SOMEDAY SOON (36 page)

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.’