Welenski hung up the phone and stared at it,
pondering the situation. He was well aware of the growing
relationship between Lyle Hunter and Faith and he disapproved.
Since Dan Rivers, Faith had never discussed anything personal with
him, although they talked often and had become good friends. What
angered Welenski was that he knew what Hunter wanted from Faith
Brodie. It was always the same with the glamour boy from the
liaison office. And once he’d got it he’d drop her like a hot
potato. What amazed Welenski was that Faith had agreed to go to
Point Danger with Hunter. After all, she was too smart not to know
the consequences.
Welenski was drawn from his thoughts when the
office door swung open and several staffers came in together
chatting noisily. He acknowledged them with a wave of his hand,
then got up and wandered through to the lunch room. A cup of coffee
would soothe his head while he tried to think of what to do. When
the brew was made he carried a steaming cup through to Lyle
Turner’s office, closed the door behind him, picked up the phone on
the desk and placed a call through the switch.
A moment later he heard a familiar voice.
‘Navy Liaison Office.’
‘George. It’s Gus. How are you?’
‘Hung over, how about you?’
‘About the same, I guess. Look, George, I
need a favor.’
‘Shoot.’
‘What ships are in Brisbane with Guadalcanal
casualties?’
‘Only one. But she’s a big sucker.
The
George Washington
at the
Hamilton wharf.’
‘When does she sail?’
‘I’ll check.’ There was a slight pause. ‘At
fifteen hundred hours.’
‘Thanks.’ Welenski hung up and immediately
placed another call to a staff sergeant he knew in the Army Medical
Corps. The sergeant hadn’t yet arrived for work so Welenski left
word for him to return the call the moment he came in.
It was almost ten o’clock before the
sergeant called back. Welenski explained the situation and asked
from just how high up the authority would have to be to get Dan
taken off the
George Washington.
The Medical
Corps sergeant didn’t mince words.
He reminded Welenski that the United States Army was a paper
shuffler’s paradise and it would be all but impossible to transfer
Dan ashore in the narrow time frame before the ship sailed, even if
the order was signed by the Chief Surgeon of the Army Medical Corps
himself.
Welenski racked his brain but eventually
resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do.
The non-commissioned officers’ network could usually be counted on
to cut red tape and make things happen in spite of inflexible
administration officers who were always determined to do things by
the book. But this time there just wasn’t enough time. What was
needed was a high ranking well-connected officer with clout.
Welenski was forced to admit to himself that
the only officer he knew with enough pull to make a difference was
Lyle Turner. But in the circumstances it would be unlikely if
Turner would use his influence to help Dan Rivers. But, Welenski
reasoned, how could the Major say no if Faith were to ask him. He
reached for the phone again and put another call through to Point
Danger. The same cheerful receptionist told him that neither Major
Turner or Miss Brodie had returned to the hotel yet. He hung up and
went to the lunch room and poured his fifth cup of coffee of the
morning. At eleven o’clock he was still wrestling with the
situation and thinking of Faith when something she had said long
ago gave him an idea.
Welenski dismissed the idea just as quickly
as it had come. So what if Captain Rivers had told her he knew
General MacArthur, that he had met him informally on a train in
South Australia, and that he and the General had enjoyed more than
just a passing conversation. Welenski smiled to himself. Probably
the story wasn’t even true. The stories American servicemen
invented when they were trying to impress Australian girls were
legendary. Like the hardware store clerk from Galveston who said
his father’s Texas cattle ranch was as big as some European
countries, or the used car salesman from Santa Monica who said that
he knew most Hollywood movie stars by their first names. But
somehow when Faith talked about Dan Rivers, he had never come
across as the sort of guy who was out to impress anyone.
After a few moments, the idea came back again
and Welenski dismissed it again. If it had hit him the night before
after six or seven bourbons he wouldn’t have hesitated for a
minute. But in the cold light of day, and hung-over, the notion
just didn’t seem so bright. But Welenski couldn’t shake it. After a
few minutes he got up from his desk and went into the privacy of
Lyle Turners office and picked up the phone again.
‘Supreme Allied Commander’s office.’
‘It’s Staff Sergeant Welenski, Army liaison.
May I speak with Staff Sergeant Fuller, please?’
‘Staff Sergeant Fuller isn’t available,’ the
female voice replied.
‘When will he be?’
‘Not for a few days, I’m afraid. Would you
like to leave a message?’
‘Welenski sighed. He’d struck out. He
couldn’t use the only contact he had in MacArthur’s fourth floor
inner sanctum. He was about to admit defeat again when he surprised
himself by saying: ‘We have some important information in this
office we feel should be passed on to General MacArthur
immediately.’ The words just seemed to pour out by themselves.
‘I’ll put you through to Lieutenant-Colonel
Parkes, Sergeant’
‘Lieutenant-Colonel Parkes.’
Welenski’s throat went dry. He hadn’t
expected to be transferred to a high ranking officer. He licked his
lips quickly and said, ‘Sir, Staff Sergeant Welenski, Army Liaison.
We’ve had a report of an unidentified casualty from Guadalcanal
aboard the transport
George
Washington
at the Hamilton wharf. It’s just been
ascertained that he’s an Air Corps officer who was reported missing
last November. His name is Captain Dan Rivers. He requires top
level authorization for transfer to a hospital ashore.’
‘Why are you telling me this, Sergeant?’ the
lieutenant snapped angrily. ‘Don’t you people down there in liaison
know there are channels. I suggest you use them. Have Major Hunter
contact the Air Corps. They’ll take it from there.’
Welenski took a deep breath. ‘There’s no time
sir, the ship sails at fifteen hundred hours. We thought your
office should be advised immediately because the officer in
question is known personally by General MacArthur.’
‘Who’s we, Welenski?’
Welenski took a deep breath and closed his
eyes. ‘Major Hunter, sir.’
‘Put him on the line.’
Welenski had no choice but to elaborate on
the lie. ‘He’s not in the office, sir. But he told me to be sure we
got the message through to the general’s office.’
‘
Very well, I’ll see what I can do.’
Parkes’ voice became more accommodating. ‘I’ll have to hang up now,
the general and much of his staff are leaving for Port Moresby
momentarily.’
Welenski hung up the phone and let out a
groan. Sometimes he amazed himself. He’d really stuck his neck out
this time. And he knew there could be serious consequences later,
whether or not anything was done for Captain Rivers. But for the
moment he put his concerns aside. If sticking his neck out made
Faith Brodie happy, it was worth it, and if he’d managed to help
Dan Rivers, that was good too—even if he was an officer.
*
‘I’d given up all hope of anything happening,
when out of the blue, the ambulance showed up at the wharf about
fifteen minutes before the ship sailed,’ Dick said excitedly. He
was so tired he could hardly keep his eyes open as he told Helen of
the events on the wharf earlier in the afternoon. ‘It’s just lucky,
I didn’t know Faith had gone away for the weekend or I’d never have
phoned her at the office.’
‘It’s wonderful news,’ Helen said. ‘Faith
won’t be able to thank you enough when she gets home.’
Dick grinned. ‘I’m not the one she’ll need to
be thanking. ‘This Colonel Kensall down at the ship told me that
someone in the Faith’s office took it right up to the very top. He
said the order to bring Dan ashore came from General MacArthur
himself.’
‘My word, it helps to have friends in high
places.’ Helen was plainly overjoyed. ‘Faith is so lucky to know
Major Hunter. He must have gone out of his way to help Dan. It was
such a decent thing to do.’ Helen suddenly looked very thoughtful.
‘I think perhaps we may have misjudged him, Dick.’
*
Almost two hundred Japanese prisoners
were taken off the SS
George
Washington
at the Hamilton wharf. After two long days
spent bouncing around in Army trucks crossing the dusty Queensland
and New South Wales outback, the defiance that had shown on their
faces on the dock had all but disappeared.
When the long convoy arrived at the
prisoner of war camp at Cowra, it was late in the afternoon and all
the inmates turned out to watch it roll through the main gates. And
in order to ensure an orderly hand over of so many prisoners to the
ageing soldiers of the 22
nd
Garrison Battalion who guarded the camp, a large contingent
of armed soldiers from the nearby Australian Infantry Training
Centre was on hand.
The gates opened onto Broadway, the name
given to the widest of the two dissecting diagonal strips of
no-mans land which divided the camp area into four equal compounds.
Koko watched through the wire as the convoy stopped outside
compound B, in which he and Yakimoto’s group were billeted. Even
before the canvas covers of the trucks were peeled back, everyone
knew the newcomers would be Japanese because the two compounds
housing Italians were already full to overflowing. During the
summer months, the trickle of Japanese prisoners arriving at Cowra
had become a steady stream. But when the prisoners climbed down
from the trucks and lined up in long rows on Broadway, Koko was
surprised at just how many there were.
‘This is a sad day for Japan, Koko.’ The
voice beside Koko was Yakimoto’s. Over the months at Cowra, a
mutual respect bordering on friendship had developed between the
two men. Yakimoto stood grim faced, eyes staring through the fence
wire as the prisoners were pushed roughly into line by Militia
soldiers. ‘It is a disgrace. So many of our countrymen, suffering
such shame.’
‘They are of my race,’ Koko said without
turning his head. ‘But they are not my countrymen.’
‘They are your countrymen because they are
Japanese,’ Yakimoto persisted. ‘You cannot change that. I don’t
have to tell you that a Japanese living in another land is still
always a Japanese. The Australians have already made that plain to
you and all the Japanese internees in this country. Why do you go
on living an illusion. Your true allegiance came through when you
shot at the enemy in the Northern Territory.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you that
was an accident, Yakimoto?’
‘If it was an accident, why did your so
called
countrymen
put you in a
prisoner of war camp? No my friend, you are Japanese and you should
be proud. Our cause is noble in this war. It is our duty to rid our
region of European colonists. The Dutch and the Portuguese came to
enslave and exploit the East Indies and the British used Australia
as a dumping ground for their unwanted human rubbish. These are the
very people who have now betrayed you and taken away your freedom.
What else could you expect from such men. No Koko, you can never be
a European any more than an Australian can ever be an Asian. If
ever any doubt remains in your mind, just look in a mirror. It will
tell you what you are.’
Koko was about to say something when there
was some sort of commotion outside the fence. It seemed the older
guards were having trouble getting the prisoners to respond to
signals and gestures urging them to march through a gate into
Compound B. But when the soldiers from the Infantry contingent
waved their Thompson machine guns menacingly, the prisoners
reluctantly, but defiantly, marched in through the gate.
Yakimoto’s mouth moved in an almost
indiscernible smile. ‘These men still have the spirit of the
samurai, Koko. I shall nurture it. Our number is growing every
month. When both Japanese compounds are full we shall have well
over a thousand men. Almost a small Army. And when the time is
right we shall all do our duty.’
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.