SOMEDAY SOON (26 page)

With Japanese soldiers and General Horii
astride his big white horse now knocking on the door, the word in
the bunkers of the Allied commanders in Port Moresby was that the
fortress and its hard-pressed defenders would now pay the ultimate
price for MacArthur and Blamey having sent too few AIF
reinforcements, too late. They felt that the generals, sitting
safely a thousand miles away in Brisbane, had never understood the
complexity of the jungle warfare being waged in New Guinea or the
terrible conditions and supply problems that existed on the Kokoda
Track. Whether their assessment was correct or not didn’t change
the feeling of impending doom in Port Moresby. It was plain to
everyone, including Dan, that Port Moresby would fall, unless
something dramatic happened, and very soon.

*

When news of the Australian withdrawal to the
last ditch position at Imita Ridge reached Brisbane, something
dramatic did happen. General MacArthur immediately laid the blame
on the Australian field commanders in New Guinea. He said that the
Japanese soldiers had to fight in exactly the same conditions on
the Kokoda Track as the Australians, and in spite of having to
maintain a much longer supply line, they had still driven the
diggers further and further back. MacArthur said the problem was
clearly one of command and demanded that John Curtin send General
Blamey to Port Moresby to take direct control of the situation.

Under intense pressure from MacArthur and
smarting from a lack of confidence from the jittery Australian War
Cabinet, Blamey went to Port Moresby and relieved General Rowell,
the New Guinea Force Commander. Then he began a purge of Australian
field commanders and publicly derided the officers and men of the
AIF 21st Brigade. He called a parade of the entire formation near
Imita Ridge and told them that ‘only running rabbits get shot’, 'a
soldier should not be afraid to die’ and that he expected them to
redeem themselves after their defeat in the Owen Stanleys.

But to the diggers at Imita Ridge, and to the
Allied flyers who supported them with daily air strikes on the
Japanese supply line, Blamey’s diatribe meant nothing. The careers
of far-off commanding generals and their political masters in
Canberra and Washington might well depend on whether Port Moresby
fell or not, but everyone in Port Moresby knew it would be the men
who did the fighting, the diggers behind the guns on Imita Ridge,
who would decide the final outcome. Neither late changes in command
nor political expediency were going to alter the culmination of the
long-running and heartbreaking struggle to save Port Moresby. The
die for the final battle at Imita Ridge had been cast weeks
earlier, high in the Owen Stanley Ranges when the Australian
Militia and the AIF had first fought side by side.

With no tactical option open other than the
counter-offensive planned by General Rowell and his field commander
at Imita Ridge, General Blamey was obliged to follow the original
plan. The diggers and their officers had said long before Blamey
arrived that they would hold Imita Ridge or they would die, because
it was the last place from where they could mount a
counter-offensive and drive the Japanese back down the Kokoda
Track. Rowell’s strategy was based on suspicions that the enemy was
hurting badly, as the Australians themselves had been when they
held forward positions on the Kokoda Track. And with the enemy’s
supply line from the north being so long and under constant aerial
bombardment, he was certain food and ammunition for General Horii’s
troops had to be running very low.

The Japanese were consolidating just three
miles from Imita Ridge on another hill called Iorabaiwa Ridge. It
was from there they would launch their final assault. The
Australians knew the enemy’s only hope of sustenance was either
from the spoils of war at Port Moresby, or from the few supplies
still getting through over the Owen Stanleys. And they were certain
that if they denied the enemy victory at Imita Ridge, then threw
every thing they had at them in a counter-offensive, the Japanese
would have to withdraw or starve to death. But first the diggers
had to hold Imita Ridge. And hold it they did.

When the counter-offensive was launched, the
Australian advance was swift. As they pushed the enemy back down
the Kokoda Track, their suspicions that the enemy was in poor
condition proved to be well founded. As they pressed forward, the
diggers came across many isolated groups of Japanese soldiers who
had been abandoned by the main force because they were too weak
from hunger and sickness to keep up with the pace of the retreat.
They also found near-dead native carriers, their feet worn through
to the bone, who had been forced at bayonet point to carry the
supplies that had made it over the mountains, and the bodies of
many others who had been forced to work until they dropped.

In the weeks that followed, the Australian
advance was slowed as the enemy became better supplied and as
conditions worsened near the summit of the Owen Stanley Range. In
the air, Allied flyers continued their assault on the Japanese
supply line and flew sorties over enemy positions at Gona and Buna,
and attacked shipping bringing reinforcements from Rabaul. Slowly
and surely the enemy was forced back, ridge by ridge, village by
village, through dense jungle, and across mountains, rivers and
streams towards the village of Kokoda. Casualties on both sides
were high. And not all were soldiers. On one creek bed just south
of Isurava the advancing diggers found the remains of General
Horii’s great white horse.

*

Faith eased smoothly into the routine of her
stenographer’s job with the US Army Liaison office. There was
always a heavy workload which seemed to grow daily. Most of the
work was boring and repetitive report and correspondence typing,
but she went about her work conscientiously and efficiently.
Gradually Sergeant Welenski and Major Hunter came to rely on Faith
for more and more administrative work and she did less and less
typing. After three months Major Hunter made her his personal
secretary.

As time went by with no sign of Dan, Faith
became increasingly concerned. From information going around the
office, she knew that Iron Range and most of the American bases in
the north were now operational. She had heard, too, that because of
violent tropical storms that plagued the area around Iron Range,
many aircraft had been lost when returning to base after bombing
missions over New Guinea, Bougainville and the Solomon Sea. With
each passing day, the feeling that something must have happened to
Dan grew. And although Faith tried hard to dispel her anxiety by
throwing herself into her work, often putting in twelve hours a
day, eventually it became plain to everyone that something was
deeply troubling her.

At the end of October with the Japanese in
retreat along the Kokoda Track, General MacArthur decided to set up
advance headquarters in Port Moresby. Like most departments at
Brisbane headquarters, the Liaison office was working long hours to
provide logistical support.

‘All right, Faith,’ Sergeant Welenski said
one evening, after he and Faith had worked late, ‘let’s go home.’
He waved an arm around the office as he headed for the door. ‘No
matter how long we stay here tonight there’ll be plenty of work
waiting for us in the morning.’ Welenski grinned. ‘Come on, I’ll
drive you home.’

Since Faith had become Major Hunter’s
secretary, transportation home had always been arranged for her
when she worked late. Usually a driver from the motor pool would
take her home in a staff car but if there wasn’t a vehicle
immediately available, Welenski would sometimes drive her home in
his jeep.

‘It’s all right, Sergeant,’ Faith said
quickly. She straightened up her desk and got up. ‘I’ll try the
motor pool. New Farm’s too far out of your way.’

‘Look, Faith, New Farm isn’t far out of my
way and how many times have I got to tell you to call me, Gus?
Anyway, I want to talk to you.’

Faith smiled. She’d liked Gus Welenski from
the day she started work with the Americans. The sergeant was a
cheerful, heavy-set man in his mid-thirties. He’d seemed out of
place at first. He didn’t look like a clerk at all. He looked more
like the open air type, a construction worker or a truck driver.
But she soon discovered that beneath the rough exterior was a
gentle man who had a reputation for getting things done, getting
along well with everyone and knowing anyone who mattered at
headquarters.

‘You know something, Faith?’ Welenski said,
as he opened the office door for her. ‘That’s the first smile I’ve
seen from you all day. How about we go over to the American Centre,
grab a drink and a bite to eat?’

‘Oh, no thanks, Gus.’ Faith said. ‘I’d better
be going home.’

Welenski took her arm as they walked
downstairs. ‘Look, Faith. We all like you around here and please
don’t think I’m making a pass at you. I’ve got a wife and a couple
of kids back in Boise, Idaho. But a couple of drinks will cheer you
up, and I want to know what’s putting the dampers on your
personality these days.’

The American Centre was just a few minutes
walk from headquarters. As Welenski guided Faith to a corner table
in one of the centre’s restaurants, Faith saw several familiar
faces from headquarters and many of the men in uniform acknowledged
Welenski. When they sat down, Welenski ordered a beer for himself
and a shandy for Faith.

Welenski saw the look of surprise on her
face. ‘Think I don’t know what Aussie Sheila’s drink, huh? ‘ He
grinned. ‘I know what their poison is.’

Faith couldn’t help but laugh.

‘That’s more like it. See, now your laughing,
already.’

When the waitress returned with the drinks,
Welenski took a long swallow then laid his glass down. ‘Okay,
Faith, how about telling your Uncle Gus what’s troubling you? Is it
a man?’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘You’ve been showing all the usual
signs.’

‘Oh, what are they?’

‘Anxiety, sadness, that sort of thing It’s
all in the eyes, you know. Is he a serviceman?’

Faith took a sip from her glass, then nodded
her head.

‘Sometimes it’s hard when something nice
ends,’ Welenski said gently.

‘Oh, I’m not trying to get over anyone. I
just haven’t seen or heard from him.’

‘For how long?’

‘A few months.’

‘Is he on active duty?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sometimes it’s better to hear nothing. Where
is he, Europe, the Middle East or New Guinea?’

Faith shook her head. ‘He’s at Iron
Range.’

Welenski eyebrows rose. ‘He’s an
American?’

‘He’s an Army Air Force officer.’

Welenski pondered the situation for a few
moments, then said, ‘They’ve been pretty busy up there at Iron
Range flying round-the-clock missions, hitting Jap convoys trying
to reinforce Gona and Buna. ’

‘I know. That’s why I can’t help worrying all
the time, Gus. I’d give anything to know if he’s all right.’

‘Well there’s no chance of mail out of places
like Iron Range. Those places are the front line for fly boys. And
besides, maybe…’ Welenski eyed Faith cautiously, as if he were
searching for the right words. ‘How long have you known this guy?
How well do you know him? You know, sometimes…’

‘Come on, Gus, now you’re the one showing the
signs. I know what you’re thinking.’ Faith tried to force a smile.
‘He’s not the kind of man who would just string me along, then drop
me cold.’

Welenski shrugged. ‘Then we’d better find out
if he’s okay. First thing tomorrow morning, I’ll make some
enquiries.’

‘Can you do that?’

‘You haven’t been around headquarters very
long, Faith. If you had you’d know that it’s not officers that run
this Army, it’s staff-sergeants. If you want to get anything done
or find anything out, you talk to a staff-sergeant, okay?. We’ve
got a pipeline that runs from here to the Pentagon.’

Faith laughed again. ‘I’ll remember that Gus.
And thank you so much.’

‘Consider it done, Faith. ‘What’s the lucky
man’s name?’

‘It’s Dan Rivers. Captain Dan Rivers.

*

General MacArthur established his advance
headquarters in Port Moresby’s most sumptuous private residence, a
beautiful hillside home overlooking the sea, surrounded by tropical
flower gardens. The Australian successes at Milne Bay and more
recently on the Kokoda Track had given his command its first land
victories in the war and he was determined to keep the momentum
rolling. Within hours of his arrival, the general summoned his
senior commanders and began laying plans to drive all Japanese
forces out of New Guinea.

As yet, although a large number of American
engineering and supply units had been busy building roads,
airfields and communication lines and fortifying the entire Top End
of Australia, US Army ground combat forces had made little
contribution to the war in the Pacific. Now, assured by senior
officers that American infantry battalions training in Queensland
were finally combat-ready, orders were issued to send large numbers
to New Guinea to join the Australians for a massive assault on the
Japanese strongholds at Buna and Gona.

After the initial plans for the offensive had
been drawn, the Allied commanders were invited to join General
MacArthur and his aid, General Sutherland, for dinner at
headquarters before the generals returned to Brisbane. During the
course of the evening the US Air Corps commander from the Seven
Mile Dome arrived unannounced at headquarters accompanied by a US
Marine Colonel. After a security officer had whispered in
MacArthur’s ear, the pair entered the dining room to state their
business.

‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ MacArthur greeted
them cordially. He looked at the Marine Colonel who stood rigidly,
cap in hand, just inside the door. He smiled. ‘Are you going to
tell me the Marines have landed now we’ve got the enemy on the
run?’