by Peter Corris
'Gidday, Dick,' he said.
'Trap shut!' Clark snapped.
'Yes, Corporal.'
'Morning, all,' I said. 'What's up?'
Sergeant Rutherford appeared at the door of the hut. 'Good morning, Mr Kelly. Captain Talbot would like a word with you.'
It was something about his manner rather than the heat of the morning that made sweat break out on my face. I mounted the steps to the hut and found Talbot inside drinking a cup of tea.
'Morning, Kelly. Tea?'
'No, thank you.'
'Good news for a man of action like yourself.'
'Oh?'
'Yes. I've been on the blower to HQ and the word is that there's no hurry on your assignment.' He stood up and crossed to a map pinned to the wall. It showed Cape York peninsula and the Gulf of Carpentaria, Torres Strait and the southern part of New Guinea. Talbot tapped it casually with his teaspoon.
'We're going in after the Japs,' he said.
9
What could I do? What could I say? My credibility was on the line. I'd need some kind of endorsement from Talbot if I was going to get the free ride through the fleshpots I was counting on. But the thought of going back into the jungle chilled me. And the idea of trying to bring in that pack of Japanese led by the madman Okano was enough to turn me greyer than I was already. My hair badly needed a touch-up. Talbot was watching me closely, but I hadn't played the game in Hollywood for twenty years for nothing. Looking unconcerned is an essential trick of the trade and I fancied I carried it off as I stared intently at the map.
'Right ho,' I said. 'Maps were never my long suit. Now, Kaminaga and I marched south-east, basically. And we were travelling for damn nearly two weeks. Where d'you calculate we should look?'
As I spoke I began to feel some relief. It would be next to impossible to find the valley where the planes had come down by retracing our steps. A bit of wandering about in the bush would be okay, especially if we were well equipped. There might be a chance to do Corporal Clark a bad turn or two. I began to feel better. I stroked my moustache and looked guilelessly at Talbot. Then I remembered two things—most of the group outside were prisoners and Talbot had a reputation for severe punishments.
'We know where to look,' he said. 'The smoke you mentioned in connection with the B52 was logged by a plane some time back. Nothing much was thought of it at the time, but the significance has now been picked up.'
I nodded enthusiastically. 'We did see a few planes on our way out. Worried that they might've been Japs. We didn't know where we were, you see.'
'Quite,' Talbot said. He sipped some tea, put the cup and saucer on the desk and picked up a greaseproof pen. He drew a circle on the map in an area that looked a long way from the coast. I found it hard to believe that Harry and I had marched that far. Relief again. Maybe the plane had spotted another fire.
'This is definitely the spot. We sent a plane over low this morning. Aircraft wreckage, no doubt about it.'
It was well short of noon and I needed a drink. I felt in my pockets for a cigarette, but I'd smoked them all last night and after my splendid breakfast. The food wasn't sitting quite so comfortably now. I said something along the lines of, 'Did the recce plane spot the Japs?'
Talbot shook his head. 'Jungle's too dense. We have to go in, but we're in luck.'
'How's that?'
He drank the rest of his tea as I resisted the impulse to mop my forehead. When a man like Talbot says he's in luck you can bet that a chap like me is out of that commodity. 'Have you ever heard of the helicopter?' Talbot said.
I had, as a matter of fact. When I'd been flying planes for Howard Hughes,12 a lot of the pilot talk had been about aircraft that didn't need a runway to take off. A few had messed around with autogiros and other such madcap machines. Some of the craziest of them thought that was the only thing stopping the plane from becoming as popular as the motor car. The mind boggles at the thought of every American teenager having his own plane—the death toll would be enormous. But enthusiasts don't think of things like that. I hadn't kept up my interest in aviation, but I ran into old pilots in California from time to time, and I'd heard that a straight takeoff, rotary blade aircraft was on the way. I began to tell Talbot something about this interesting bit of history of mine, but he cut me off.
'Yes, yes. Well, as it happens, the army has a Sikorsky XR-4 they want to try out.'
'The army? The air force, surely?'
Talbot shook his head. 'The Americans insist it's for army use only. Something to do with patents, American politics, contracts, rivalry between the services, you know the way they are.'
What he was leading up to was beginning to dawn on me and it didn't make me feel any better. Ordinary aircraft are bad enough. I'd flown all kinds, though never as a solo pilot, my nerve wasn't up to that, and I knew how dangerous they were. Exhilarating, yes, but death machines in fact. Nothing I'd heard led me to think that these helicopter things would be any different and, since they were still in the experimental stage, they were probably worse. I wanted to get something of this across to Talbot but he was in no mood to listen. He sat at his desk and started scribbling. Without looking up he said, 'The party will consist of myself, Rutherford, Clark, Johnson, Desmond, Waters, Richardson and you.'
'Who's going to fly the bloody thing?'
Now he looked up, and sharply. I realised I'd sounded afraid. I smiled at him. 'I mean, I've flown fixed-wing aircraft, lots of 'em, but these new things . . . Don't know one end from the other. Not that it matters because they take off straight up, I understand.'
I was babbling. Talbot looked at me coolly. 'The Americans are supplying a pilot.'
'Good show. Don't they need a clearing or something to put down in? Pretty rugged country out there.'
Talbot was writing again. 'I'm sure we'll be able to find a clearing or two. Might have a bit of hiking to do. Anyway, I'm told these things can hover.'
'Hover?'
He held his left hand out above the desk; damaged arm or not, the hand was perfectly steady. 'Yes, like so. Then chaps can go up and down on rope ladders.'
I couldn't afford to enter any more protests and to fake a bout of malaria, which was the only stratagem I could think of, wouldn't wash. I was stuck. Talbot was desperate for action, like Jacko Waters. Rutherford was a machine, to Willy Johnson it would be a picnic. That left me, Clark and Richardson as the possible cowards. As I've found so often, I'm more afraid of being thought a coward than of doing brave things. Just. Talbot held out his cigarette case and I took one, forcing my hand to stay steady as I tapped it on my thumbnail. I leaned down for the light and puffed airily. 'Right,' I said. When're we off?'
To this day I don't know how a virtual prototype of a US army helicopter came to be put into service by a unit of the Australian militia, and the whole deal organised so quickly. I can only assume the powers-that-be had the idea in mind beforehand and were simply waiting for the right occasion. From their point of view, this was it. What was needed was speed of delivery into and retrieval from an inaccessible area of a small number of men, which is what helicopters have been so successful at ever since. I paid scant attention as Talbot took Rutherford, Clark and myself through the details. I tried to comfort myself with one thought: It'd be worse to have to parachute in.
The briefing over, there was nothing left for me to do. Clark was to organise our kits and rations; Rutherford was in charge of ordnance; Talbot was in control of communications. I found myself out under the palm tree with my erstwhile fellow prisoners, who had been given the curtest of outlines of the enterprise by Rutherford.
'Why you three?' I asked, accepting a cigarette from Les Desmond.
'We were given the option of volunteering or doing another month in the cooler,' Les drawled. 'Me 'n Jacko jumped at it. Blue's not so keen but he didn't fancy being left there with the Jap.'
'How is Harry?'
Willy Johnson had strolled up. Les gave him a smoke and he nodded his thanks as he lit u
p. 'Harry's doin' OK,' he said. 'He's tryin' to get up a poker game with some of me mates. Those blokes are buggers for the cards.'
'He'll clean them out,' I said. 'He's lived by his wits in Honolulu. He can probably deal four aces any time he likes.'
'Might get a surprise,' Willy grunted. He sucked on his cigarette. 'I seen the helicopter.'
Everyone fired questions at him, even Richardson. In his apprehension and fear he forgot his dislike of Aborigines. Johnson drew a rapid sketch of the helicopter in the dust, working with a twig. The drawing was amazingly clear and precise.
'Doors here 'n' here,' he said. 'Propeller here an' rotor on top.'
'What?' Jacko said.
Willy did another lightning sketch of the rotor blades. To scale, probably.
'Shit a brick,' Richardson moaned. 'How high does this thing go?'
Les grinned and pointed to the hills. 'Has to clear them, Blue. I doubt if it goes up into the clouds.'
Richardson's face, already pallid from his time in the cooler, went paler. He shook his head and squatted down under the tree.
'He'll be off again,' Jacko said. 'Best to let him go. Me, I'm looking forward to it. D'you reckon the Japs'll fight, Dick?'
I thought back to what I'd seen of the Japanese—their broken boots, haggard faces with feverish eyes and their diet of sago. I tried to remember what Harry had told me of their ammunition supplies. Low, surely. I was about to dampen Jacko's hopes when I remembered the bright bayonets and the fanaticism of Lieutenant Okano.
'If they're still alive,' I said, 'they'll fight.'
'Whoopee!' Jacko yelled. He pulled off his slouch hat and threw it in the air. He punched Willy on the arm; Willy aimed a kick at the hat and they fell into an impromptu game of keepings-off.13
I was suddenly conscious of Les' steady grey eyes trained on me. 'You were in the first one, weren't you, Dick?'
I nodded. 'In France. Towards the end of it.'
'What was it like?'
'Bloody awful. Excuse me, Les, I'm off to have a word with Harry. Who do I have to see?'
Les grinned. 'You're togged out like a fuckin' general. I reckon if you just wander up there they'll let you in. WO Clive might be in charge, I dunno.'
'I met him. On the way to his first pip, isn't he?'
Les spat in the dust. 'Sorry, Dick, but that's what I think of officers. Up the revolution, down with the ruling class.'
Les was about five foot ten and would've weighed no more than eleven stone. He looked as tough as teak and he had the hands of a man who could handle an axe and a rifle as if they had been thrown into his cradle. I definitely wanted him by my side when we went into the valley.
'I'm not sure that I don't agree with you, mate,' I said.
WO Clive was looking seedy. 'I'm not used to drinking,' he said.
He'd hardly had a drop it seemed to me, but some heads are softer than others. I advised a hair of the dog and he shuddered. He made no objection to my seeing Harry. I found him in the exercise yard, exercising. He was doing knee-bends and stretches and other movements that looked painful. He was stripped to the waist and his torso showed bruises and half-healed scratches. His ribs were sticking through but he was obviously on the way to recovery. He saw me, but continued his exercises for a few minutes. The soldier who'd escorted me clearly found the scene boring. He lounged against the wall, holding his rifle sloppily, and lit a cigarette.
Harry was dripping with sweat by the time he'd finished. He joined me in a patch of shade, mopping himself with a towel.
'Boy, am I glad to see you,' he said.
'Are they treating you all right, Harry?'
'Not bad. The grub's good. We had a few nasty types around this morning who suggested stringing me up, but I talked them out of it.'
I laughed. 'I bet you did. Well, just thought I'd drop in to . . .'
He gripped my arm and I could feel the strength fear was giving him. 'Dick, Dick, I'm in big trouble here.'
'I can't see why. You seem to be coping very well. I'm told you've got a card game going. Pretty soon they'll be shipping you off to Cowra.'
'Have you lost your mind? The word is you're going into the jungle to bring out my unit.'
'That's right.'
'Can't you see what that means? If those guys catch up with me I'm a gone goose.'
'I imagine we'll be away a while. You'll be in Cowra by then.'
'So what? If I go to this Cowra, what's to stop them shipping the others there, too?'
The guard stood on his cigarette butt and checked his watch. I hadn't been aware that there was a time limit on my visit, but maybe Harry was due back in his cell. I could see his problem. As a deserter and collaborator with the enemy, Harry wouldn't last ten seconds if thrown in with other Japanese prisoners.
'I can't see what I can do.'
'You owe me, right? For getting you away. For the snake?'
'Yes, but . . .'
The guard shouldered his rifle and started to move towards us.
Harry saw him coming. 'Listen,' he hissed. 'Just make sure of Okano. I've got a chance with the others, but not with him.'
'I don't follow.'
'Time's up. Back inside,' the guard said.
'Kill the bastard,' Harry whispered. 'You owe me, Dick.'
10
I sat in the officers' mess inspecting the kit Corporal Clark had assembled. Groundsheet, camouflage equipment, medicine pack, field glasses, rations, water bottle, compass, digging tool—with the Owen gun and ammunition plus knives and grenades supplied by Rutherford, I thought I might have trouble lifting the gear off the floor, let alone carrying it through the bush.
I glanced out the window as thunder rolled in the north-west. Then the rain began to fall in buckets and I felt a wave of relief. Maybe it would keep up for days and delay our departure. While there's delay there's hope of cancellation.
'Nasty,' I said to Rutherford, who was a man of few words himself.
He worked the action of an Owen gun. 'Won't last.'
Talbot entered the mess, shaking water from his oilskin. His eyes were gleaming and he looked as happy as a lottery winner. 'Good, this,' he said. 'It'll clear the air, make for excellent communications. How are we doing, Sergeant?'
Rutherford straightened up to his full six foot one. 'All set, sir.'
Talbot wore one of those watches covered by a leather flap, the hallmark of a man who always has time and never panics. 'The helicopter's due in an hour.'
'It can't fly in this, surely,' I said.
'This won't last.' Talbot said. Another dangerous sign—an officer and a senior NCO in perfect accord.
They were right, too. The rain fell heavily for half an hour and then the clouds rolled back. We assembled in a corner of the parade ground under a rapidly clearing sky. The routine of the camp went on around us—trucks arrived and departed, a platoon marched out of the gate on a training exercise, a mortar team stripped and reassembled the weapon, watched by a lance corporal with a stopwatch.
'Where's Richardson?' Rutherford demanded of Clark.
'Can't find him, Sergeant.'
'Better off without the bugger,' Jacko muttered.
'Speak up, Private,' snapped Talbot.
'Blue's not much of a fighter, sir,' Jacko said. 'I reckon he'd be more of a hindrance than a help.'
Which was exactly how I was feeling, but I couldn't let it show. Talbot flipped the cover off his watch and scanned the sky. 'I don't want you to get the idea that we're going out to fight,' he said. 'Our job is to locate the Japanese and take them prisoner. I want that understood at the outset.'
Fine by me, of course. Except that I had slightly different instructions from Harry. When I looked at the assembled armaments it was hard to take Talbot's claim at face value, but if that was what he really wanted I had no doubt he'd get his way. My status was uncertain. I tried to adopt a vaguely military stance but I was glad not to have to play the part completely. The soldiers stood at ease: Les and Jacko l
ooked resolute; Clark looked reluctant; Willy Johnson wore shorts and the heavy army boots looked strange at the ends of his skinny dark legs. Lieutenant Dr Barrymore Crawford strolled towards us. Although he'd drunk six times as much as WO Clive the night before, he appeared to be suffering no ill-effects.
'Rather wish I was going with you chaps,' he said.
'Can't spare you, Barry,' Talbot said. 'You're acting CO until Gordon gets back.'
Crawford groaned. 'I know. God help me. At least it's payday tomorrow and I can do a little embezzling. Well, I suppose the names of your next of kin are in the files. Good luck, chaps.'
Corporal Clark shifted uneasily. He had no more stomach for this job than I did. My mind was racing desperately, seeking for some escape or even a reason for delay. I had the double problem of my responsibility to Harry. That gave me an idea.
'You know, Lindsay,' I said. 'It's just occurred to me that even if we find the Japs we won't be able to communicate with them. They don't all speak English like Kaminaga. I wonder if we shouldn't perhaps take him along.'
Talbot smiled. 'Didn't these gaolbirds tell you what the course I took was about, Kelly?'
I shook my head.
'Japanese. I'm not bad at languages. Picked up quite a bit of it. I had a session with Sergeant Kaminaga this morning and he seemed to get my drift.'
'Good, Lindsay. That's a big help.'
Then we heard the helicopter. It came in from the south-east, skimming over the trees and making a hell of a racket. It landed about twenty-five yards from us; the downthrust of its rotors threw up water and mud which spattered us before we could jump back. The pilot switched off and jumped down, ducking low as he went under the spinning blades. From the grin on his face I guessed that this method of disconcerting those awaiting him was one of his favourite tricks. He wore a green flying suit and a helmet with flaps and a visor. He splashed through the mud and extended his hand to Talbot.
'Captain, I'm Lieutenant-Colonel Jerry James.'
Talbot shook the gloved hand. James removed his gloves and shook a Camel from a packet he took from a zipped pocket in his suit. Automatically, he offered them around. I took one and flicked my Zippo. James sucked the smoke deep and surveyed our little group.
