SOMEDAY SOON (31 page)

‘Do not delay, Captain,’ Toki snapped
impatiently. ‘Look at the paper carefully. Surely there must be
something you can tell me.’

Dan stared intently at the piece of paper. ‘I
can make nothing of this yet, Colonel,’ he lied, ‘You must give me
more time.’

Dan had already put the complex jigsaw of
words on the paper together but tried not to let his face show any
sign of comprehension. Like many recent radio signals it concerned
American preparations for a final sweep against the Japanese. He
looked up and saw the skepticism on Toki’s face. It was becoming
more and more difficult to fool him. Over time, Toki’s dogged
determination to crack the code and the long hours spent listening
to the field radio had made him proficient at writing down even the
most complex of the Navajo words he heard. He used the English
alphabet to form the words but when read aloud, they sounded
remarkably similar to words coming over the radio.

What Toki didn’t know was that Navajo was in
fact an unwritten language of extreme complexity which had no
alphabet and had unique syntax and nasal qualities. Even the same
word spoken in two different tones could have two entirely
different meanings. To complicate matters even further, the
messages transmitted were just a jumble of unconnected words which
were quite meaningless in themselves.

Dan had soon realized that the words
actually transmitted represented quite different words in code.
During his days, weeks, perhaps months in captivity, he had
gradually managed to crack the code as he lay feigning sleep, or
pretending to be still comatose from one of his frequent attacks of
malaria. He had discovered quite by accident one day that the word
pronounced ‘
cha-yes-desi’
with
the literal meaning
‘rolled hat’
was the code word for Australia, and
the word sounding ‘
tsidi-moffa-ye-hi’
which literally meant
‘bird-carrier’
was the code word for
aircraft-carrier.

After this breakthrough, Dan had rapidly
built up a large mental dictionary of code words. In the interests
of staying alive, he had even given Toki reason to believe he was
making some headway with the code, passing on fragments of
information which he knew were of no real value to the enemy. Now,
as he stared at the paper trying to think of something to say which
might sound credible he could tell the colonel sensed he was
stalling.

‘You know, don’t you, Captain?’ Toki’s
usually placid composure had suddenly gone. He was shouting at the
top of his voice.
‘You know. You have
broken the code but you are withholding it from me.’
He drew a long sword from its sheath on his belt and raised
the blade high in the air. ‘You have deceived me.’

Two soldiers standing guard outside the radio
hut rushed in, rifles at the ready. Dan braced himself for the
worst. But the colonel’s rage receded just as quickly as it had
risen and he dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand. Toki
lowered the samurai sword , put it back in its sheath and knelt
down beside Dan.

‘I thought we had an understanding, Captain,’
he said softly. ‘I thought we had agreed we were two of a kind, two
people caught up in circumstances not of our making—circumstances
which have taken from us all that we believe in, and everything and
everyone we hold dear. You and I have but one chance to reverse our
fortunes but time is running out. My only hope of returning to my
regiment and my country with honor is to deliver to my superiors
the US Marine code which is the only American code we have never
been able to decipher. You can give me that. In return, you have my
word that I will release you back to Henderson Field.’

‘I have not deceived you, Colonel ’ Dan said
with as much sincerity as he could muster. ‘I am very close to
breaking the code. I just need a little more time.’

Toki sighed. ‘Very well, Captain. I am a
reasonable man. But do not think I would hesitate to kill you if I
find you have been lying to me. And do not let your mind be clouded
by any thoughts of foolish patriotism. Blind nationalism is no more
than prejudice, bred from one-eyed familiarity of things and places
to which one has become accustomed. It is a natural flame which
burns in the hearts of all free people, but it is also a lethal
weapon in the hands of unscrupulous men who would seek to incite
one nation to rise up against another. You above all people must
know that, Captain. I have visited Indian reservations in the
United States. I have seen how your people are forced to live and
the poverty and hopelessness you must endure. I have seen the
exploitation and degradation of your people by white Americans and
how they have suppressed your culture and trampled upon your human
rights. Now they and the Australians ask you to lay down your life
for them. Ask yourself, Captain, are such men worthy of your
loyalty?’

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Faith never thought for one moment that the
night she had dinner with Major Turner at Lennon’s Hotel would be
the start of something between them. At the time it had seemed more
like a command performance than a dinner date, something her boss
wanted to do as a token of his appreciation of her work and to help
her get her mind off the tragedy of Dan on Guadalcanal. But it
hadn’t stopped there.

A few days later he asked her out again. At
first she politely refused, but he persisted, saying that they were
just two people doing a difficult job in trying times and that a
little rest and relaxation in congenial surroundings could do
neither of them any harm. Faith had acquiesced, even surprising
herself at how quickly the polished ex-public relations man from
Cohoes, New York, had been able to change her mind.

That night they went to Lennon’s again. Like
the first time they had been there, the elegant restaurant was
crowded with uniformed American officers and their ladies. Faith
noticed most of the officers were higher ranking than Lyle, but
because of his position as liaison officer at headquarters, many of
them knew him well. Some had taken a moment to socialize briefly on
their way back to their tables from the dance floor. Many of the
ladies present were officers in US Army nursing and medical units
and more than a few of them had seemed to know Lyle and
acknowledged him with a smile or a cursory glance. But none stopped
to make conversation. Faith had smiled to herself. It was plain the
charming Major Hunter had been making the rounds amongst the
ladies.

After the second dinner date, Faith somehow
fell into a routine of seeing Lyle Hunter on a regular basis. They
went to concerts and movies occasionally and often went dining and
dancing. She enjoyed his company and the attentiveness and
thoughtfulness he always showed her made her feel very special. And
she also appreciated the professionalism he showed at headquarters
by never displaying any sign of familiarity or favoritism toward
her during the working day. Faith’s relationship with Lyle Hunter
made her feel safe and secure at a time when almost everyone she
knew lived with the stress and anxiety of pondering the outcome of
the war and the fate of their loved ones serving with the armed
forces overseas.

Faith knew there was no chance of suffering
the emotional upheaval she had experienced with Dan. As much as she
liked Lyle she was sure she would never feel for him the way she
had felt for Dan. Because of that she felt protected against being
hurt again. And she was not being unfair to him because he had
never asked her for anything more than companionship and a
goodnight kiss, or ever indicated that his feelings for her were
any stronger than her own for him. And anyway, she had told him
from the start she wasn’t ready for a relationship which demanded
any commitments.

Faith knew Gus Welenski didn’t approve of the
relationship and she regretted that. Gus was such a nice man and
she knew that he thought the major was just trying to hang one more
scalp on his belt. But Gus was a bloke and that’s what any bloke
would think about a sophisticated man like Lyle Hunter. Faith knew
that was what her aunt and uncle thought too. Dick and Helen had
met him on a couple of occasions when he’d driven her home late at
night. She’d only asked him in once. It had been a little
uncomfortable all around. After that she and Lyle had just sat
outside for a few minutes in his staff car before he said goodnight
and drove away.

Over time Faith was beginning to get over
Dan. It was over six months since they’d held each other tightly in
the rain on the runway at Archerfield the morning he went back to
Iron Range. Now, she could go a whole day without her heart almost
stopping when she thought of him. But it seemed one heartache was
just replaced by another. There had been no word from Joe for
months and the papers were still full of reports of bombing raids
in the Top End. And if that wasn’t enough to worry about, Helen and
Dick had learned from Mike’s last letter, after they deciphered his
prearranged code designed to fool the army censor, that he expected
his field medical unit near Wollongong would soon be shipped to New
Guinea.

*

Joe’s anger knew no bounds when he
heard of Weasel’s encounter with the crew of the
Groote Eylandt Lady.
When the patrol
arrived back at Eagle’s Nest three days after the incident, the
swelling to Weasel’s face had gone down considerably, but his
broken nose, black eyes and cuts and bruises were still stark
evidence of the vicious beating he’d taken. When Weasel told Joe
later what the hanger-on in the bar had said about the Horans and
the Japanese woman in Darwin, Joe was fit to be tied. In the weeks
that followed, unable to do anything about the Horan brothers,
Joe’s rage gradually gave way to a simmering frustration. But he
found consolation in the fact that he now knew the croc-shooters’
names.

One morning in late March, a sail appeared on
the horizon to the north. There was a light south-easterly blowing
over the Gulf and everyone took turns looking through the post’s
powerful telescope. Soon it was plain the boat was heading towards
Eagle’s Nest, but forced to tack against the breeze, her progress
was painfully slow. By midday they could see that the vessel was a
small sloop. She bore no markings, but as she approached she ran up
what looked to be a pennant. Joe squinted into the telescope. He
laughed out loud when he saw it wasn’t a flag at all but an Army
slouch hat. The supply boat with the relieving section had finally
arrived.

The sloop came as close to the shore as her
draught would allow, then two men rowed ashore in a dinghy through
water as smooth as a mill pond. Joe grinned when he recognized one
of the men as Sergeant Xavier Herbert.

‘Sod of a bloody place here by the look of
it, Joe,’ Herbert snapped as he jumped from the dinghy. ‘Can the
boat get into the mouth of the creek? We draw four feet.’

With the tide on the make, Joe said there was
enough water and the second man rowed back to the sloop to tell the
skipper. By dusk the vessel was unloaded and the new section had
taken over. Joe wondered how long it would be before the smart,
clean shaven replacements would look as rough and ragged as the men
who were departing the next morning.

That evening, with all kinds of fresh
supplies to choose from, Smokey cooked a slap-up meal for everyone,
washed down with beer Sergeant Herbert had kept cool in the bilge
of the sloop. Later, as the Nackeroos sat around the fire drinking,
singing and straining to re-read the huge backlog of mail in the
flickering firelight, Herbert produced a bottle and a tin of orange
juice and he and Joe wandered off along the shore in the moonlight.
When they came across a chunk of driftwood lying on the sand they
sat down on it and Herbert uncorked the bottle, punched a hole in
the juice can and pulled two tin mugs from his pocket.

‘I’ve never much fancied beer, Joe.’ Herbert
poured two measures from the bottle into the mugs and added juice.
He held one out to Joe. ‘Here, try this.’

Joe took a sip and gasped as the brew seared
his throat. ‘What the hell is this, Sarge?’

Herbert grinned. ‘My bother David and I make
it ourselves. We call it "white lady". Knocks your socks off,
doesn’t it? It’s made from methylated spirits. We dilute it with
water and boil it up with beef or pork fat to get rid of the metho
taste. Add a little fruit juice and pleasant conversation and its
just like having cocktails in the lounge bar at the Australia Hotel
in Sydney.’

Joe laughed and took another swallow.
After a while he told Herbert about the incident at Borroloola and
the Horan brothers. When he’d finished he said. ‘That woman those
bastards bragged about screwing to death in Darwin, it could only
be one person. I knew her. Her name was Aki Hamada. She was the
mother of my offsider on
Faraway,
Koko Hamada.'

Herbert turned to Joe in surprise. ‘Good God.
You mean Aki Hamada. I knew her husband Hayato well. Before he
died, I ran the pharmacy at the hospital, just a stone’s throw from
their cottage on Myilly Point. Hayato and I used to sit in their
flower garden, drinking saki and watching the pearling boats come
and go. It was the best saki I ever tasted. Hayato brewed it
himself.’ Herbert took a long swallow of white lady. ‘When you told
the CO at Roper Bar about what happened to your boat, it never
occurred to me that your shipmate might be Koko Hamada..’

‘You knew Koko, too?’

‘Just by sight. I saw him once or twice when
he came home from being at sea. It must be your boat he was on.
Poor bastard is in a POW camp now.’