CHAPTER TEN

Dan found himself with time on his hands. When he reported to the USAAF temporary headquarters on Collins Street in Melbourne, he was given leave until such time as a new posting could be confirmed. Like all newly arrived American forces in Australia, the Air Corps commanders were desperately trying to organize their personnel and resources at the most strategic locations and facilities around the country. While he awaited his orders, Dan was given accommodation at the fashionable Chevron Hotel which had been made available exclusively for American officers.

All the Air Corps personnel at the Chevron were fresh out from the United States. They were enjoying the adventure and eagerly looking forward to seeing action against the enemy. Dan, like most veterans, declined to be drawn into conversations about the realities of combat. He preferred not to dampen the young flyers’ enthusiasm, knowing the brash bravado of many of them would be tempered soon enough by more accomplished Japanese pilots. Dan just hoped they would all live through their first engagements with the enemy.

After the rough and ready tropical outpost of Darwin and raw desert town of Alice Springs, Dan was surprised to find a city like Melbourne in Australia. He found it much like Boston in Massachusetts, a city he had visited once during his Air Force training. As with Boston, he was impressed by the sheer size of Melbourne, its air of permanence and its unmistakable English tradition, features unknown in the small multi-racial frontier towns of his native New Mexico.

But what surprised Dan most during the days he spent looking around the bustling city was the huge concentration of Americans. Every available inner-city park had became a sea of tents, housing thousands of servicemen who had disembarked from troopships and were awaiting transport to military bases being set up around Australia. Dan was told one of the largest camps, Camp Pell, was named after Major Floyd ‘Slugger’ Pell, Dan’s P-40 squadron commander, shot down and killed over Darwin the same day he was forced down off Bathurst Island. Another camp, Camp Murphy, set up on the Melbourne Cricket Ground, was also named after an American officer killed in action while serving in Australia.

During his time in the city, Dan saw the entire American melting-pot on the streets of Melbourne. There were Hispanics from the south-west and California, fair-haired Germanics and Nordics from Minnesota and Wisconsin, white Anglo-Saxons and black Afros from the deep south and Cajans from the shores of the Gulf of Mexico. And there was every shade of light and olive-skinned European, whose forebears had migrated to the United States to find a new life and to build a new nation—a nation which now called on her youngest sons to defend her, half a world away, in a far-off land many of them had never heard of.

Some were wide-eyed farm boys, some street-wise kids from big city slums, others were mine, mill and factory workers, average boy-next-door Americans, forced by circumstance to abandon their daily lives and the comfort of their homes for canvas tents and straw-filled mattresses on the cold, hard ground of Melbourne in early winter. In the weeks and months that lay ahead, most would find themselves posted to tropical Queensland and the Northern Territory. But it was unlikely any would find a warmer welcome than that given them by the people of Melbourne.

Crowds of well-wishers often lined the streets, sometimes in the middle of the night, dressed in pajamas, to cheer on and wave to marching GI’s disembarking from troopships at the docks. The lounge rooms and kitchens of Melburnians were thrown open to the young Americans’ friendly invasion, as were many of the city’s clubs and entertainment venues. Special clubs run by volunteers were set up to cater for the needs of servicemen, providing showers, hair-cuts, laundry and cleaning facilities, and the Salvation Army, church groups and hospitality organizations established drop-in centres providing hot dogs, hamburgers and friendly conversation.

Dan often wondered if the war in the Pacific even gained a mention by the Navajo in New Mexico or whether the far-off conflict had any effect at all on the daily lives of the pickup truck cowboys and storekeepers on Main Street in Gallup. Thoughts and images of Faith Brodie, the pretty blue-eyed, fair-haired girl he had met so briefly in Darwin also frequently crept into his mind. He was thinking of her again one afternoon, lying on his bed at the Chevron Hotel, when there was a knock on the door. He answered it to find an Air Force sergeant standing outside in the corridor.

Captain Rivers, sir?’

‘Yes, Sergeant.’

‘I’ve come from HQ, Captain.’ The sergeant handed a Dan a brown envelope. ‘Your orders, sir.’

*

Faith was worried for Joe’s safety right from the moment she had been woken by the first ear-splitting thunderclap of the violent storm that had rolled in from the sea the night Joe left for Groote Eylandt.

Under normal circumstances she would have been unconcerned, secure in the knowledge of her brother’s good seamanship. But knowing Faraway’s seaworthiness was doubtful after the Zero attack, she found it impossible to ignore a growing sense of foreboding which grew with each passing hour. At daybreak each morning, Faith and Koko would go down to the beach and stand at the water’s edge scanning the horizon hoping for a glimpse of sails. But there was never a sign of Joe. As the days passed, and as food supplies ran down, the responsibility for the lives of the children stranded in one of the most remote and inhospitable regions of the country and Joe’s continued absence weighed heavily on Faith’s mind.

They were all surviving at the settlement thanks to Sunday and Monday. The twin bothers had taught them how to catch fish, using an age old Aboriginal method. By stripping toxic bark from a certain reddish tree among the mangroves, then chopping it up and tossing it into tidal pools near the mouth of the river that had been left brimming with mullet by the outgoing tide, they were always assured of a feed. After about half an hour, the toxic bark fragments paralyzed the mullet and they floated up to the surface to the eager hands of the fishermen.

‘We’re going to have to decide on some kind of a plan,’ Faith said trying to hold back tears as once again she and Koko walked back from the beach one morning after scanning the horizon for Joe. ‘We have to face up to the possibility that something’s happened to Joe and that he won’t be coming back. I have the feeling we’re on our own now. Sooner or later we must try and get the children out of here. And there’s no point trying to get to the mouth of the Roper River, the missionaries that were waiting for us will have left by now.’

‘But what can we do?’ Koko asked.

‘Joe said that the Army probably took the Aborigines from the settlement in trucks. He said he thought there was a dirt track leading south-west from here, to a place called Ngukurr. It’s about forty miles upstream from the mouth of the Roper. He said the track crosses the Phelp River about thirty miles from here, then runs just south of the Collera mountains to Ngukurr. We should be able to follow it all right. Even if it was washed away in the wet, there should be fresh tracks now from the Army vehicles. It won’t be easy but I think we have to try and make it on foot.’

‘Ngukurr must be seventy miles from here. And twisting and turning through rough, hilly country it could turn out to be more like over a hundred.’ Koko shook his head. ‘I think that’s asking too much of the children. And what if we made it to Ngukurr and find it’s been evacuated like this place?’

‘Joe said it’s only a few more miles upstream from Ngukurr to the police station at the settlement of Roper Bar.’

‘Police?’ Koko stopped and turned to face Faith, ‘You know what will happen if the police see me. It will be straight to an internment camp. I don’t think I want to go to Ngukurr, Roper Bar or anywhere else. I think I’d sooner take my chances here. Besides, what if we wander off the track and lose our way?’

‘I doubt we’ll lose it with Sunday and Monday with us and even if we did, you and Joe never had any problem getting your bearings at sea from the sun and the stars. The Roper River is due south. If the worst comes to the worst we just keep going south until we reach the river, then follow it inland.’

Koko admired Faith’s determination but remained skeptical. ‘Look, I’ll go with you if that’s what you want, Faith.’ He turned away and carried on walking up the beach. ‘But I won’t give myself up to the Army or the police if we do make it to Ngukurr or Roper Bar. And from what Joe said about uncontrolled blacks being herded into camps, I don’t think Sunday and Monday will want to get into the clutches of the authorities either. Perhaps it’s best just to stay here. We’re getting plenty of fish, we caught a couple of turtles the other day and I can try to shoot a croc again tonight. We can hold on here indefinitely if we want to. At least we have food and shelter.’

‘Sunday told me there’s still plenty of traditional ways to live off the land if we leave the coast. The Aborigines have ways of surviving we know nothing about.’

Koko shrugged ‘We’re not Aboriginal tribesmen, Faith. Neither are the girls. If we head off overland there are other things to consider. To start with, the bloody mosquitoes and sand flies will eat us alive sleeping outdoors. We don’t have immunity like the blacks.’

‘A small price to pay for saving the children, Koko. Even if we had enough proper food and basic medical supplies, we could be stuck here forever, perhaps in the middle of the Japanese Army. We’ve got to go, Koko, while we’ve got the chance. If Joe did go down in that storm and there’s no help coming, we’ve got to get out of here while we’re still strong enough to make it. We’ve got to think of the children. I’ve already spoken to Sunday and Monday. They’re going to find the track this morning. I think we’d better spend the day getting ready to pull up stakes.’

*

The settlement was abandoned just after dawn two days later, after Faith had scanned the ocean one more time for a sign of Faraway. Sunday and Monday had spent the two days catching mullet, as well as a few goannas, snakes and even a small wallaby. Any kind of small container found around the village had been filled with water from the well and Faith had used a sack of salt found in one of the huts to salt the food, hoping to preserve it for at least two, or three days.

The party headed off with Sunday and Koko leading the way and Monday and Faith bringing up the rear. Everyone but the smallest of the girls carried something Those not carrying food or water carried a cooking utensil, a pot or something that Faith thought might come in handy along the way. Koko had Joe’s .303 rifle slung over his shoulder with a full clip of five rounds. Sunday and Monday had fishing nets strung around their waists that had been left behind on the beach when the Army took the Aborigines away.

The track ran westerly along the northern bank of the Rose River. In places close to the water, deep-treaded wheel tracks of Army vehicles were clearly visible, making the way ahead easy to follow. But robbed of sea-breezes, the further inland the party travelled, the hotter it became. After a couple of hours, some of the younger girls were dawdling and constantly asking for water.

By mid-morning the very youngest children were riding on the shoulders of the bigger girls and the adults. Faith knew they must reach a river crossing in order to head south and hoped it would be far enough away from the sea that the water would be fresh so they could top up their containers. Once they left the river, she knew the water would have to be strictly rationed. Just before midday the party stopped in the shade of a clump of tall gums on the riverbank. It had been decided the night before that they would stop for two hours or so during the hottest time of the day to give the children a chance to rest before starting a shorter afternoon walk.

Just before sunset, tired and footsore, they made camp near some rocky, fast-flowing shallows where, from deep wheel ruts leading into the water, they could tell the Army had crossed the river. Faith reckoned they had covered about ten miles during the course of the day. Everyone was tired and many of the children fell asleep the moment they lay down. Faith lay awake a long time, plagued by mosquitoes and uneasily listening to the chorus of the insects of the night. She was staring up into the stars, wondering what had become of Joe, when sleep finally came.

She was woken at dawn by the chatter of wild turkeys and a host of other birds in the trees. Koko told her he had topped up the water containers half an hour earlier with fresh water from the river and that Sunday and Monday had already been over to the other side and back to test the crossing. It seemed the shallows was just a short strip of firm shale which formed a natural ford. Sunday and Monday said it would be safe for the bigger girls to walk across in spite of heavy run-off from the wet still gushing over it, but the smaller children would have to be carried over. After eating salted-mullet and wallaby, which had no taste at all except salt, they broke camp and crossed the river.

The second day passed much the same as the first and the children’s demand for water was just as great. Faith’s plan to ration water wasn’t helped by their breakfast of salted meat. The rough track wound through scorching scrub country. Each dusty, sweltering mile was identical to the one before it. When they stopped at midday, Faith’s feet were aching and swollen. When Koko eased off his shoes, Faith could tell from the watery blisters on his feet that the long hours of walking were just as hard on him. Only Sunday, Monday and the children who wore no shoes at all were untroubled by their feet.

That night they made camp beside the track. Away from the river the mosquitoes were not as bad as the night before and after forcing down more salted fish, everyone slept long and well. In the morning, Faith found what was left of the food was rancid, the extreme daytime temperatures having overcome her attempt at preservation of the meat and it had to be thrown away. Koko said they should remain where they were while he and Sunday and Monday went hunting for food. Sunday and Monday seemed less concerned and said they should continue on and assured Faith they would find something to eat along the way.

Just before midday they were crossing a dried up claypan with small scattered patches of long grass. Sunday told Koko it was a good place to catch wild-turkeys and told Faith to get everyone to hide in the bushes while he and Monday set up a trap. As soon as everyone was hidden out of sight the Aborigines joined several lengths of fish netting together and spread it out over the ground at the end of one of the grass patches. When it was in place, Sunday and Monday cut sticks and made pegs which they drove into the ground to hold down one side of the big net. Then they took two lengths of string, tied one end of each to the loose corners of the net, then tied a small stone to each loose end of the string. Then they walked onto the grass patch and set it on fire.

Dense smoke swirled up into the air and, fanned by a light breeze, the fire raced through the grass. Almost immediately birds of all kinds appeared from every direction and swooped down to feed on the swarms of grasshoppers and other insects which scrambled helter-skelter out of the grass ahead the approaching fire. The first arrivals were smaller birds. They gorged themselves frantically before being driven off by a large gaggle of wild turkeys which moved in for the lion’s share of the unexpected feed.

Sunday and Monday, who had been upwind when they set the fire, now gradually moved downwind behind the flames but still close enough to the fire to be hidden from view by the thick billowing smoke. When they neared the end of the patch of grass, the exodus of insects was at its height. As fast as the hordes of insects emerged from the grass onto the claypan, a sea of cackling turkeys gobbled them down. Then, at the very last moment, Sunday and Monday hurled their stone weighted lengths of string as far and as high as they could, lifting the fishnet up over the feeding frenzy.

Most of the big birds sensed the danger immediately and escaped. But when Sunday and Monday burst out of the smoke, there were more than a dozen turkeys tangled up and struggling to escape from the netting. Koko and Faith led the charge from the bushes to pounce on the big birds and wring their necks while Sunday and Monday, grinning from ear to ear and howling in delight, raced across the claypan in pursuit of two big snakes which had also fled the inferno.

They walked no further that day and made camp at the edge of the claypan and lit fires. It was mid-afternoon before all the turkeys had been plucked, cleaned and cooked along with the snakes. After everyone had eaten their fill, there was food left over. Faith urged everyone to try and eat more because the fresh meat would be spoiled by morning. When darkness came, everyone was sound asleep.

They broke camp early the next morning. Faith was determined to try to make up some of the miles they had lost the day before. Because the wildlife that could provide fresh food might be disturbed by the main party, she sent Koko and Sunday on ahead to hunt, telling them to stop at midday for the usual rest break. In the late morning, Faith heard a single gunshot and later they found Koko and Sunday cooking kangaroo meat over a fire beside the track.

They made around fourteen miles that day. Faith was glad her feet didn’t seem to be swelling anymore and she was amazed at how well the girls were coping. Even at such young ages it was plain they had a natural affinity with the harsh environment. Everything seemed to be going well. No-one was going hungry, and according to Faith’s calculations, with any luck they would reach the Phelp River sometime the next day where they could top up on water.

They followed the same procedure the next day. Sunday and Monday went on ahead to scout for food and hoping to reach the Phelp River by the midday rest break. Sunday knew the closer they got to the river the more wildlife there would be. Around mid-morning they saw hundreds of geese flying low in the distance. Then they saw them suddenly drop down out of sight. Sunday knew the river or a patch of wetland was close.

A little further on they saw kangaroo heading for the same area where the geese had gone down. It was off to the right of the track through a patch of dense brush. Koko and Sunday left the track and began to move cautiously through it. Gradually the vegetation became even thicker and they could barely see more than a few yards ahead. Koko raised the rifle defensively and crept forward, treading softly and intermittently stopping to look and listen. With only four rounds remaining in the clip and with the rifle almost useless against ducks, Koko’s mind was set on kangaroo. Any moment he expected to have one in his sights.

Sunday heard a movement in the scrub ahead of them. He tapped on Koko’s shoulder and raised a finger to his lips. Both men stood still and listened. After a moment, Koko too, could hear the sound of something moving through the foliage directly in front of them. The sounds grew louder and louder. Still they saw nothing. But it was plain either a mob of kangaroo or something very large was approaching.

Koko’s heart began to thump when he realized that with the river or wetlands so close there might be water buffalo roaming about. He wondered if he could keep his nerve if one of the huge beasts suddenly appeared and charged them. As quietly as possible he worked the action of the rifle sending a round up into the firing chamber and leveled the gun at the bushes ahead. The noise in the scrub became even louder. Koko’s heart raced faster. He tried desperately to stay calm. But when he pressed the rifle-butt against his shoulder and held his forefinger on the trigger his hands were trembling. And when he tried to squint through the gun-sights, he couldn’t hold a line because the barrel of the .303 was shaking so badly.

When at last the bushes suddenly parted only about ten yards away, Koko was so startled he didn’t even feel the weight of his finger on the trigger when the gun went off. Instantly he felt a series of searing, stabbing pains and for just a moment before he fell to the ground he stared in disbelief as a soldier repeatedly fired a handgun at him from point blank range.

Sunday turned and bounded away the moment Koko fell. A hail of gunfire whistled around his ears as he dashed back the way he and Koko had come. After a few minutes he emerged unscathed from the thick scrub and looked back. When the soldiers chasing him burst out into the open they were almost a hundred yards behind him.

Sunday was still looking over his shoulder when he saw the soldiers stop running. Now he was plainly visible and a clear running target, the soldiers dropped to their knees and took careful aim. He heard several well spaced shots but none found their mark. He ran like the wind and was just beginning to think he had outrun the soldier’s rifles when a lucky shot hit him in the back of the head. Sunday was dead before he hit the ground.

*

‘They’ve been shot?’ Faith could hardly believe her ears.

She sat opposite an Australian Militia Force lieutenant inside a small clapboard administration hut on the recently established Phelp River Aboriginal Control Camp. Outside the hut, Monday and the half-caste girls sat in the dirt under the watchful eyes of armed soldiers.

‘What did you expect my men to do, Miss Brodie?’ the lieutenant snapped ‘It’s a bloody miracle none of my soldiers were killed. They come under fire from an armed Japanese and an Aborigine who were sneaking up on the control-camp for God only knows what purpose. Did you expect us to offer them a cup of tea or something?

‘Are they badly hurt, Lieutenant?’

‘The Japanese was shot several times in the arms, shoulder and upper chest. He’s damn lucky to be alive. The black is dead.’

Faith gasped. ‘What happens now?’

‘The Japanese will be taken to headquarters in Katherine as soon as possible for interrogation, after which I expect he will be transported south as a prisoner of war.’

‘Prisoner of war? I told you he’s an Australian,’ Faith blurted out angrily. ‘He’s worked for my brother for years. He’s no more the enemy than you are, Lieutenant.’

‘The Army will decide what he is or what he isn’t, Miss Brodie,’ the lieutenant said dismissively. He stood up from the desk. ‘In the meantime, I’ll make arrangements to get you and your half-caste refugees up to the civilian authorities at Roper Bar. They’ll make arrangements to get you all taken south. But the full-blooded Aborigine you call Monday will be detained here at the control camp, of course.’