Long Way Place (Cannibal Country Trilogy, Book 1)

by Andrew Wareham

  Ned shrugged, made a note to keep his store cupboard full in expectation of some months of no deliveries this year or next, headed down coast to home.

  A year later an order arrived from head office for him to make himself available in Moresby for police duty, on secondment for ‘six months or thereabouts’.

  He never came back.

  LONG WAY PLACE

  Chapter Seven

  McLeod greeted Ned as he entered the office, standing to his salute and then shaking hands and showing evident relief that he had arrived.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Inspector Hawkins! I need help!”

  Ned was surprised, had not expected that statement of the obvious. If he hadn’t needed help then surely to Christ he wouldn’t have had him called in to Moresby.

  “They’ve decided to get rid of the Militia – not that it ever actually bloody existed, as far as I can see, man! Too few bodies, it seems, to make it a ‘sensible defence force’ for the Territory. So, we get the job.”

  “’Defence force’, sir… defending what against who?”

  “The Territory against Imperial Germany, it would seem, Inspector Hawkins.”

  “On our own? A couple of hundred police boys with rifles against the German Army?”

  “Not all of it.”

  “Oh, I am pleased by that, sir!”

  "I am glad to hear that Inspector. We will be expected to 'make a showing' should the Tsingtao Squadron appear off Port Moresby."

  "Two armoured cruisers with eight inch guns. Four smaller cruisers with six inch and four inch. Two thousand of sailors with Maxims and rifles. Some prick is pulling..."

  Ned bit the comment off - it was not precisely tactful, he realised.

  "That's not quite how I would express the matter, Inspector Hawkins. I do not necessarily disagree, ye understand."

  "I have been out of it, a bit, down in the bush, sir. Are we at war with Germany?"

  "We may well be very soon, it seems. The Administration has a wireless set now, at Konny, and they have received, or listened in to would be better, signals to the navy. There is an Admiral Patey who has been given all of the Australian naval forces as well as the couple of British ships he already had. The main thing is he's got Australia, and she's a battle-cruiser, twelve inch guns."

  Ned was impressed. Provided she was in the right place the Germans would not have a chance, they would never even get in range. No armoured or protected cruiser could stand against a dreadnought battle-cruiser – any seaman knew that.

  "Where is she now, sir?"

  "Good question, Inspector Hawkins. Townsville in Queensland, I think. If war comes then she will escort a convoy north, forming up either in Samarai or here, to take Rabaul first, because they want the naval base there, and then the rest of German New Guinea. As far as Murray is concerned, that's where you come in, Inspector Hawkins. Your local defence force will travel with the invasion and then turn itself into a police force again. The bloke who controls the police is the real Administrator, and Murray wants a Papuan hand in charge - ideally him, but if not, one of his trusted people."

  "He wants me to be Administrator? He must be bloody daft!"

  "No, he wants you to be in charge of policing for the while, and then when the war ends and peacetime government takes over, you give the force over to our people, and that gives them the rest of the Administration."

  "Won't work, sir."

  "Why not?"

  "Papuans can't be coppers over on the New Guinea side - they'll be foreigners there. The police boys will all have to be local men, from their clans. If I go over there with lads from Moresby then I'll have a permanent fight on me hands."

  "So you would have to go on your own, and that means you would have to have a job to do with the army, or the navy."

  Within the week Ned had become the advisor on the maintenance of Public Order in the ex-German areas. They promoted him two ranks to Chief Inspector so that he could have standing with the General and Admiral in charge.

  "Chief Inspector ranks with a major - they have to listen to a major, but they could ignore a lieutenant."

  War was declared, they were told the day after it happened, and Australia sailed north on a quick visit to Port Moresby, quite why they did not know. The Admiral, a very pleasant gentleman, visited Murray, gave him his orders and dropped off a pair of Maxim guns and extra rifles and ammunition to aid in the defence of the harbour.

  The Maxim guns were the latest thing, belt-fed machine guns of three-o-three calibre. There were no regular soldiers in Moresby - not a single man who had even seen a picture of a machine gun. Murray was most impressed with the guns, called Ned to inspect them.

  "This needs the skills of an engineer, Mr Hawkins! Find out how it works, will you, old chap?"

  It was in fact relatively simple, as he told McLeod.

  "Makes sense, when you think about it, sir. If it wasn't easy then bloody soldiers wouldn't be able to use it."

  "Thank you, Mr Hawkins. Please to explain."

  The Maxim gun was designed after the French mitrailleuse pattern as a small artillery piece with wheels and a shield for the gunner to sit behind while his ammunition handler knelt at his side. Another pair of men, or a horse, would be needed to move the gun.

  "A crew of four, sir, and even then she'll be slow and unhandy to move around. I've taken a look at her, sir, and I reckon she could sit on a simple tripod instead of the wheeled carriage. Then one man to carry the barrel, number two with the tripod and a belt of ammunition over his shoulder, a third to be an ammunition number with maybe six belts, and a can of water for cooling. Much more mobile, sir, and I think she could be shifted from target to target quickly, and turned from side to side on the pivot."

  "Can we do it?"

  "Weld the tripod up from heavy steel rod. Stick a wheel hub horizontally on top. Attach a bracket like the one she's sitting in on the carriage. Two days, sir."

  "Try it with one, test it out and if it works then do the other."

  Five days later they had two much lighter and more mobile weapons.

  "The lads like 'em, sir. The only problem I can see is that if one jams, I will have to fix it. I haven't got time enough to train the boys to strip and reassemble the breech. I'm an engineer, sir, and it all makes sense to me - it's just another piece of equipment. The lads have got no background, no education, no, what's the word... they're not used to machines."

  "Familiarity?"

  "That's it, sir. You and me, we grew up with wheels on carts and trains, we saw steam engines, we were used to iron ships. Even small things, sir, like door knobs that turned and hinges. We saw sewing machines and pumps for water, even taps that turned on and off. They ain't used to any of them, and machines don't come naturally to them like they do to us."

  "I hadn't thought of that, Mr Hawkins... You may well be right. What have you in mind to do with the guns?"

  "If the Germans come, sir, then we sit in the shade of the palms on Ela Beach, looking out at the harbour. Then we watch where they come in. The big ships probably won't tie up at the wharf - they will want to have steam up and be ready to get out to sea if they see smoke at a distance. A battle-cruiser would sink them in an hour if they were caught in harbour and unable to move for coral reefs. Everybody knows that the dreadnought battleships and battle-cruisers are so powerful that ordinary ships can only run from them."

  "And?"

  "Landing-parties in ship's boats, sir, maybe towed by a steam pinnace but quite possibly under oars. Watch where they're coming in and then pick off a couple of boatloads and get the ‘ell out of it while they're still wondering what happened."

  "Hit and run?"

  "We won't stop the better part of a thousand armed seamen and marines with two hundred policemen, sir. Trained men, and from what I've been told, well-trained at that, under military command against civilians with rifles they fire once or twice a year. We'll do them some harm and slow them, but we won't stop them, sir."

>   "I agree. Let's see what Murray has to say."

  Murray had a lot to say - he would not run, he would not leave his people unprotected!

  "Your choice, sir. How are you going to fight eight-inch cannon?"

  "Thank you, Mr Hawkins. Rhetoric is not the answer."

  Ned did not have the faintest idea what rhetoric was and agreed cautiously.

  "What do you suggest?"

  "Pull the Administration back to Laloki, sir. Be ready to evacuate Moresby at the first sign of the German squadron. Men up on the hills with telescopes would make sense. Get tinned food out in any case, use one of the old warehouses to store it. Warn the local people to get out to Nine Mile and then on to Brown River. Tell the Chinese you will be going, give them the opportunity to get out as well."

  "Bloody Chinks! The Germans are welcome to them, Mr Hawkins."

  "They have stores full of supplies, sir. The Germans will use them if we don't get them out."

  "Do you enjoy being right, Mr Hawkins?"

  "Only sometimes, sir."

  A month dragged by, time wasted during which the Royal Navy wandered about the South Pacific in obedience to ever-changing instructions from Whitehall. The cable and the wireless meant that admirals had far less influence, and politicians far more. The nineteenth century mind at the Admiralty expected an early end to the war and wanted German possessions to be captured before any peace conference could take place, the aim being to have pieces available to horse trade, this island for that, a treaty port here for an African colony there. The China squadron disappeared from Tsingtao, gone none knew where, eventually to re-emerge off South America and destroy an under-gunned squadron of obsolete ships and present Imperial Germany with a propaganda victory that humiliated the British navy. Churchill, whose political games had created the British defeat, proceeded to have a temper tantrum - which achieved little except to slightly hasten the inevitable defeat of the German squadron, isolated in the South Atlantic Ocean without coal or supplies or any realistic hope of returning home.

  Admiral Patey's squadron finally returned to the business of the capture of Rabaul in September, sending troopships and destroyers and obsolete Australian warships up to the Papuan coast, Australia and Sydney, a cruiser, expected to join them off Samarai.

  The expedition began to muster in Port Moresby harbour, but the authorities had forgotten to order up any colliers. There was no steam coal at the wharves and they had to wait.

  The troopers, Berrima and Kanowna, were jam-packed with soldiers, the great bulk of them recently recruited and many very young. The birth certificate had not really caught on in Queensland and Northern Territory and many of the eighteen-year olds of the Kennedy Regiment on board Kanowna were two or three years younger than the minimum age - Outback lads up for a fight. Discipline was a new concept to most of the boys.

  The Kennedy Regiment was given a day's shore leave and was then banned from going off the ship again. Many of the lads had mistaken the Papuan girls for Aborigines and had indulged in the Outback entertainment of casual rape. Murray was outraged and forbade all contact with the ship, thus putting her onto short water rations as well.

  The government of New Zealand came to the rescue of the expedition, sending a pair of colliers to Port Moresby. Unfortunately they were carrying household coal of lower calorific value than steam coal, so the ships, when they finally got under way, were reduced in speed and range.

  Meanwhile the two submarines of the Australian Navy were on their way north, towed by their tenders, a pair of ancient gunboats equipped with muzzle-loading black powder cannon for which they had no ammunition. The gunboats had not been any distance to sea for some years and found they could only make six knots, so they were directed to head directly for Rabaul, the expedition to go on without them. The submarines reached the port long after the action was over, but in time to go on a patrol on which one disappeared, never to be seen again.

  Kanowna left Port Moresby and heaved to barely an hour later, her black gang going into mutiny. The stokers had been signed on under contract for service in Australian coastal waters, had been assured that they would not be sent foreign.

  The soldiers of the Kennedy Regiment volunteered to take over in the stokehold but Colonel Holmes, senior Army officer of the expedition, had no faith in their ability to do anything at all. He sent the ship back to Townsville, preferring to use his other soldiers, most of whom had experience as reservists or in the various state militias and were generally older men.

  Ned, embarked on Berrima with a tiny cabin of his own in deference to his rank, watched all and said nothing. He ate his meals quietly and, to the annoyance of the Army, was served first in the officers' bar of an evening. The purser had been many years in the local waters and knew who Ned was, and that Murray was his direct patron. The Army would soon be gone, the Administration would be around forever.

  A young captain, one of the gilded boys on Holmes' staff, was deputed to ask Ned who he was and what he was doing aboard and why he was wearing an anomalous blue uniform, without a necktie.

  "Good evening, sir. Captain Meikle-Anstruther, at your service."

  The accent immediately irritated Ned and he responded with his own.

  "G'day, Captain! Ned Hawkins, Chief Inspector, Constabulary of Papua. Do you fancy a beer?"

  The captain accepted a drink.

  "Andy, a couple of coldies, mate?"

  The barman provided instant service, from an icebox at the back. All except the privileged drank warm beer from the counter. As Ned was in company he offered glasses as well.

  "Glad to meet you, Captain - you must be the first brown job I've spoken to. It's a good thing I'm used to living in the bush."

  "Busy, you know, sir, planning the invasion."

  "Good thing, too. Nothing like a plan, mate. It won't work out - nothing ever does up ‘ere - but if you've got a plan you know where you're starting from at least."

  The captain was not entertained. He had been ten years in the army and was displeased to have been shunted across to this backwater campaign from the garrison in Singapore. In his experience, and he had twice been in action against the natives in India, everything always went to plan.

  "We have found a shortage of maps, Chief Inspector, which has made things difficult."

  "There ain't any, Captain. To draw maps you've got to put surveyors on the ground, and most of the New Guinea Side ain't never been walked over by dim-dims."

  The captain was not familiar with the term.

  "Whiteskins, mate; us. It's the Pidgin word, and we use it, outside of Moresby, that is, because Murray don't like Pidgin."

  "Oh. You say there has been no survey of the German colony?"

  "Or ours, mate. This is the last place on Earth. You get much more than thirty miles inland of anywhere and you're in new country."

  "Oh. What exactly are you to do, Chief Inspector?"

  "There’s going to ‘ave to be a police force, and set up quick if you don't want the whole place to break out in clan fighting. From what we've been told - which ain't much - the Germans ‘ave got plantations with labourers brought in from everywhere. The local blokes will want to chop the outsiders, on general principle, you might say, so you'll need coppers or you'll lose every plantation, the lot burnt down. Copra makes glycerine - and if you've got a war in Europe, you're going to need plenty of that."

  "Oh. Why?"

  "Explosives, first of all - glycerine is the base for most of the stuff you stick in your guns."

  "Oh. I thought gunpowder might be made from coal. Most things are, are they not?"

  Ned was aware that he had very little education, but he suspected this man might have had none.

  "Coal burns, mate. Explosives go bang."

  "Oh."

  Ned was left alone after that - soldiers and policemen did not mix. Army officers were gentlemen. They never did ask about his uniform.

  The three destroyers of the Australian Navy went ahead of the expedit
ion as they neared New Britain. Escorted by the light cruiser they were to investigate the great harbour and the bays around it. Ideally they were to discover the German squadron at anchor and make a torpedo attack upon it.

  The senior lieutenants in command were much in favour - that was what destroyers were for and success would make their careers. They were brave young men, backed by trained and professional crews, probably capable of performing the task. The Tsingtao Squadron was not there, however.

  The destroyers steamed around the coast, rejoined Sydney and poked their collective noses into the shallows off Herbertshohe, some score of miles away from Rabaul, a safe distance from the volcanoes and the actual seat of the local administration. For lack of anything better to do, and unable to discover the powerful radio station they had been told was there, they bombarded and flattened the telephone exchange!

  Examining the shore carefully they spotted what might be trenches covering the shoreline and located a barracks, seemingly empty.

  They knew that there was a Militia based on Rabaul. Such information as was available, mainly gained from merchant seamen who occasionally called at the port, suggested that there were several hundreds of armed natives under German officers. Germany was renowned as a militaristic state and it was not unreasonable to assume that they would have trained their people quite thoroughly.

  They reported back to the Admiral and plans were made accordingly.

  "Let us assume a battalion of light infantry, gentlemen. Familiar with the country and based on prepared positions, but without heavy artillery support. The destroyers were not fired on, so no shore batteries."

  Colonel Holmes wondered if there might not be field guns.

  "They have them in India, you know, sir. This place is hot and looks wet as well."

  Indian experience was obviously relevant.

  "Would this policeman fellow have any idea, do you think?"

  "Shouldn't think so, sir. He doesn't even have a proper uniform."

  An obviously relevant comment - the man was a civilian, could not possess knowledge of use to the military.