The Turning Tide (17 page)

‘The Japanese. What they’ve done to us, to half the world.’

‘It’s not all of them, Anna. The ones we knew in Broome were different.’

‘
All
of them, Mike.’ She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘What I’ve seen. You could not imagine. Damn all of them to hell.’ She took a deep breath and smiled coldly.
‘Now you understand why I don’t get invited to dinner parties anymore.’

‘Oh, sis.’ I took her hand. ‘You need to stop work for a while. Have a rest.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t. Too much to do and not enough shoulders to carry the load.’

The waiter brought our plates to the table.

Anna smiled at me. ‘Ah, come on Mike. Don’t worry about your bitter old sister. Eat, drink, be merry. This steak looks damned good.’

I was twenty-three. My bitter old sister was all of twenty-four.

Chapter 17

I’m nervous about being late to the restaurant, so I’m exactly on time. Lena’s there already. She gives me a smile but it’s a little more subdued than usual.

‘Hi, Mike. Dad said you were coming along to talk some more about my grandfather. I’m glad you two are getting on.’

‘Well it was touch and go. I feared for my life at one point,’ I say.

She laughs. ‘He scares everyone like that. It’s because he’s a skipper, they have to be in charge all the time.’

‘Really? I think it’s natural talent. So. How are you?’

Her eyes flicker to mine. ‘I see you’ve already heard.’ She takes a breath. ‘I’m okay, I think. It’s funny, I had a feeling he was being evasive about something, so it’s a relief to know why.’

‘I guess it probably means forgoing any hopes your parents will get back together again.’

‘I wasn’t the kind of kid who spent years wishing for that, Mike.’ She gives me a small smile. ‘But I
was
the kind of kid who hated being an only child. So it might be nice to have a little sister.’

Just then Ian and a pretty Chinese woman come into the restaurant with a baby in a carrier. They sit down with us, bustling, apologising for being late.

Ian clears his throat and says, ‘Lena, Mike, this is my wife Suyin and baby Jessica. Suyin, this is my daughter Lena, and a family friend Mike.’

‘You’ve been practising that in front of the mirror for hours, haven’t you, Dad?’

‘Sprung,’ says Ian, with a grin. ‘But wouldn’t you? Sweetie, I’m nervous.’

‘Don’t be, Dad.’ Lena looks at Suyin. ‘Can I see her, please?’

‘Of course,’ says Suyin. She lifts the small gurgling bundle from the basket and passes her carefully to Lena.

Lena holds her in the crook of her arm, looking down. I see her face go from polite interest to intrigue to fascination in a few seconds. She says softly, ‘Oh … oh, Jessica. Little Jess. Yes, there you are. You’re Jessie.’

Suyin and I catch each other’s eyes and smile. She’s older than I’d imagined, late thirties, gentle-faced. She’s in an elegant suit, hair in a loose bun.

‘I for one cannot comprehend how babies eat up so much
time
,’ says Ian in mock despair.

‘Don’t worry, Dad, when she’s a deckhand you’ll be able to hurry her along.’

‘As if I’d ever be allowed to take her to sea,’ says Ian, and Suyin laughs quietly.

I ask, ‘Are you involved with Ian’s ship, Suyin?’

‘No, not at all, Mike. I had never been to sea until I met Ian. I’m a medical researcher.’

‘
Are
you?’ says Lena. ‘I’m studying physics. I’d love to do research one day. What’s your field?’

‘The effects of low-level radiation,’ says Suyin.

My heart thumps painfully and I find myself staring at her.

‘Really? Dad, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Well, I’ve hardly had time,’ Ian protests.

Lena looks down at the dozing baby.

She says thoughtfully, ‘Wow. A new sister and a medical researcher stepmother. That is
so
cool.’

She laughs. ‘Okay, Dad. I’m totally won over. We can all relax now.’

We pick up the menus and start discussing entrees and luckily no one seems to notice my hand is shaking.

At the start of 1945 the Lugger Maintenance Section was in a state of excitement. Services Reconnaissance Department had been split up into groups, one with direct responsibility for Timor. And instead of working from a mansion in Melbourne, the new head was based here at the LMS and operations were again in the pipeline.

I was helping get some of the boxes of papers from Melbourne organised into filing cabinets at the LMS when I heard familiar chuckles. Looking up I saw Johnny and Alan at the door, enjoying my struggle to shut a bursting drawer.

‘Glad to see we’ve got something to really frighten the Japs now,’ said Alan. ‘Paper’s the new secret weapon, I hear.’ ‘You bastards!’ I said. ‘Where’d you come from?’ We hugged, laughing and pounding each other’s backs. They told me they’d just arrived by aeroplane from Brisbane.

‘We’ve got a mission, Mike, at last,’ said Johnny.

He looked good – healthy, brown, hair bleached silver by the sun. Alan, too, was solid and muscular and tanned. Over a beer at the mess they told me about their time training hundreds of agents in the glorious Queensland tropics.

‘So what’s this mission you’ve got yourselves tangled up in? Why not stay in paradise?’

‘Even paradise has its limits,’ said Johnny. ‘I’m itching to get back into action. Mike, we’ve learnt so much since the Prom. That was kids’ stuff. You wouldn’t believe what we know now.’ He and Alan grinned at each other.

‘Will it stop bullets?’ I said.

Johnny shook his head. ‘Oh ye of little faith. Open another bottle, for God’s sake.’

‘So when do you leave?’ I said, refilling our glasses.

‘Tomorrow night. Operation Viper,’ said Alan. ‘We’re going in to relieve the Lagarto blokes.’

‘So soon?’ I was shocked. ‘Jesus, be careful. You remember I told you I was worried about Lagarto.’

‘But they’ve been reporting back for a good nine months since then,’ said Alan. ‘Surely if there was something wrong, SRD would’ve noticed by now. They aren’t total fools.’

‘Keep in mind I’ve actually met the Melbourne crowd, mate, and I’d beg to differ.’

He chuckled and we darted off onto other topics, drinking and laughing. But as the night drew on I sensed
painful undercurrents: Johnny’s mood became bitter and he left for his bunk.

‘Flynn, what’s wrong with him?’ I asked. ‘I thought you’d just had six months in paradise.’

‘It would have been, except there was this bastard lieutenant who took a dislike to Johnny. One of those mean little thin-moustache types, terrified someone might realise he had a boyfriend back in Brisbane. So to prove what a galloping he-man he was, he made a point of harassing Johnny, needling him, dropping insinuations.’

‘And he’s still alive to tell the tale?’

‘I don’t know how! Our Johnny restrained himself until I thought he’d have a stroke. But it’s done his state of mind no good. He got more and more furious, more set on going back to Timor to get his revenge on the Japs, on someone, on anyone.’ Alan sighed. ‘When this mission came up he insisted on volunteering. I’d have been happy to stay out of it but … couldn’t let him go off by himself. God knows what kind of strife he’d get himself into.’

Next day they had forms and papers to complete at the office. I watched them quietly as they wrote, sunlight slanting golden in through the windows. I was suddenly reminded of one evening on leave, with my parents in the lamplight, Mum knitting, Dad reading the paper; their love and understanding and the peace of the moment.

I smiled to myself, and Alan, looking up, asked me why. I tried to explain but they started laughing.

‘So you’re sitting there, telling two of the meanest, most lethal commandos in the country they remind you of Mum and Dad having a quiet night at home,’ said Alan. ‘Jesus, you live dangerously, fella.’

‘Oh Mike, Mike,’ said Johnny, wiping his eyes. ‘You’re priceless. God, I’m glad we saw you again before, you know …’

‘Yeah.’ There was a silence.

‘Come on,’ said Alan. ‘Got to get these done, then check out what we need from the armoury.’ We looked at each other, suddenly sober.

At sunset we walked over to the jetty where the Fairmile launch was moored, engines quietly rumbling. She was a tough, fast little vessel with twenty crewmen and armaments to spare. Two hard-looking Timorese were waiting to go with them.

Alan said quietly, ‘I was thinking. We’ve got the authenticator to say everything’s all right. But what about something to tell you privately if it’s not? Mike, what word?’

‘“Lugger”,’ Johnny said. ‘That’d make him pay attention.’

‘I’ll pay attention anyway, you drongos. But yeah. If I see “lugger” I’ll raise the roof.’

‘Okay. Well.’ Alan shook my hand. ‘See you then, fella.’

Johnny shook my hand too. ‘Bye, Mike.’

‘Take care of yourselves, lads,’ I said with studied calm.

They jumped aboard. I could hardly breathe. I wanted to call them back and beg them not to go.

The Fairmile’s hawsers were released without ceremony, the engines revved like a racing car and the ship seemed to leap away from the jetty. The last thing I could see was the light on Johnny’s pale hair.

A day after Operation Viper left for Timor I ran into Kanga at the LMS. Even in the steamy tropics he looked perfectly
turned out. He’d just arrived from Melbourne, escorting the last of the SRD files. I took him for a cup of tea in the mess.

‘How are you finding the new commanding officer?’ he asked.

‘Getting busy very quickly,’ I said. ‘A Timor mission’s gone in already.’

‘Who went this time?’

‘Alan and Johnny.’

‘Oh.’ He looked worried.

‘Kanga? What is it?’

He drew his chair closer to me.

‘Broome, when I was packing up in Melbourne I went to collect the Lagarto and Cobra files. I was told in no uncertain terms they weren’t to come here, they had to stay in Melbourne. At the back of a locked cupboard.’

‘Why?’

‘That’s what I wondered. So I had a look.’

‘I thought it was a locked cupboard.’

He smiled gently and said, ‘Broome. Me, right?’ He took a breath. ‘Anyway. It was a lot of reading. And not pleasant either.’

‘Tell me, Kanga.’

‘It’s what we thought. They’re kidding themselves, pretending it’s okay. Ridiculous reports, authenticators screwed. You’d have to be a gullible fool to keep trusting them. But there was more, made my hair stand on end.’

His voice dropped even lower. ‘Some breathtaking fool sent Lagarto a message about something they’d read in a Japanese intercept.’

I looked at him in amazement: that we could decipher
Japanese transmissions was one of the greatest secrets of the war. ‘Oh Jesus. That’d be why heads rolled recently.’

He nodded. ‘But even worse, Broome, they’ve informed Lagarto about other insertions.’ He spread his hands in disbelief. ‘It’s the first rule of guerrilla war: the less an op knows about any other op, the better. But some imbecile told Lagarto where Adder was landing last August.’

‘God, no.’ A shiver ran up my spine. ‘Did you ever get anything back from them at all?’

‘Not a whisper. What’s this latest mission called?’

‘Viper.’

He looked at me in horror. ‘That was the most recent signal. Telling Lagarto about insertion of the Viper party.’

I jumped up and raced outside. We used motorcycles to get quickly between LMS and the Leanyer radio base and, blessedly, one was free. I was there in ten minutes. I dashed in and found the duty officer.

‘Any word from Viper yet?’

‘You’re in a bit of a lather, lad. No, not yet. But you can’t expect anything for a while, they’ve got to find a secure base, set up, transmit. All takes time.’

I sat on a chair in the corner. They’d left yesterday evening. Ten hours to Timor, hopefully ashore before dawn. It was only noon now. They’d have needed time to get away from the shore, find a safe place inland. Yeah. Maybe they saw a patrol, had to hide, move somewhere else. Maybe they had to avoid a swamp, ford a river, climb a mountain. All took time.

I pretended to be busy with a circuit board and they left me alone. I stayed all day and then all night. I found a
storeroom and had a quick snooze; grabbed some coffee at the mess.

The duty officer gave me a curious look but I stayed again during the day. That night he ordered me back to quarters to rest.

I woke up the following morning sick with misery. There was no reason to hang around waiting for word from Viper. It was never going to come.

We’d lost a surprising number of friends. The 4th Independents, now part of the 7th Cavalry (Commando) Regiment, had been deployed to Papua in August 1943. One of the ships carrying them into Lae was bombed and twenty good men I knew died in the wreck. Ashore, another mate was killed by a mortar from our own side. Even when the Japs weren’t shooting at you, fatal accidents still happened: men and equipment and high pressure made a dangerous mix.

But with good friends, close friends, you protected yourself from the realisation of loss, the same way you protected yourself from acknowledging the men you’d killed. Somehow I kept going.

Then five weeks later, long after I’d given up all hope, a message arrived from Viper. They called me in to give me the good news, everyone in the ops room beaming and my own knees weak with relief. The duty officer, grinning, showed me the transcript. It said:

RADIO DAMAGED FIXED NOW STOP MOVING SOUTH EVERYTHING SHIPSHAPE RPT SHIPSHAPE STOP DROP SUPPLIES SOONEST DONT SEND BY LUGGER STOP

‘There’s the authenticator, lad. “Shipshape”. Everything’s all right. What a relief, eh?’

A sick sweat broke out on my forehead. ‘No. No, it’s not all right. We agreed a private authenticator, to tell me if they were in trouble – “lugger” – there it is!’

He looked surprised. ‘No need for private codes, Sergeant. Look. There’s the official authenticator. They need the supplies in a hurry, don’t want to mess around with slow old boats, eh boys?’ he asked as the others clustered around. They nodded.

‘Broome,’ said one, ‘It’s all right. They’re fine. This is the Lugger Maintenance Section, for Christ’s sake.’