow it. Mr Tse will fly out of Rabaul before the Japanese land. We will get word when they hit Manus and Kavieng, will have at least a day in hand.”

  “And the Ngs and the Seetos and all of the rest?”

  “No. Nothing for them. We tried, but the Administration will take no action and we cannot push the government down South. Your father is very rich - and that made the difference together with being connected by marriage.”

  “I grew up with them, with their children. They are my friends.”

  “Some of them have businesses in Port Moresby and are going there. My father has spoken to them, persuaded them to go across quickly, before the Army can bring in rules to control movement in the Territory. Most of the Chinese have only got their places in Rabaul. There is nothing for them.”

  She said no more.

  The Militia continued to train and recruited as widely as it could, building up to nearly two hundred men, forced into two companies for lack of officers. George came into conflict with the authorities on several occasions for taking mixed-race volunteers into the ranks; he argued they were heavily sun-tanned and managed to keep them. They drilled and practiced on the range and learned the weapons they were allowed; they managed to get hold of some of the few Bren guns that had trickled north and towards mid-1941 they were issued with Thomson guns to supplement their rifles, each platoon armed half and half. They started to believe that they might be able to do some damage to the invaders, though the realists among them asked just what a thin battalion could do against a whole army corps when it landed.

  Australia sent a few troops north, a token of resistance rather than a true defence force.

  “Pointless, Mary, a waste of time. A battalion here; two to Rabaul, only one of them infantry. Four bombers and half a dozen slow trainers given a pair of machine guns each. All they can do is die – they won’t achieve a damned thing!”

  “When should I go South, George?”

  “I’ve worked three weeks of leave for next month, love. Best we go down then.”

  She nodded, then very quietly said that she had seen the doctor at the hospital that morning.

  “What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

  “No, you silly man!”

  “Oh… Ah! When?”

  “May, or thereabouts. Well into the Dry Season. A good time for a boy to have a birthday with Christmas half the year away.”

  “Or a girl, perhaps?”

  “My first-born will not be a daughter, George. I hope I know my duty to the family better than that!”

  She did not think it was a laughing matter; the dignity of the whole family was involved. George apologised, accepted that he was not fully aware of the more subtle elements of her culture. He did his best to make up the lost ground, going to closed drawer of his dressing table and drawing out the little leather bag which she had yearned to open.

  “I was going to wait till your birthday, love, being our anniversary as well, but now seems a pretty good time.”

  He produced the necklace Ned had given him, admiring it in the mirror with her.

  “That is beautiful, George.”

  “It suits you then.”

  They flew down to Cairns in one of George’s Fords – needing the hold space for the baggage they took with them. They had decided to strip their house to bare bones, to leave nothing for the Japanese to burn or foul; what they could not take South, they sold.

  Immigration and Customs at Cairns welcomed them to Australia.

  “Passports and visas, please.”

  “We do not need visas.”

  The passports were snatched from George’s hands and examined closely. A senior manager was sent for. A skinny, sneering little man in the uniform of an immigration officer pointed to Mary.

  “Carrying an Australian passport, says she’s his wife.”

  George placed their marriage certificate on the bench, adding as well her Naturalisation Certificate issued in her own name when her father had taken citizenship.

  “My wife, like me, is an Australian citizen.”

  The forms were studied closely, were eventually and reluctantly admitted to be good.

  “Where are you travelling to, sir?”

  “My home. The Hawkins place.”

  It was one of the largest sugar stations in the area, was well known.

  “Oh! That Hawkins, are yer?”

  “That is right. My father is remaining in Rabaul for a while longer. My mother, and my wife's mother, will be joining us very soon.”

  “Right." There was nothing more to be said, no excuse for delay. The manager stepped back with bad grace, waving at the door. "Pass through, sir.”

  George ushered Mary in front of him, walked round to the tarmac where the Ford was unloading into the pair of trucks he had hired. Customs officials were observing.

  “Household effects, gentlemen, but excluding wooden furniture, of course. No plants, no foodstuffs, no animals of any sort.”

  Quarantine regulations were strict in Australia – they already had the menace of the rabbit and the domestic cat and needed no more alien intruders, either animal or vegetable.

  “Are you carrying any goods for sale, sir?”

  “None on this flight. I don’t in fact expect to bring anything in from the firm. We still do some gold-buying, but that will be shipped through Port Moresby.”

  “Will you be bringing labourers in, sir? For the plantation, that is. The war has called up most of the cane cutters for military service.”

  “Didn’t know that, officer. Who must I talk to, do you know?”

  “Immigration handle it, sir. They have an office in town.”

  “That man did not like me because I am Chinese.”

  “Yes. You’ll find that a lot until people get to know you.”

  “Australians are the same wherever you find them. It is not just a few like the public servants in the Administration.”

  “So it seems.” George could not defend the country; his country, he supposed.

  The house was very like that in Lae, though much larger; it was built to the tropical design, high, light, airy and rather ugly.

  “There’s not a lot you can do with fibro-board and corrugated-iron roofing, love. Shaped like a letter ‘E’, up on stilts to keep cool. There’s twelve bedrooms off three passages at the back, and a bathroom and shower to each corridor; big dining-room and three other lounges at the front; a really big covered deck looking out over the Reef. Kitchens and laundry room built separate against fire. Two acres of garden and then the cane fields down on the low ground. Fruit trees backing up the hillside behind us. The yard and quarters are out of sight behind the ridge to the side. Good road leading up, normally survives the Wet Season; we can always get into Cairns.”

  They were fifteen miles up the coast from Cairns and she had seen no other houses for the last five miles.

  “There ain’t too many folks about, that’s for sure. Another couple of miles up the road and there’s the Riordan place, and that’s about the ne
arest to us. Our other place is a bit further up; just a manager in a smaller house there. We’ll go into Cairns tomorrow and get your driving licence changed for an Australian one; better make your number at the doctor’s surgery as well. Then we’ll take a look about town and talk with the bank and get accounts established at the big stores.”

  “What am I to drive?”

  They had been brought out in one of the trucks carrying their household effects from the plane.

  “We’ve got a Ford sedan and a utility in the garage here. I’ll give you a few lessons on both – they’re bigger than anything you’ve handled before.”

  Mary had driven an ancient and small Ford truck around Lae, to the gleeful cheers of the community, all of whom had learned to run fast as she came near. Her Territory driving licence had been issued without the benefit of a driving test - the Administration had not progressed that far - but could nonetheless be exchanged for an Australian permit.

  “The house is clean, George – is there a house-girl?”

  “Two, but you don’t call them that here. Cook and maid – they live in the quarters round at the yard. They’ll turn up in a while, as soon as they get the word we’re here. Don’t give ‘em orders like they were kanakas, love. Grin and ask them to do things, and listen when they make suggestions. We don't have servants here - they are people who work for us."

  Mary looked out at the parked trucks, was a little puzzled.

  “What are those men doing with our boxes, George? We have not told them where the stuff is to go.”

  “They’ll put them on the deck, under cover. We’ll open the boxes and shift the contents where we want them. We haven’t decided which rooms are ours or where anything’s to go, and they ain’t going to hang about while we make our minds up.”