CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

When Joe’s section arrived back at Roper Bar from Eagle’s Nest, everyone discarded their filthy ragged uniforms and scrubbed up until they were almost unrecognizable. Then they changed into crisp new uniforms and went to the canteen for the first meal in months that they didn’t have to prepare themselves. After they had eaten, Smokey and Tasker climbed into an Army transport waiting to take them to headquarters in Katherine and ten days leave. Joe and Weasel stood waving at the grinning faces of the farrier and the young jackeroo until the truck rolled outside the camp gate.

Sergeant Herbert wasted no time in talking to the Roper Bar CO about Monday being released from the Aboriginal control camp to join the crew of the Walrus. As Joe waited outside the office he plainly heard Herbert repeatedly counter the CO’s loud objections. It was only after Herbert pointed out that there were already a few experienced black sailors aboard other Nackeroo vessels that the CO finally capitulated. But during the heated exchange it was plain that relations between the CO and Herbert were strained to the very limit.

Early the next morning, armed with a release order for Monday, Herbert and Joe left Roper Bar in a jeep for Phelp River. Along the way Herbert told Joe that the CO had told him he could expect to receive an honorable discharge from the Army within weeks. In the meantime he had been ordered to take the crew of the Walrus to Darwin and then remain there until the discharge came through.

‘Seems to me the vessels of the Northern Australia Observer Unit should be manned by experienced military personnel, not a bunch of blacks,’ a dismayed young Militia lieutenant said when he read Monday’s release order. ‘I suppose the next thing you’ll know we’ll be training them as naval officers.’

Herbert eyed the officer derisively. ‘Perhaps we should, sir. Then we’d have sailors that know our northern waters instead of just Sydney Harbor and Port Philip Bay.’

The lieutenant bristled. ‘Sergeant Herbert… you’re Xavier Herbert, the writer, aren’t you?’ he snapped. ‘I’ve heard about you. You have a reputation as a trouble making, belligerent, opinionated ratbag. It’s pretty obvious how you earned it.’ He got up quickly from his desk, led Herbert and Joe to an outer office and handed the release order to a corporal. ‘Find out where this Abo’s working Corporal, then take these men to him and release him into their custody. And make sure Sergeant Herbert takes full responsibility by having him endorse the back of the release order.’

They found Monday about twenty-five miles to the north-east of Phelp River working in a road gang with about fifty other Aborigines. Supervised by Militia soldiers sitting in the shade of Army trucks, the work party was clearing brush, digging up roots and shoveling dirt on a wide track being pushed through the bush towards the coast. Joe had smiled to himself earlier when the corporal said the track led to an abandoned Aboriginal settlement at the mouth of the Rose River where a Japanese spy had landed a year earlier.

Joe had already seen Monday when the corporal stopped the truck to ask the soldier in charge to identify him. Joe hopped quickly from the vehicle and hurried over to him. Monday looked up from his work when Joe approached him. At first a look of amazement swept over his face, then the young Aborigine grinned from ear to ear.

‘Mr Joe. Oh… Mr Joe.’ Monday was overcome with joy. ‘Is it really you? What you doing here?’

Joe grinned. ‘I’ve got a boat waiting for me in Darwin, Monday. I’ve come to see if you want to sail with me again.’

*

Sergeant Herbert, Joe, Weasel and Monday left in a jeep for Darwin at dawn the next day. Joe was surprised to find that it took much less time to reach the Stuart Highway than it had on the inward journey when they first reported to Roper Bar. But the reason was plain. The dirt road was now more than twice as wide and almost as smooth as a billiard table. Here and there along the hundred mile stretch, gangs of Aboriginal laborers and road graders were working to convert the track into an all-weather route.

But the real eye-opener came when the jeep swung onto the Stuart Highway just south of the township of Mataranka. Now the Darwin-Alice Springs road, which Territorians had always referred to as just ‘the track’, had been transformed from a bush trail into a dust-free ribbon of gleaming black bitumen with military vehicles and heavy transports passing by every few minutes in both directions.

‘Bloody amazing what a war can do, isn’t it?’ Herbert said as Jeep sped smoothly northward. ‘I never thought I’d ever travel this road without choking on dust and jarring every bone in my body. What has been done here is bloody marvelous. We can thank the Australian Civil Construction Corps for building it and the Americans for giving us the tools.’

Between Katherine and Darwin there were several stretches of highway still unsealed. There were hundreds of construction workers at these locations and Joe saw the road building tools Xavier Herbert had referred to. Road base material from mobile rock crushing plants set up at points along the road was being mechanically loaded into huge dual-axle, self-tipping trucks and distributed at high speed to massive graders and heavy compaction rollers. Hot bitumen for the final roadway surface was transported in the same manner from roadside asphalt batching plants along the way. Joe saw all types of heavy construction equipment being used which he had never seen before—even gangs installing telephone lines beside the highway were equipped with mechanical post hole diggers.

‘The Yanks don’t mess about, do they?’ Herbert said. ‘I heard when they wanted to extend the RAAF runway at Batchelor Field to accommodate Flying Fortresses, the Civil Construction Corps said it would take three or four months to complete the project. So the Air Corps called in US Army Engineers and they did the job in nine days.’

As they neared Darwin, Joe realized how much the area had changed in little over a year. A massive concentration American and Australian servicemen was evident everywhere. What had once been a wide-open and hopelessly defenseless gateway to the entire continent of Australia was now a huge Allied camp. Sergeant Herbert estimated there were now close to seventy-five thousand troops in the Top End, armed with the most modern weapons of war.

What had been there for the taking in early 1942, if the Japanese had decided to land, would now require a massive full scale invasion by land, sea and air forces. If that was the purpose of the reported big build up of Japanese forces on Timor, Joe reckoned they would need every man they could muster, and even then the enemy would have no certainty of gaining a foothold in the Northern Territory.

Joe shuddered to think how vulnerable the Top End had been a year earlier. And his anger rose when he thought of the awful price northern Australians could have paid for the ineptitude and treachery of far off southern politicians who had secretly conspired to surrender the greater part of the continent to the Japanese if the going got too tough. He glanced at the gaunt face of Xavier Herbert behind the wheel of the Jeep and knew the deep personal betrayal the sergeant must have felt when he had learned about the Brisbane Line contingency plan.

Joe pushed his anger aside and turned to Weasel and Monday. They smiled back at him from the cramped space in the rear of the Jeep. Joe turned back around and looked up the wide strip of bitumen. Life wasn’t so bad, he reckoned. Darwin was only fifteen minutes away now. He was almost home. Soon he’d be aboard a sailing boat again and be able to leave the constraints of the land behind him as he breathed in pure salt air and felt a gently heaving deck beneath his feet.

*

General MacArthur had only been minutes away from taking off from Archerfield airfield to convene a meeting of Allied commanders at his advance headquarters in Port Moresby when an aide had told him about Dan. As he hurried across the tarmac to his waiting aircraft he had instructed the aide to ensure that Captain Rivers was transferred ashore immediately and taken to the finest medical facility available. Within the hour Dan had been taken by ambulance to the 12th Australian Army General Hospital in the Brisbane suburb of Greenslopes.

When Faith arrived home from Coolangatta the following evening, Lyle Turner didn’t come into the house and he had driven away before the Brodie’s had a chance give Faith the good news. Faith was overjoyed, but soon became subdued when Dick told her of the terrible condition Dan was in. And when he told her of the part that Major Hunter must have played in getting Dan transferred from the ship to Greenslopes, Dick thought she seemed to be a little bewildered.

The next morning Faith was already at the office when Gus Welenski arrived.

‘I heard the wonderful news last night, Gus.’ She kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘Only you could have made something like that happen. If you’d phoned me I’d have come home right away. I told you I was going to Point Danger.’

‘I did phone, Faith.’ Welenski looked her directly in the eye. ‘But you didn’t tell me the major was going down there with you.’

Faith felt her cheeks flush. She glanced at the sergeant apprehensively. ‘It’s not what you think Gus… really.’

Welenski looked unconvinced. ‘It doesn’t matter what I think. The main thing is the Australians are giving Captain Rivers the very best of care at Greenslopes. That’s all that matters.’

‘How did you do it Gus?’

‘You told me that Captain Rivers knew General MacArthur.’

‘Oh, Gus.’ Faith’s mouth dropped in amazement. ‘You’re brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. What on earth did you say?’

‘I told a few whites lies and used the major’s name. When he finds out I don’t think he’ll think I’m so brilliant.’

Faith glanced around the office. ‘He’s not in yet?’

‘He’s got this usual early Monday morning meeting on the fourth floor.’ Welenski glanced at his watch and winced. ‘Lieutenant-Colonel Parks is probably discussing Captain Rivers with him right now.’

It was mid-morning when Lyle Hunter came down from the fourth floor. Faith and Welenski both looked up from their desks when he walked into the office. Hunter ignored Welenski but summoned Faith to join him right away in his private office.

‘I’ve just been filled in on this business with Captain Rivers,’ Hunter said tersely when Faith closed the office door behind her. ‘It turned out the old man asked Parkes to convey his personal thanks to me for getting my staff to advise him about the situation so promptly. I went along with everything because no harm was done. But Welenski went too far this time. I’m going to transfer him out of this office.’

‘Gus meant no harm, Lyle,’ Faith said defensively. ‘He was doing it for me.’

‘Is it really what you want?’ Hunter snapped. He walked to the window and looked out for a moment then turned around and looked Faith directly in the eye. ‘After this weekend, I thought we…’

‘I don’t really know what I want, Lyle. Suddenly everything has turned a full circle and I’m confused. But I’m so glad Dan is alive. I just hope he pulls through. I was hoping I could go over to Greenslopes some time today.’

‘Parkes said he’s in pretty bad shape.’

‘I know. My uncle said he probably wouldn’t recognize me even if they let me see him. But I’d like to go anyway.’

Hunter sighed. ‘Give me an hour to sort out the urgent stuff around here, Faith. Then I’ll drive you over there.’

At the hospital in Greenslopes, Faith and Hunter were directed to the nursing station in Ward 3 where Captain Rivers had been placed in a private room under intensive care. Sister Margo Horwood, the nursing sister in charge told them Dan’s condition was critical and that under no circumstances could anyone see him. When Hunter said they were from American Headquarters and needed to positively identify Dan, she reluctantly allowed them to look through a small window in the door of his room.

Faith gasped when she looked through the glass. Dan was lying sedated on the bed with the upper sheet drawn to his waist. He was attended by a doctor and two nurses and in the process of receiving a blood transfusion. She looked in horror at his haggard face, at the ugly cold sores which covered his lips and at the ribs which were almost poking out of his skeletal frame. Tears sprang to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. When she turned away a moment later, Sister Horwood took her arm and led her off to one side.

Faith wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘I was told he had blackwater fever,’ she said between sobs. ‘What exactly is that?’

Sister Horwood waited a moment until Lyle Hunter joined them after taking a quick look through the glass. ‘Blackwater fever is a very serious complication of malaria,’ she said gravely. ‘It’s called blackwater fever because the patient’s urine usually turns brown or almost black. It is very rare but it sometimes occurs after long and repeated malarial attacks. There is a rapid breakdown of red blood cells and the kidneys cease to function properly. If the kidney failure is complete, it’s fatal. After reading the report we received from the medical officer aboard the George Washington, I’d say Captain Rivers is fortunate to be alive after all he’s been through.’.

Faiths eyes widened. ‘But he will pull through, won’t he, Sister?’

‘With the proper treatment, including blood transfusions, careful use of antimalarial drugs and complete rest he stands an excellent chance. But he will need intensive care for a considerable period of time. And sometimes things go wrong. Not all patients react the same way to treatment. For instance, quinine helps in some cases but in others it only makes it worse.’ Sister Horwood took Faith’s hand and squeezed it. ‘But you can be sure we’ll give him the very best of care here. And if you’d like to keep in touch with me, I’ll let you know just as soon as he’s well enough to have visitors.’

‘Thank you so much, Sister.’ Faith wiped away the last of her tears. ‘I’ll do that.’

Sister Horwood walked Faith and Hunter to the main hospital entrance. Just before they stepped outside she said, ‘You know, poor Captain Rivers really has had more than his fair share of bad luck. As I said, blackwater fever is extremely rare anyway, but this is the first time any of us here has ever seen a non-Caucasian contracting it.’

‘Non-Caucasian… what do you mean?’ Hunter asked quickly.

‘On the medical report we received from the ship, it states Captain Rivers is an Aboriginal, Major Hunter,’ Sister Horwood said. ‘Or as you would say in the United States, he’s an Indian.’

*

Generals Douglas MacArthur and George Blamey sat at each end of the long conference table in the gracious old residence in Port Moresby which served as MacArthur’s advance headquarters. On each side of the table sat high ranking Australian and American officers from all three services of the armed forces.

‘Gentlemen,’ MacArthur began, ‘since the last time we convened here we have achieved a great deal of the objectives set for us by the Chiefs of Staff at that time. By pushing the enemy into the sea at Gona, Buna and Sanananda we have driven him out of Papua. And by reinforcing our land forces at the village of Wau, we have managed to maintain a foothold in north-eastern New Guinea which of course is the lynchpin of the enemy’s western defensive perimeter in the South Pacific. But our victories came at terrible cost and I know you all share the same personal grief I feel, with respect to the number of casualties we have sustained.’

MacArthur paused, lit his pipe cigar and tugged on it hard, sending a thick cloud of smoke swirling up into the ceiling fans overhead. ‘But, Gentlemen, we must press on. The time has come to implement the next stage of our overall offensive. It will be undertaken in coordinated phases. Firstly, US Army combat teams will take the islands of Kiriwina and Woodlark in the Trobriand Islands from the Japanese forces presently occupying them and our engineers will construct airfields. In the second phase, five Australian divisions will drive the enemy from Lae, Salamaua, Madang, Finschafen and western New Britain.’

There was a murmur from around the table.

‘Yes, Gentlemen—five divisions.’ MacArthur nodded his head in satisfaction. ‘Because of recent legislation in Canberra allowing conscripts to be sent outside Australian territories, it is now possible for Australian forces to mount such a large scale offensive. Now, in the third phase of the offensive, a United States Marine Division, will push north through the Solomon Islands to Bougainville. Once again, we expect a long, hard campaign with high casualties. But when we have achieved these objectives, Rabaul will be ours for the taking. After that, we’ll be on our way to Manila and Tokyo.’

‘But can the Australians commit five divisions to New Guinea bearing in mind the current Japanese build up in Timor,’ one of the American officers asked. ‘Will there be still be enough troops in the Northern Territory should the Japanese invade the Australian mainland?’

MacArthur gestured to general Blamey who took his cue. ‘We believe Northern Australia can be defended with the Allied forces presently in and around Darwin,’ Blamey said. ‘In any event, we believe once we take on the enemy in strength in north-east New Guinea and New Britain, the bulk of his forces in Timor will be sent to that front anyway.’

‘And what of shipping, sir? another officer asked, ‘If we are to expect high casualties, what additional provisions have been made to transport the wounded.’

MacArthur fielded the question. ‘The shipping situation is improving at last. We have several American vessels presently being converted into hospital ships for service in the Pacific theatre and in the meantime another Australian hospital ship, the Centaur, was commissioned very recently to join the three others already in service.’

MacArthur signaled to an aide who began to distribute documents and maps around the conference table. ‘Gentlemen, we will now look in detail at the complexities of the upcoming offensives.’

*

The first thing Joe wanted to do the morning after he arrived in Darwin was to see the Walrus. Joe and Herbert left Weasel and Monday at Larrakeyah Army Barracks where everyone was billeted and made straight for the naval yard beside the harbor. The moment Joe laid eyes on the Walrus he could see the old sailing vessel lived up to her name .

Like the snub nosed, lumbering sea creature first called ‘valross’, meaning sea horse, by Norsemen, and then later, walrus, by the English, the forty foot timber ketch was a strong, sturdy, but cumbersome looking boat. Before arriving at Darwin she had never made a passage without a press of wind in her red canvas sails. But that was all changed now. When Joe and Xavier Herbert clambered aboard her, Captain David Herbert and an Army mechanic had just finished installing an inboard petrol engine.

‘She’s not much to look at and there’s not a lot to show for all the work we’ve put in on her over the last few weeks,’ Captain Herbert said soon after they came aboard. ‘But she’s well found vessel and ready to go out on patrol. In fact we were just about to take her out and put her through her paces.’ e He turned to Joe. ‘As her new skipper, perhaps you’d like to take the helm?’

‘I’d like nothing more.’

Joe glanced at Xavier Herbert who turned to his brother and said, ‘ Joe and his sister have a house here in Darwin, David. So does a Japanese friend of theirs. We were going to take a quick look at them before we did anything else.’

David Herbert shrugged. ‘When did you see the house last?’

‘About a year ago,’ Joe said.

‘Then brace yourself for a big disappointment. You must have seen when you came into town last night there’s not too many places left standing. There’s been over fifty enemy air raids in the past twelve months. Unfortunately, what the Japs haven’t destroyed in Darwin, has been willfully vandalised by civilians. Some say the locals and the servicemen stationed at bases around here have done a lot more damage than the Japs.’

‘If you’d rather familiarize yourself with the boat, Joe,’ Xavier said. ‘I’ll stay ashore while you fellows take the Walrus out. It’s been a long time since I lived in Darwin. There are a few people and places I’d like to check up on myself. While I’m at it, I’ll take a look at your place and the Hamada cottage, if you like.’

From the moment the Walrus’s mooring lines were let go Joe was in his element. It didn’t matter that the old ketch was slower, harder to handle, and wasn’t as comfortable below as Faraway. The fact that he had a sailing boat beneath his feet again more than made up for that. David Herbert told Joe that before being commandeered by the Army, the Walrus had been used in waters around Broome as a poor man’s pearling lugger, since well before the turn of the century.

After a few adjustments, the newly installed forty-five horse power engine pushed the Walrus along at almost seven knots. Later, Joe familiarized himself with the vessel’s workings under sail and carefully inspected everything in her inventory. It was plain Captain Herbert enjoyed seeing the ketch being put through her paces by an experienced skipper.

It was almost three hours before they sailed back into the naval facility. As they neared the wharf Joe saw a grey-haired Northern Territory Police trooper standing on the dock beside Sergeant Herbert. When Joe recognized him as his old friend Sergeant George Maxwell, he shouted out a loud greeting and threw the policeman a mooring line.

‘I ran into Sergeant Herbert earlier this morning,’ George Maxwell said a few minutes later when everyone shared a billy of tea under a tent awning slung over the Walrus’s boom. ‘We knew each other when he was the pharmacist at the hospital. He’s filled me in on what happened to everyone on Faraway since you all slipped away that night.’ The sergeant shook his head sadly. ‘From what he told me about Koko, it would have gone a lot better for him if he had given himself up, you know’

‘Things are always easier to judge in hindsight, George,’ Joe said. ‘At the time, and under the circumstances, it seemed the best thing to do.’

The police sergeant cupped his hands around his mug of tea and stared into it. ‘We never did charge anyone over his mother’s death, you know, Joe. When Xavier told me that you reckon Aki was murdered by a couple of sea-tramps, it jogged my memory. When I was making investigations after she was killed, an Army lieutenant happened to tell me he’d had a run-in with two croc shooters at the railway station the night it happened. They told him they had a boat called the Groote Eyelandt Lady, anchored at Mindil Beach—as you know that’s only a stone’s throw from the Hamada place.’

‘Joe reckons the bastards may well be fifth columnists as well as murderers,’ Xavier Herbert said. ‘It seems that boat is always around whenever there’s Japanese air raids.’

‘I’ll notify every Nackeroo small craft across the Top End to be on the lookout for that vessel,’ Captain Herbert interjected. ‘It’ll be just a matter of time before someone spots it.’

Joe turned to Xavier. ‘Did you get a chance to see the houses, Sarge?’

‘Yes,’ Xavier said sadly. ‘I’m afraid there’s not much left of either one.’

George Maxwell signed in exasperation. ‘This town has gone mad since Japs started bombing, Joe. There’s no respect for property or law and order. Nobody gives a damn. Darwin’s still under martial law, of course. I only come up here from Katherine occasionally. At first I tried to keep an eye on private property but after awhile it just became hopeless. If you and Faith ever come back after the war you’ll have to rebuild. There’s nothing left of the house except a framework shell. And Aki Hamada’s cottage is in worse shape.’