 
## RETURN TO RABAUL

Peter Hadley

PUBLISHED BY:

Harry Maxwell Publications at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2017 by Peter Hadley

Second Smashwords Edition, License Notes

### This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CONTENTS

Preface

PART 1 - The Debt

PART 2 – The Earth of Anzac Cove

PART 3 - Victory

PART 4 - Riding the Storm
Epilogue

### Preface

I had been thinking about this epic story for twenty years before I wrote the first draft. Australia's involvement in two world wars inspired me to write the novel. The periods 1914-1918 and 1941-1945 were tumultuous times in our history. Australian soldiers and sailors fought in large-scale battles involving millions of combatants that even today stagger the imagination.

Historical Context

At the outbreak of war in 1914, Australia saw itself as a component member of the British Empire. We were a recent nation - the six separate Australian colonies had agreed to unite and form the Commonwealth of Australia in 1901. When Great Britain declared war on Germany, Australia was also at war with Germany. Australia had a strategic interest in entering the war. In the pre- war years, the Australian colonies were concerned about the arrival of German commercial and military interests in the Pacific in the 1880's and urged Britain to annex New Guinea to prevent Germany establishing a military base in our near north. In 1883, Queensland sent a military force to annex New Guinea in the name of Great Britain but the British government repudiated Queensland's action.

Germany established the colony of New Guinea in 1884 and developed a naval and military base at Rabaul. The German East Asiatic Squadron, under the command of Admiral Max von Spee, guarded Germany's Pacific possessions, which included a naval base in China at Tsingtao, a string of coaling stations for refuelling their ships in the Caroline and Marshall Islands, at Rabaul, and at Apia in Samoa, and several settlements and garrisons scattered across these possessions.

In response to Germany's annexation of New Guinea, Britain established a protectorate over Papua, which lay adjacent to the German colony. In 1902, Britain handed Papua to Australia to administer. Australia became a colonial power but we also wanted to kick the Germans out of New Guinea.

Australia watched with alarm as Germany developed its trade and commerce links in the Pacific and its military base at Rabaul. When war broke out, Britain requested that Australia take urgent action against the threat posed by German military forces in New Guinea. Within two weeks of this request, Australia had hastily thrown together an expeditionary force of a thousand sailors and soldiers to seize Rabaul, and neutralise German military forces and the German wireless station at Bitapaka, south of Rabaul. The General Staff placed Colonel Holmes, a Boer war veteran, in command.

On 11 September 1914, Australian forces landed on the island of New Britain and after a number of skirmishes with German forces, captured the colony and destroyed the wireless station. Australian naval forces hunted for Admiral von Spee but he had escaped. After capturing Rabaul and forcing German military forces to surrender, Australia took control of the colony. New Guinea included the main island of New Guinea, and the islands of New Britain, New Ireland, Manus, Bougainville and Nauru. The Australian government allowed German settlers to remain in their occupations as planters and merchants on condition they swore an oath of neutrality.

After establishing garrisons on the main islands, the Australian military took part in the Gallipoli landings the following year, and in 1916 moved to the Western Front and the Middle East. On the Western Front, Australians fought alongside New Zealanders, Canadians, British, French and Americans until Germany sued for peace in 1918.

At the 1919 Paris Peace Talks, Australia's wartime Prime Minister, William Hughes won control of the Territory of New Guinea. The government expelled the German settlers and sold their plantations to Australian colonists, many of them former soldiers. During the 1920's and 30's thousands of Australian settlers, officials and soldiers travelled to New Guinea.

When Great Britain declared war on Germany in 1939, Australia was also at war. Australian military forces fought alongside the British in North Africa, the Middle East and in the air war against Germany.

Meanwhile, to Australia's far north, Japan had been at war with China since 1931. To win this war, Japan decided to seize the oil and other resources of Southeast Asia. In one of the greatest miscalculations in history, the Japanese launched a surprise attack on the US Pacific Fleet naval base at Pearl Harbour in December 1941 hoping to destroy the US carrier force and prevent the US interfering with its conquest of Southeast Asia and Australia.

The USA, China, Great Britain and Australia declared war on Japan. Australia was virtually defenceless against Japanese attack because most of our military forces were in North Africa and the Middle East fighting German and Italian troops. Japanese forces rapidly advanced through Southeast Asia overwhelming British, American, Dutch and Australian forces in their path. They captured the American Territory of Guam and invaded Hong Kong, the Philippines and Malaya. The Japanese advanced into Malaya driving back British and Australian forces, heading for Singapore. The Dutch East Indies (Indonesia) fell into their hands. New Guinea was rapidly becoming the front line in the battle for Australia.

The New Guinea Volunteer Rifles and the 2 /22nd Infantry Battalion, known collectively as Lark Force, defended New Guinea. In January 1942, the Japanese landed at Rabaul and defeated Australian forces. After interning all Australian and British civilians and most of the surviving military personnel, the Japanese turned Rabaul into a major military base for its push south towards the Solomons and Australia. Japanese aircraft used New Guinea as their base to bomb Darwin and other towns in northern Australia. A month after the fall of Rabaul, Singapore fell to Japanese forces.

A Japanese naval force advanced south from Rabaul with the intention of capturing Port Moresby but a joint American-Australian naval force intercepted it in the Coral Sea. The fierce battle resulted in both sides suffering heavy losses of military personnel, ships and aircraft. However, the Japanese force turned back to Rabaul. They had suffered their first major setback at sea. The Japanese tried to take Port Moresby by land but in a brutal campaign, Australian forces drove them back along the Kokoda track. At the same time, the Americans defeated the Japanese at Guadalcanal in the Solomons.

After their defeat in New Guinea and Guadalcanal, the Japanese lurched from one disaster after another as the Allies pounded them by land, sea and air. The Allies cut off Rabaul by land and sea, forcing the large Japanese garrison to grow their own food and dig tunnels as American bombers turned the base into a pile of rubble.

In one of the worst military disasters in Australian history, several hundred Australian POW's and Australian and British settlers imprisoned in Rabaul perished when an American submarine sank the _Monteverdi Maru_ , which was transporting them to China in June 1942.

In 1944, Australian forces once again landed on the island of New Britain and advanced along the coast trapping Japanese forces in Rabaul. In August 1945, Australian troops marched into Rabaul after the Japanese surrender. The Japanese invasion of Papua and New Guinea had become the graveyard of their armies. They had suffered hundreds of thousands of casualties during their disastrous campaign.

After the war, the UN handed New Guinea back to Australia to administer. Australia merged Papua and New Guinea into one territory.

Characters

My characters, real and fictional, tell my story. Private Francis Milne is my main character. He lands with Australian forces in Rabaul in 1914 where he meets and falls in love with Asami, a Japanese colonist. At the end of the campaign, he returns to Australia sick with malaria. When he recovers, he has a brief romance with Mary Batten, a nurse who serves in Gallipoli. Francis takes part in the Gallipoli campaign and later, he serves as a medical orderly in France before re-joining the infantry and fighting in the final bloody battles on the Western Front. Mary also serves in Europe where German troops capture her but she escapes. After the war, Francis settles in New Guinea as a plantation owner and marries Asami. After her death, he and Mary later marry.

Cliff Lawson is my other key character. He is a good contrast to Francis – a larrikin who dwells just inside the law. His female companion, Freda Scholl, a German brothel/bar owner living in Rabaul, later an internee in Australia, escapes the internment camp with Lawson's help. After the war, he and Freda move to New Guinea and go into business with Francis.

During World War 2, Milne and Lawson join the New Guinea Volunteer Rifles. After the Japanese capture Rabaul, they take to the hills and become coast watchers.

Of the non-fictional characters, Major General William Holmes appears in the first three parts of the story. He led the New Guinea campaign, fought in Gallipoli, and went on to France where he was killed in action in 1917. William Hughes, Australia's charismatic leader during the war years appears several times in the first three parts of the story as he leads Australia to victory in World War 1.

Acknowledgements

The main historical sources for the novel were _The Australians at Rabaul_ by S.S Mackenzie, _The Great War_ by Les Carlyon, _Darkest Hour_ by Bruce Gamble and the official Australian war histories available online at the Australian War Memorial. The Memorial collection holds a wealth of records, memoirs and first-hand accounts of the operations in which Australians were involved.

Editions

I published the first edition of _Return to Rabaul_ as a paperback in 2010 and provided a copy to the Australian National Library. The edition covered the story in World War 1. In 2012, I published a revised e-book edition of the novel on Smashwords. In 2017, I published the current second e-book edition. This edition includes the final part of my tetralogy ( _Riding the Storm_ ), which is set in World War 2 in New Guinea.

This novel is my legacy. I hope readers will be inspired by the story and enhance their understanding of our unique country and people.

Peter Hadley,

Canberra, 2017

THE DEBT

### Chapter 1

For several months, Francis Milne had watched with grim fascination as the world slid towards war. By early August 1914, the slow-motion slide had become a mad gallop as one country after another declared war. When he left work one afternoon, the newspaper boy was shouting, "Australia is at war with Germany!"

He bought a copy and caught the tram home. The passengers were talking excitedly about the war. By the time he reached his stop, the news had sent a wave of excitement through Sydney and all of Australia. Crowds surged into the streets singing 'Rule Britannia' and 'Waltzing Matilda.' He impatiently pressed through the crowds. He did not go in for singing and shouting.

Arriving home, he hurried into the lounge room and told his parents that he was volunteering for the army. His father was bitterly opposed to his only son choosing to go to war. "This is a European war," he said, "let them fight their own wars I say. Germany is not a threat to Australia. I shall not give my permission."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions. I will enlist whether you agree or not."

His uncle and aunty, who lived a few doors up, dropped in and joined in the discussion. His uncle said it was the right thing to do, adding that if he was younger and did not have a bad back, he would enlist. "Those damn Germans have been asking for it. We have to stand up to 'em." His aunty was against him joining up because at eighteen she thought he was too young to go to war. "When you turn twenty, then you should go."

His mother had the final word – she thought it was the right thing to do. His father maintained his opposition, but the determined combination of Francis, his mother and his uncle won out in the end. His father gave in grudgingly, agreeing to sign his enlistment papers. He went to work muttering, "No good will come of it."

A week later, he walked to Victoria Barracks to enlist. As he turned into Oxford Street, a voice behind him asked if he was "going my way, mate." Milne turned and eyed the stranger suspiciously.

"Are you going to enlist?" asked the stranger.

"Yeah, and you?"

"Yeah, we could walk together."

He introduced himself as Cliff Lawson. He had an open friendly face, with a ruddy, freckled complexion topped by a tangle of untidy blond hair.

They were a contrasting pair walking side by side through the streets of Sydney that winter morning. Lawson was tall and gangly, and walked with his head held high and chest out; Milne was short with dark features. He walked with head bowed absorbed in his own world. Milne was a reserved, serious individual from a tight-knit Irish-Australian Catholic family. Lawson had no family. Milne knew little about the outside world. Lawson had spent the last six years sailing the Pacific as a merchant seaman, and had experienced life on the edge.

"Which expeditionary force are you volunteering for?" asked Lawson.

"There's more than one?"

Lawson handed him a newspaper cutting. He had circled a small article with a pencil. The article read, _For Active Service. A New Force. Naval and Military_. "They're recruiting a separate force to capture German New Guinea. This is what I'm volunteering for. I have a very good reason why I want to go back to Rabaul."

Milne had read newspaper articles about Germany's Pacific Empire. He had cut out a map of the German colony of New Guinea and glued it on his bedroom wall. The map showed that Germany had claimed a vast area of the Pacific – marked by an ominous black line sweeping down to northern Australia. He'd also cut out an article which implied that Germany's naval and military base at Rabaul was a threat to Australia. He imagined the Rabaul warehouses bulging with armaments, and crack Prussian troops waiting for the order to invade Australia. As a boy, he had read every book he could get about New Guinea and the South Seas.

There were several hundred volunteers for the New Guinea expedition lined up when they arrived at the barracks.

A recruiting officer shouted over the noise, "Right youse lot form orderly lines if that's possible. Now when I call you, step forward and give me your name and occupation."

After waiting patiently for an hour, he stepped forward. "Francis Milne, bank clerk. Can we move this along mate, the war will be over if we don't speed it up. I want to do my bit."

"In a hurry are we? You look like you can fire a rifle and march. Go over there for your medical. Next!"

"Clifford Lawson, merchant seaman, ladies' man, and adventurer. And I'm not in a hurry. Take as much time as you like, Sarge."

The recruiting officer smiled amicably. "Good, we need a comedian in the ranks; if you want adventure you've come to the right place my lad. Run along over there for your medical...there's a good chap. Next!"

They passed their medical examinations.

"A few hours ago," said Milne, "I was a civilian. Now I'm in the army - when do we go off to the war?"

"Jeez mate, you seem to be in a hurry to see action," said Lawson, shaking his head. "The army's giving us the night off, but we have to report back tomorrow morning. That's a lot of beer drinking time between now and then."

"I'm not much of a drinker," replied Milne. "But I don't want to go home right now. My father is not happy about me enlisting. What about you, don't you have a home to go to?"

"No, not in Sydney anyway, I'm on me own. I've been living in a boarding house in Darlo. I ain't paid rent for a while so I won't be welcomed back. The landlord has threatened to throw me on the street."

"You can stay with me, my father won't go on and on if we have a guest."

"Righto, let's drink to mateship, the army, women and good times. I know some good pubs in the area, and since we've enlisted everyone will want to shout us a beer."

In each pub they entered, Lawson announced that he and his mate had enlisted and would be shipping out within weeks 'to give the Germans a damn good thrashing.' This announcement resulted in slaps on the back from the patrons, and a beer each, sometimes several. Lawson gulped his down as if it was the last chance he would have for a beer. Milne sipped his without enthusiasm.

He asked Milne why he joined up.

"I didn't really think about it much, I guess adventure and wanting to do my bit. I read in the newspapers that the Germans are doing some bad things against civilians in Belgium, and it isn't right in my book. I reckon Blighty has taken on a lot standing up to Germany and she needs all the help she can get. If Britain falls, so will Australia. Here we are sitting on the edge of Asia. Germany's on our doorstep breathing down our necks. How long would we survive without the British navy?"

The few drinks became a few more drinks. Lawson had a way of winning instant friends. He was the centre of attention as he told his listeners about tales of fighting pirates in the Malacca Straits, a run in with the police in Hong Kong, and a brawl with American sailors in Singapore. Milne laughed along with everyone else. The beer had gone to his head. He smiled at Lawson's antics and decided that there would never be a dull moment when he was around.

"You said before you had a reason for wanting to go back to Rabaul – what is your reason?"

Lawson looked at his eager audience. "Because of a woman."

"A woman?"

"The lovely, the incomparable...the Freda Scholl."

Milne frowned. "That name sounds German."

"I was on a tramp steamer that stopped in Rabaul last year, and a couple of us sailors went ashore and hit the bars and clubs. One place I remember above all is a club called the Black Cat in the backstreets of Rabaul, owned by Freda. What a woman - blond, Teutonic, statuesque, you would call her. When I looked into her blue eyes, it was like looking into the Pacific. She don't take any nonsense from no one. Why I seen her pick up big blokes by the scruff of the neck with one hand and throw 'em out the door if they misbehaved."

"Sounds like you're in love," quipped Milne. "Are you going to ask her to marry you when we get to Rabaul?"

Lawson looked at him in astonishment. "Unlikely mate. So, she offers me a job at the Black Cat as a barman and handyman, so to speak. How could I refuse? Next day, I jumped ship and worked for her. But see, she wasn't making enough money to pay me in money, so she paid me in other ways, if you get my meaning."

Milne, in his innocence, didn't get his meaning.

"Yeah, so at the end of the week she would call me to her room, and she'd be lying on her big four poster bed with silk covers and say it was time I collected me pay – so I did. Things was going all right until I got into a bit of trouble and the coppers ran me out of town. Anyways, a Japanese girl called Asami works at the Black Cat. She would melt your heart. Silky black hair, deep brown eyes, and her skin is so white she has to take an umbrella with her when she goes out in the tropical sun so she don't get burnt. She plays a shamisen and sings songs for customers."

"A shamiwhat?" asked Milne, perplexed. "What is that?"

"It's a bloody Japanese musical instrument like a banjo excepting it's got a long neck. But singing songs isn't all she does."

Milne leaned forward expectantly. Lawson kept him waiting.

"Well, what else does she do?"

"Apparently, she was sold by her father to pay off his gambling debts to a gangster called Wang. Her father took to opium and fell into debt. To win the money back he gambled, and fell even further behind. Wang offered to hire Asami to work as his servant to pay back the debt. Not long after, her father died, leaving her alone in Rabaul at the mercy of this Wang bloke. She has to do favours for customers to pay back the debt."

The story intrigued Milne. In the haze of the smoky pub, he imagined a beautiful girl sitting by the window of a little seaside cottage sadly looking out to sea, playing her shamisen, dreaming that her saviour would rescue her one day.

It was late by the time the two friends staggered home. On the way, Lawson insisted they stop by his old boarding house, 'to pay me respects to that greedy landlord.' Milne thought that was a bad idea and tried to talk him out of it. Lawson ignored him and stood on the pavement outside the boarding house hollering. When the landlord stuck his head out the window, Lawson told him what he thought of him. A shouting match followed until a policeman appeared and blew his whistle. They took off down the street with the law in hot pursuit. They gave the law the slip and reeled into his house where his family had been anxiously awaiting his return. His father, a teetotaller, was horrified to find his son in a drunken state.

"If this is what the army does to a man, it will all end in ruin; you mark my words," he said. "You've never been drunk in your life, and look at you."

"This is my mate, Cliff Lawson; we joined up together and celebrated. Tomorrow, we get a uniform and a rifle, a bit of training and then we're off to war."

"Son, I'm proud of you," said his mother. "Cliff, any friend of my son is a friend of ours. You're welcome to stay the night if you wish."

The next morning, he staggered downstairs with a sore head to find Lawson unaffected by the night out, tucking into eggs, bacon and sausage. He was chatting to Mrs. Milne as if they were old friends.

It was time to go. His mother and aunty wept and hugged him. His father stood uncomfortably on the other side of the room. "Well, take care son," is all he could manage to say before falling silent.

His mother told him to look after himself and to stick with Cliff because he looked like he knew how to survive.

They set out for the barracks through the early dawn streets. "You have nice parents," said Lawson. "I never really knew mine. Me old man buggered off after I was born, and I went to sea at fourteen and never saw much of Mum."

They arrived at Victoria Barracks to begin their life in the army.

While the army was fitting Private Milne and Private Lawson for uniforms, William Holmes, citizen-soldier and secretary of the Metropolitan Board of Water Supply and Sewerage was making his way to Victoria Barracks. That morning, Colonel Legge, Chief of the General Staff, had asked him to lead a military and naval expedition to capture New Guinea. Holmes accepted immediately.

He was a short, dapper man, well groomed and well tailored. He had a neat curled moustache, which he fussed over to get it just right. He smiled to himself as he thought about what lay ahead. At the age of fifty-two, the moment had come to put all his experience and training to use for his country and empire. He was born for this moment. He walked through the streets with a spring in his step. He was born and raised in Victoria Barracks, and had been a soldier since he was ten. He had risen through the ranks, and had fought in the Boer War. Soldiering was in his blood. The Boer War was a defining moment for him - there was no front line, no rear. The farmer working in the field peacefully might shoot you in the back as you walked by.

In the street, an excited crowd had gathered. "We'd better join up as fast as we can, the war will be over before we get there!" shouted one man.

"My eldest boy has already joined the colours!" said a woman, "I don't know whether to cry or shout for joy."

"Rejoice madam for your son is doing his duty," declared Holmes, as he walked by.

"It's all right for some that are too old to go," the woman muttered, when he was out of earshot.

Arriving at Victoria Barracks, the guards recognised him, saluted, and waved him through. Standing behind the queues of jostling recruits waiting for their uniforms, he was pleased to see there would be no shortage of volunteers.

Milne and Lawson, who were standing with their backs to him, became aware of his presence.

"Have you noticed that old bloke in civilian clobber over there watching us, he looks like an officer," said Lawson, pointing at Holmes.

Holmes noticed them looking at him and strolled over. "Morning lads, you're coming on the expedition?"

Lawson nodded and made a half-hearted attempt at saluting. "Gidday mate, um sir, are you off on this expedition?"

"Yes, I'll be going."

"Are you an officer or something?" asked Lawson.

"Yes, I'm sure we'll get to know each other well, you chaps look like you can handle yourselves in a fight."

"Neither of us has any soldiering experience, but we're game, and no mistake," said Lawson, puffing out his chest.

Holmes continued his inspection promising that they would all meet again soon.

"He seems a nice enough bloke," said Lawson. "I can't stand officers or bosses what think themselves better than everyone below 'em. Someone behaves like that - I go along with them...but wait for the right moment to bring 'em down. We're all humans sure enough; just because you're born rich or you get a good education don't mean you're better than another."

"Come on you lot," shouted the recruiting officer, "let's have youse in the barracks. It's nearly time for lunch, and then a bit of training, then rest time, then tea, and after that we put you to bed. Very soon, you're all going on a little adventure, care of the military. You're in for a swell time."

They joined the other recruits to begin their initiation into the army. They found a bunk each in one of the barracks, and stowed their gear.

"This is all right," said Milne, sitting on his bed. "I can imagine being on a battlefield, guns blazing, bayonets flashing, and bugles sounding the charge. The recruiting officer said we would be embarking in a week. They don't intend to give us much training. But it suits me, the sooner the better."

"I heard some of the others talking and they reckon we're off to Blighty to reinforce the British army," said a soldier lying in the bunk next to Lawson.

Lawson shook his head. "We're going to New Guinea to kick the Germans out."

"Where's New Guinea?" asked a soldier.

"It's in Africa ain't it?" said another soldier.

"Bloody hell, you lot don't know nothing," said Lawson, "New Guinea's just north of Australia. It's a bloody German colony."

"No matter where we go, we are embarking on a long journey," said Milne, "and I hope we all come home again."

Less than two weeks after recruitment began for the New Guinea expedition, Milne and Lawson marched proudly with the other recruits through the streets of Sydney for embarkation. Huge crowds turned out to cheer and wish them well. They squeezed aboard the HMAS _Berrima_ , a cruise liner requisitioned by the Australian government. If conditions aboard were crowded and stifling, any negatives were swept away by the general enthusiasm. The spirit of adventure ran like an electric current through the troops. The mostly young recruits were full of vigour and patriotism. As the ship pulled out from the wharf, they let out a mighty shout and waved their hats for their loved ones.

The ship sailed through Sydney Heads and turned north along the coast.

Colonel Holmes and Captain Travers, his intelligence officer and son-in-law, stood side by side gazing out to sea. Holmes stood with his hands behind his back watching the sun slowly go down over Australia. Lieutenant-Colonel Watson, Holmes' second in command and a veteran of the Boer War joined them.

"You know, I wish my dear wife were alive to have seen the troops marching through the streets of Sydney with the crowds cheering and waving their hats and handkerchiefs. She loved a parade." He stood silently for a few moments lost in thought. "Let's go in, it's time to brief the officers."

The officers gathered quickly, eager to hear where they were going. Holmes stepped to the front of the briefing room and cleared his throat. There was total silence as the officers strained to hear over the noise of the _Berrima's_ engines. "Gentlemen, our orders are to seize and occupy German New Guinea and neutralise the wireless station which the Germans are using to relay intelligence to Berlin. The German military forces in the area pose a danger to our supply lines. We will capture Rabaul on the island of New Britain, the capital of New Guinea first, and then capture other main centres as time and resources permit."

Many officers nodded approvingly. One officer said, "I knew it!"

Holmes said the main danger to the expedition were German naval forces known to be patrolling the area. The German East Asiatic Squadron, under the command of Admiral Max Graf von Spee, comprised seven cruisers. The Germans had a naval base in China at Tsingtao, which was fortified and garrisoned with more than three thousand German and Austrian troops. The German navy had a string of coaling stations for refuelling their ships located in the Caroline and Marshall islands, at Rabaul, and at Apia in Samoa. He added that Admiral Patey, commanding the Australian navy, was hunting for von Spee. Australian naval forces, which included the formidable HMAS _Australia_ and HMAS _Sydney,_ outgunned the German naval force. His main concern was that Spee might avoid a pitched battle knowing he was outgunned and remain at large to intercept Australian shipping and disrupt military operations.

"Sir, it might be worthwhile letting the men know that our navy is more than a match for the Germans," said an officer.

"Yes, but we mustn't drop our guard," countered Holmes. "The Germans will try to break through our naval cover and attack the _Berrima_ in the open sea. If the _Berrima_ goes down, that's the end of the expedition, and us. When we get nearer to New Guinea, our navy will race ahead to secure Rabaul against enemy attack from the sea. I hope that we will catch the German fleet in Simpson Harbour. Once we have secured the harbour, the navy will be landing naval units to destroy the wireless station and engage the enemy land forces. We will deliver an ultimatum to the German governor informing him that we will occupy Rabaul and all of New Guinea."

Holmes swept his hand across the map of the vast Pacific and pointed to the area around Rabaul. "In terms of what we face on the ground in New Guinea, the main German garrison is here at Herbertshohe, or Kokopo to give it its native name, south of Rabaul. There are smaller garrisons scattered through the outer islands. We are not sure of the exact numbers of enemy troops we face. The Germans have trained several hundred natives as soldiers, and they will call up German colonists as reservists. We expect they will move reinforcements around the Pacific to meet any threat. When the Germans surrender, we will administer and garrison New Guinea. To do this effectively, we must control the sea between the far-flung islands of New Guinea. We must avoid sinking German ships and boats – we will need these to administer and protect our conquests. The Australian navy will be busy chasing von Spee around the Pacific and defending our supply lines."

While the officers planned the attack, below decks, the soldiers talked, slept, wrote letters and played cards. Although they had parade every morning, followed by drill and target practice on the upper deck, at night they were free to do as they pleased. Seasickness took its toll. Milne was one of the first to succumb. The _Berrima_ rolled up and down on the waves. He turned pale and then green. He lay on the deck in the fresh air and slowly recovered. He returned below decks on rubbery legs.

"Got your sea legs yet, Francis?" asked Lawson.

He walked unsteadily to a porthole and looked out. "Does anyone know where we are?"

"Yeah, we're on a cruise liner going on a tropical cruise," joked a young soldier with a high-pitched voice.

"One of the sailors told me we're about to drop anchor in Moreton Bay," said another.

The _Berrima_ remained in Moreton Bay for a few hours where they met up with HMAS _Sydney_ to escort them to New Guinea. The _Berrima_ continued along the Queensland coast until they anchored off Palm Island.

By now, they had an idea where they were going but were unsure of what they faced. A large group of soldiers gathered to speculate on what awaited them. One of the Boer War veterans held court in the centre of the lower deck. "Well lads, we're heading for New Guinea all right. Our job is to kick the Germans out. Then we sit out the rest of the war on garrison duty in Rabaul."

This caused a good deal of discussion about what Rabaul was like. "I heard Rabaul is a bloody dump, the arsehole of the Pacific," volunteered one of the listeners.

"Shows how much you lot know," said Lawson. "I lived in Rabaul for a couple of months last year. It's a nice little town - a bit like an Australian country town. I was on a tramp steamer that stopped in Rabaul. A couple of us sailors went into town. There are Chinese and Japanese living there, alongside the natives known as Tolai, and the Germans. There are a couple of good bars in the town, not to mention the brothels, tea houses, gambling joints and opium dens in Chinatown."

"I never heard of any brothels in Rabaul," replied the veteran, a little unsure of his ground.

Lawson laughed and said with great authority, "It's like this, wherever there are soldiers, there are brothels. They need to do something in their spare time."

The soldiers who up to that stage had been imagining fighting German troops against a backdrop of tropical jungle and swaying coconut palms, now had a new vision – after a hard days fighting, spending the night in the sordid bars of Rabaul, followed by a visit to the brothels.

"Anyway, all this is a waste of time. We have to get through the German fleet yet," a pale young soldier called out.

"If we get through the German fleet, you mean," said the veteran, "one shell from a German ship will sink this little boat. This isn't even a military vessel; it's a bloody old cruise liner. A shell would go through the hull like butter."

"I can't swim what should I do if a shell hits us?" asked the young soldier.

"Don't worry about it mate," said Lawson. "This boat will go down so fast; we'll all go to the bottom, whether you can swim or not."

Milne patted the young man on the arm. "Don't listen to them mate, we'll be right."

"What about the German troops, how many will we be facing?" asked a soldier, changing the subject.

"Thousands," said the veteran. "Why the Kaiser himself has said that his troops are to fight to the end rather than surrender his Pacific colonies. The Germans have trained the local natives as troops. Let me tell you, I hear they're fierce fighters. Some of them," he lowered his voice, "are cannibals and eat enemies they kill in battle."

The audience all turned to Lawson for confirmation. "There are cannibals in New Guinea, right enough – but not in Rabaul. So don't go wandering alone in the jungle or you'll end up barbequed."

"Everyone on deck," shouted a sergeant abruptly, ending their speculations, "we've stopped for some training. Come on you layabouts lets have youse."

When they arrived on the upper deck, they saw a string of small islands in the distance. An officer told them they were going ashore every day for training and exercise while they waited for a supply ship to bring stores.

The following morning, boatloads of troops rowed ashore where they stormed over the mud flats to practice skirmishing, flanking and bayonet charges.

While waiting at Palm Island for the supply ship, a group of officers from the HMAS _Encounter_ came aboard to meet with Holmes and his officers. For the first time, Holmes learnt that Japan had entered the war on the side of the Allies and declared war on Germany. In his mind, this added more urgency to his task. While Japan would focus on seizing German possessions in China, he was aware that the Australian government was deeply suspicious about Japan's motives for entering the war. He wondered if Japan had designs on New Guinea.

On a lighter note, a naval officer reported on the first encounter with the German population in Rabaul. He told how a party of sailors had landed at Rabaul wharf armed with sledgehammers, axes and hammers with the intention of smashing up the post office telephone system. This was to prevent the Germans reporting to von Spee on Australian military movements. German soldiers did not challenge them. The sailors marched into the post office watched by startled German civilians lined up to post letters.

"And you say the Germans didn't challenge them?" asked Holmes.

"It would have been unwise, given there were several Australian vessels circling just off Rabaul," responded the officer.

"Seems the Germans won't put up a fight," said Watson ruefully.

"I wouldn't be too sure," said Holmes. "Our intelligence suggests the Germans will not contest landings by our soldiers and sailors if they appear to be temporary. It will be a different matter when we land in force with the intention of occupying their colony."

"Pardon me sir, the supply ship has been sighted," said Travers.

The stores were quickly loaded and the expedition continued its journey. Escorted by _Sydney_ and _Encounter_ , they set off for their next stop – Port Moresby, capital of the Australian Territory of Papua. As they steamed north, they moved further from the coast.

Late in the afternoon, they saw Cairns in the far distance. Early the following morning, they caught the last glimpse of the Australian mainland. The expedition steamed into the Coral Sea. There were a number of false alarms during the morning when dark shapes in the distance turned out to be harmless steamers or fishing vessels.

In Port Moresby, the expedition caused a stir - the residents had never seen such a large naval force. Their stay in Port Moresby was brief. The Australian convoy swung round in the harbour, heading for Rabaul.

Milne and Lawson stood on deck contemplating what lay ahead. They knew that the action that they longed for was near.

"You'll be right, just stick with me," said Lawson. "We'll get through this."

Milne nodded and looked hopefully out to sea.

### Chapter 2

News of the approach of the Australian expedition caused great excitement and anxiety in German New Guinea. In Rabaul, residents, officials and soldiers gathered in houses, clubs and the streets to discuss the latest news and rumours. Some predicted a quick German victory and the return to the status quo.

At the post office, a group of women gathered to discuss events. "Can I help you ladies?" asked the clerk.

"We were talking about the latest news," said one woman. "What will become of us if the Australians invade?"

"Now ladies, this is very unlikely. The German navy will prevent the Australians landing, if they dare try it. You have nothing to fear. Australia is a backward, undeveloped country - its people know nothing of culture or the higher things of life."

"I have heard these Australians are rough bushmen," said a haughty woman. "They live alone in the bush, starved of female company. I fear what will happen when these brutes land here. No decent woman will be safe from their wanton clutches. Who will protect my honour from these uncivilised rough men?"

"I'm sure you'll be safe," he said reassuringly.

Freda Scholl walked in and joined the group of women.

"Good morning Frau Scholl, how are you today?" he asked.

The other women looked uncomfortable when Freda joined them. One by one, they made their excuses and left.

"Popular aren't I," she quipped, when they had gone.

"Don't you pay any attention to them Frau Scholl, they are jealous about your high standing with the governor."

Freda handed over a letter for posting to her mother in Hamburg. He explained the difficulties the postal service was facing because of the war.

"I'm sure you'll do your best."

"Perhaps I could drop into the Black Cat tonight, Frau Scholl," he said in a low voice.

"You are most welcome. Asami asked after you the other day."

At the mention of Asami's name, his face reddened, and he looked furtively about. "I will come tonight."

As Freda walked home, she reflected on how she had ended up in this isolated outpost of the German Empire. Her adventure began when she married Hans Scholl in Hamburg two years before. It was a whirlwind romance. He was a dreamer and adventurer and had recently bought a plantation in New Guinea. He was making a last visit to Germany before returning to live in the colony permanently. He regaled her with stories about the idyllic life German settlers lived in the tropics. She imagined life in a tropical paradise in a big house with servants and a year round sunny climate.

Two months after their first meeting, they were married and planning to start a new life. Her father bit his tongue and gave her his blessing. Her mother cried – in happiness that her daughter was getting married, and because she might never see her again.

After an epic voyage, Freda and Hans arrived in Rabaul. She did not like her new country at first. She imagined she had stepped back in time to the Stone Age. The heat and humidity, the strange exotic smells, and the smell of decay were overwhelming. Everything was so different compared to her Germany. Hans, who detected her disappointment, told her that once she settled in she would love her new life.

At the wharf, a delegation of women met them and told her about life in Rabaul. They insisted on enrolling her in the tennis club, and inviting her to a number of afternoon teas and dinners to help her settle in.

From Rabaul, they travelled on a dusty rutted track to the plantation. The plantation house was in a bad condition. She had spent her first week trying to make the house habitable. She fought the heat, spiders, snakes and giant ants to turn the house into something liveable.

Hans proved to be an inept plantation owner. The price of copra fell and he went broke. They sold the plantation for what they could get and invested in a small club in Rabaul. Freda called the club the Black Cat after a stray cat she had adopted. She and Hans set up house in the back of the club. He managed the club and Freda, who had worked as a barmaid, ran the bar. The club became popular with the German colonists. However, soon after they started the business, he contracted malaria and turned to drink. Freda ran the club alone. He died six months later, leaving her heavily in debt. She closed the club because she could not afford to buy new stock.

Another person might have gone to pieces but Freda Scholl was made of sterner stuff. One good friend she had made in the colony was Dr. Eduard Haber, a senior German official and later acting governor.

When her husband died, Dr. Haber took her under his wing, employing her as his housekeeper. She became his companion, and they conducted a discrete friendship. This enabled her to get back on her feet. She invested what little capital she could beg or borrow in refurnishing the club and buying new stock imported from Germany. When she reopened the club six months later, her old patrons came back. The club became a popular place where German officials, soldiers and traders could relax. The Black Cat even attracted American, Australian and British sailors passing through the town. Her little club prospered.

In time, she was able to make a modest living. However, times were hard. She needed to earn more money to survive. One evening, an official recently arrived from Germany offered to pay to have sex with her. He told her he was lonely since his wife died. At first, the very thought of selling her body to a man to indulge his pleasure was shocking. She chased the idea out of her head and turned him down. A few nights later, he had returned and offered her more money. This time she agreed and joined the 'oldest profession in the world.' He was happy, paid up, and they agreed on a weekly arrangement. She discovered that it was a way to make quick money. The men crowded into the club hoping that she would invite one of them to spend the night with her. She took on more customers, and invested the money from this profitable sideline in the Black Cat.

The female settlers avoided her. Invitations to afternoon teas and dinners dried up. Freda didn't care. She considered them the worst bunch of snobs, gossips and old hags she had ever had the misfortune to live amongst. They treated their New Guinean servants like slaves, and spent most of the day stabbing each other in the back, and complaining about their useless husbands.

Behind her back, they called her a 'fallen woman' and wondered why the police hadn't run her out of town. "Well, we all know why that is," said a sharp-faced planter's wife. "She and the governor are on very good terms." This set off a wave of gossip about what went on at the Black Cat. The truth was that some of them suspected that their husbands had visited her club and availed themselves of Freda's services.

Freda smiled to herself as she made her way down the main street of Chinatown. Chinese shopkeepers called out to her as she walked by. She waved back and wished them good morning. When she arrived at the Black Cat, Asami met her at the door, anxious to know what was happening in the outside world.

"Germany is at war with the British Empire, France, Japan and Russia," explained Freda. "There are rumours that an Australian military force is on the way to capture Rabaul."

"What will this mean?" asked Asami. "Will all Japanese be arrested and interned?"

"I will ask Dr. Haber when he returns. He's inspecting the outer islands of the colony and is expected back very soon."

Asami smiled. "I'm sure all will be well." She looked up to Freda as she would her mother. Like Freda, she had come to Rabaul with great hopes. An agent had recruited her father in Yokohama in Japan to work for Isokichi Komine, a Japanese businessman who owned a shipbuilding business in Rabaul. A large Japanese community had grown around the shipyard, and Asami and her father settled into a little wooden house.

She was no stranger to adventure. Both her parents had belonged to a troupe of wandering musicians playing at inns and teahouses in rural Japan. She grew up on the road, sometimes sleeping in inns, but more often sleeping rough. The great joy of her life was to play her shamisen. Her mother had taught her how to play the instrument. Asami loved to sing and entertain people. She became part of the travelling show. Her mother died while Asami was still in her early teens.

The Japanese settlers had established a teahouse in the backstreets of Rabaul as the centre of social activity. One day, the teahouse owner had asked Asami to play and sing. She sat on a small stage in her neat white kimono, hunched over her instrument, gently plucking at the strings. The sight and sound of the beautiful seventeen-year-old playing her shamisen and singing was a big hit with the Japanese merchants and planters. She was the very image of virtue and chastity. When men spoke to her, she lowered her eyes and hid her face behind her fan. The men crowded into the teahouse, waiting for the moment when Asami sang, eager to see her pretty face lit by the flickering candles. In a colony starved of females, she was the envy of every lonely man's eye.

Asami became a regular performer at the teahouse and she earned money for her performances. Her family needed the money because things had not gone well for her father. He had succumbed to the lure of the Chinatown gambling dens. He had fallen into debt, and borrowed money from Wang, a gangster who owned the gambling den, an opium den and two brothels. However, he caught malaria and took opium to relieve his sickness. He borrowed more money to fuel his opium addiction. His debts piled up. Wang demanded that he repay his debt or face the consequences. He told Wang that he had no money, and no means of earning more income due to his illness. Wang offered him a way out. He commented on the beauty of Asami, and offered to employ her as a servant in one of his brothels in return for reducing his debts.

After agonising over what to do, her father, befuddled with malaria and opium, 'sold' her to Wang. He could not look her in the eye. When at last he confessed what he had done, she did not know what this meant. She thought at worst she would have to work as a servant for little or no pay. As long as she could still play her shamisen, she would be happy.

One day, Wang came for her and took her to the brothel. The brothel madam told her to help the other girls prepare for the customers. Asami was shocked at what she saw. Young women were required to take on up to twenty customers a day. She did not like the way the customers ogled her and made suggestions. After she had worked there a week, the madam gave her a beautiful kimono to wear and told her to entertain male visitors. She played her shamisen and sang as the patrons arrived. Wang expected more from her – much more. Asami was defiant. Wang demanded that she comply.

"Your father sold you to me to do as I please. All my customers love you and cannot wait to take you."

Asami wanted to run away, hide, and hope no one ever found her. She begged Wang not to use her as a common whore. She cherished her virtue and chastity. Wang laughed and said she had no choice. That night, Wang locked her in a tiny room in the brothel and told her to prepare herself.

She had removed her beautiful kimono and placed it carefully on the chair. There was a knock at the door, she opened it and one of Wang's business associates barged into the room. He handed over his money and ravished her, and she pretended to enjoy it. For good measure, he had sex with her again and then called out to his friend. His friend reeled in, reeking of alcohol, handed over his money and covered her body with sloppy unwelcome kisses before having sex with her.

Her father had died not long after, and Asami was alone with no money to return to Japan. She became the star attraction of the brothel but she hated what she had to do to earn a living. She lost her innocence and became hardened to the life of a sex slave. Stranded in Rabaul, she was at the mercy of Wang.

Her life might have continued in this way, but for a chance meeting with Freda. Freda asked her to play her shamisen at the Black Cat. Asami was a welcome addition at the club and Freda's customers loved her. Freda offered her a job as an entertainer and hostess. Asami said yes, but she explained that Wang owned her, and would not allow her to work for anyone else. When she told Freda about the conditions she was working under, Freda marched off to see Wang. Freda had a reputation as someone not to be trifled with, and her friendship with Dr. Haber increased her status. Wang agreed that Asami could work for Freda on condition that she continued to pay her father's debt.

Freda and Asami became great friends. Asami moved into a room at the back of the club. The little business prospered. Asami's beauty, charm and elegance were a huge drawcard. A young Chinese woman, Mei, came to work for Freda and moved in with them.

Then the war came and the Australians were on the way to capture Rabaul.

After his tour of the islands, Governor Haber returned to Rabaul. He had to dodge Australian and British warships, which were patrolling the area. He hurried from the jetty to his office in Government House in Namanula, overlooking Rabaul. When he arrived, a large crowd of civilians and soldiers were in the foyer clamouring to see him. He pushed through the throng, followed by Gustav Weber, his policy and legal advisor, and slammed his office door shut.

"Thank God you have returned safely," said Weber, "an Australian expedition is heading for Rabaul."

"I came as fast as I could."

"Excellency, the situation is very chaotic. British and Australian warships sailed into Simpson Harbour, and left again. A few days ago, a party of raiders landed, and smashed up the telephone system at the post office. The raiders warned us not to transmit messages to von Spee's fleet or we risk bombardment."

Dr. Haber sank into his chair and rubbed his head. He was a career bureaucrat, rather than a military man, and had taken the job as acting governor to advance his career. The image he projected – a small, neat figure wearing gold-rimmed glasses – was that of a thinker not a warrior. One of his greatest joys was to give talks on German culture and history to the Rabaul social club. One piece of news that greatly worried him was that Japan had declared war on Germany. He believed the Japanese posed the greater threat to Germany's Pacific colonies. The Japanese navy alone outgunned von Spee's Squadron. He feared the colony would be caught between Australian and Japanese naval forces.

"Sir, due to the current...circumstances...," stammered Weber nervously, "Captain von Klewitz thought it best to move the capital inland to Toma. Many officials have already moved, and have taken the files and official papers with them..."

"What, the capital has been moved without my authority! Who does Klewitz think he is? I am the acting governor and the Commander-in-Chief. That puffed up Prussian peacock!"

"Excellency, I believe moving the capital inland is a good strategy."

"What? Abandon Rabaul! What will our soldiers and civilians think of me? The natives could stage an uprising because they will think we are scared of the enemy. We will lose our authority. Order all officials to return to Rabaul immediately. We will never retreat!"

"Not retreat sir, a strategic relocation of our administration until such time as our brave military defeats the enemy land forces. Then you will march back heroically to Rabaul to cheering crowds. If you remain in Rabaul, you risk capture by the enemy, which will result in our defeat. As long as you are free, we will rule New Guinea."

Haber sat back and considered this for a few moments. "How are preparations going for the defence of our colony?"

"All German army reservists residing in Rabaul have reported for duty, and von Klewitz has ordered extra drilling and training for all military forces. Excellency, there are a number of urgent messages for you. I think you should read them." He handed them to him.

Haber read the messages. "The German High Command has ordered me to hold New Guinea at all costs. Von Spee's East Asiatic Squadron must dominate the Pacific and to do this our land forces must protect our naval bases, refuelling depots and wireless stations in China and the Pacific. However, no further military resources will be provided until the war in Europe is won. Send in Captain von Klewitz and Lieutenant Mayer."

Von Klewitz and Mayer rushed in as soon as Weber opened the door.

Klewitz made no secret of his resentment at having to report to a mere civilian who knew nothing of war. He was a tall, aristocratic man with light blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. He was fond of fancy uniforms despite the relentless tropical heat.

"I hope you are well," said Klewitz condescendingly. "Will you be staying while we discuss military matters, Herr Weber?"

"I have asked Herr Weber to stay. I greatly value his counsel. I need your advice on the military situation that faces us. There are reports that an Australian military expedition is heading for Rabaul; do we know anything about it?"

"My advice is that you continue with evacuation of the government to Toma," said Klewitz. "With the government safe in Toma, the military will organise the defence of the wireless station. Let the enemy come if they dare. We will drench the jungles of New Guinea with their blood. The rivers will run with Australian blood..."

"I think the defence of Rabaul against a superior force is foolhardy," said Weber, surprising himself that he could be so bold. He found Klewitz's military bluster unbearable.

"Thank you for your opinion, Herr Weber, but this is a military matter," said Klewitz. "German prestige will be damaged if we do not put up a fight. Our strategy is that if a large Australian force lands, we will surrender Rabaul, and concentrate our military inland. Our military forces will be able to mount a more effective defence in terrain that favours us."

"Our troops are expert jungle fighters," added Mayer. "They are acclimatised to the tropics. The country inland from the coast is covered in thick impenetrable jungle, and sudden torrential rain turn creeks into raging rivers. The Australians do not have jungle fighting skills and will not venture far from the coast."

"We must not suppose that Australian soldiers will be a match for the German army," said von Klewitz grandly. "Such a notion is ridiculous. Australia is a thinly populated desert. The population is barely acquainted with civilisation and culture. They are the descendants of convicts and the gutter sweepings of Great Britain. I would rather die fighting, sword in hand, than surrender to a bunch of convicts. Our armed forces are highly trained in jungle warfare. We also have at our disposal a large native force ready to defend the colony. Our superior training and attitude will easily defeat the less experienced Australians."

"I agree, defending Rabaul in the face of a large force would be a bad strategy," said Mayer. "Our only course of action is to prepare strong defences in the jungle and ambush the enemy. We will gain time, luring the inexperienced Australians deeper into the jungle."

"Our troops will make short work of these wild colonial boys," said a confident Klewitz.

"I would like to make one observation if I may," said Weber. "I think the Australians will be formidable opponents. They believe they have the right to occupy New Guinea. When Germany annexed New Guinea, there was an outcry in the Australian press about the danger Germany posed to Australia's commercial and military interests."

"What's your point, Weber?" retorted Klewitz.

"Sir, I think we need to guard against underestimating the Australians. New Guinea is within a short cruise of Australia. Our spies report that war fever is rife across the country and that thousands of volunteers are pressing for a place in the war. They are recruiting a large force for overseas service. As we have already seen, the Australian navy is a force to be reckoned with."

"Yes, I see your point," replied Haber. "Von Klewitz you will need to work day and night to prepare our military for battle. An attack could come at any time. Prepare places for ambushes. We must defend the wireless station at Bitapaka. This is our only link with the outside world. If a large land force attacks, you must delay the enemy to give you time to dismantle the wireless apparatus. Then move all your forces back to Toma to defend our capital. See to it that the native troops are given extra training in rifle fire, marching and skirmishing."

Von Klewitz pulled out his sword with a dramatic flourish. "I will train the troops night and day, and prepare impregnable defences."

Haber sprang to his feet. "Gentlemen, German prestige is at stake. The loss of our Pacific colonies will deliver a heavy blow to the German war effort. The public will not stand for it. Germany has won its place in the sun. We must hold our colonies at all costs. Go, prepare for battle."

They marched out with great determination.

"Excellency, I think you should talk to the civilians who have been waiting all morning to speak to you," suggested Weber.

Haber marched into the foyer flanked by Weber, full of resolve. The crowd of anxious civilians parted to let them through. He climbed onto a podium and held up his hands appealing for calm.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Please be quiet. These are difficult times for all of us. An Australian naval and military force is on its way to attack Rabaul. In order to defend our colony, I have ordered that we relocate the capital to Toma. This will mean that Rabaul will not become a battleground. Our military will be defending the wireless station at Bitapaka and our new capital vigorously. Out at sea, von Spee is waiting for the right moment to attack the invaders and defend our colony. Now return to your homes. Keep the roads clear for our military."

As if on cue, a messenger rushed up to Haber holding aloft a telegram from Berlin. Haber read it for a few moments, and then he held it above his head. "Wonderful news from Berlin! Germany is victorious in Belgium and France. In the east, our army has routed the Russians. Our heroic army is advancing on all fronts. God save our Fatherland! God save the Kaiser!"

The crowd burst into cheers and applause, and sang the national anthem.

"That went very well, sir," said Weber, as they walked back to Haber's office.

"It is not to be supposed that a great trading and industrial nation, such as Germany has now become, will easily give up its commercial and trading gains in the Pacific," said Haber, with new enthusiasm. "There is a stirring in Germany to become a great colonial power and to take our place beside Britain and France. The German government has poured liberal subsidies into our Pacific colonies and we must not give them up. We must not let down our Fatherland."

When they arrived at Haber's office, the treasurer was waiting to see him.

"Now, I have a task of the utmost national importance for you. I have considered carefully what we should do with the treasury funds in the event of enemy forces landing. These must not fall into Australian hands. I wish you to bury them at several locations."

"Where shall I bury the funds?" asked the treasurer. "Should I bury them in Rabaul?"

"No, take them into the jungle as far inland as possible. Keep it secret from the natives. Make a map of where you have hidden the treasure and give me the map, is that understood?"

Weber stepped back into the office. "Sir, you have done everything necessary to protect the revenues and prepare us for an attack. I urge you to move to Toma now."

"There is more to be done before I go," said Haber wearily. "I fear that the natives may use this opportunity to abandon the plantations. We must not let this happen. Plantation owners and overseers are to be extra vigilant. The native police must drag back any natives fleeing plantations, and severely punish them. Issue orders to the police and soldiers not to spare the rod. A good flogging for captured runaways will instil fear into them. We must not forget that the natives are barely out of the Stone Age. Many tribes were cannibals until we imposed order and discipline. You see to them, the harder we are, the more they respect us. If we gave them a choice between living their old ways and living our way, the natives will always choose their way. Their idea of life is to catch enough fish and collect enough coconuts to live on each day. They then spend the rest of the day lounging about. Therefore, we must not give them a choice. To them the idea of labouring to earn money to buy material things is a totally unknown concept. If they run off back to their villages, we must drag them back, and give them a sound thrashing in front of their clan. This will act as a deterrent."

"Sir, the New Guineans have made huge progress," said Weber. "They have learnt about business from the Chinese, and the value of work from us. I think New Guinea will one day stand in the ranks of civilised nations."

Haber laughed. "You're a dreamer, my dear Weber. To compare a native to a German is preposterous. However, you have raised another concern I have – the Chinese population. There are more than a thousand Chinese living in Rabaul, and I am concerned about the breakdown of order if the Australians attack us. The Chinese may side with the Australians and turn on us."

"Sir, I doubt the Chinese in the colony will involve themselves in the fight. I believe they will sit on the sidelines and await the outcome."

"Yes, perhaps you're right. I have one more person I wish to see before I move to Toma. I sent a messenger earlier to bring Freda Scholl here. When she arrives, send her in and close the door. I do not wish to be disturbed."

Herr Weber, the puritan, said nothing. He busied himself with paperwork. When Freda arrived at Government House, he sent her to Haber's office.

Freda opened the door and peeped in. His office was almost bare. At the far end of the room, Haber struck a lonely figure sitting hunched behind his big empty desk. Freda stood silently for a few moments not wanting to interrupt him.

"Governor, you asked to see me?"

"Yes, come in my dear. These are very difficult times. The enemy is gathering on all sides. There is panic amongst the population. Our anxious residents look to me to rescue them and defeat the enemy. We must be resolute. There are rumours that the natives are planning an uprising to greet the Australians, and that we will be massacred. Others fear a Chinese uprising. But I want to assure you that all will be well. The High Command has ordered me to relocate the capital from Rabaul to Toma. I wish you to accompany me as my housekeeper."

She looked directly into his eyes, her eyes flashing with determination. "That is out of the question."

"I think you forget your place, madam. When your husband died, I came to your rescue and helped you. Now I expect you to help me in my hour of need."

"You expect me to leave Rabaul and follow you into the jungle to Toma, a primitive backwater? Surely, I'd be safer in Rabaul."

"Would you prefer to stay here and greet the Australians? There are rumours that no decent woman will be safe from their naughty caresses."

"I have met Australians before and they are not all bad. There will be nothing for me to do in Toma. I have a business to run in Rabaul, and will not leave it."

"Nonsense Freda, your place is by my side, answering to my every need. You must forget about your business, and think about me." He reached across the desk and took her hand gently. "I need you with me."

Before she could answer, he added, "I sent an attendant to collect your clothes from your home. He will be here soon with your suitcase."

"How dare you, what right do you have to treat me like this. I am not interested in being your housekeeper." Despite her anger, she could see that he was not going to back down.

"Please get ready as soon as you can. Make haste woman. Get the servants to pack my clothes and possessions. We're moving to Toma immediately."

Later that afternoon, Dr. Haber, Weber, and Freda set out by car for Toma, a frontier town in the hills inland from Rabaul. The journey was a difficult one. The road was in a bad state and Freda bounced around the car as it bumped its way forward.

They arrived in Toma late in the afternoon. Dr. Haber established his headquarters in a hotel in the centre of the small town.

Next morning, he rode on horseback from his headquarters to inspect the defensive preparations around the wireless station at Bitapaka. Work was progressing well on the construction of a trench system. Morale was high. The sight of German and New Guinean troops marching in perfect military formation cheered the German residents. He sought out von Klewitz to issue instructions and orders. He made a point of addressing him as a junior. This irked Klewitz, although many of the soldiers enjoyed watching him taken down a peg or two.

The soldiers worked feverishly under the hot equatorial sun preparing the defences. They laid mines at various points and established sniper nests in the trees. Klewitz drove his men hard. While the professional soldiers coped with the marches and drills in the tropical heat, the reservists found the going hard. In their daily lives, they were officials, planters and merchants. Klewitz had doubts about how useful they would be in a battle. To keep up morale, the soldiers lit bonfires in the jungle and sat around drinking beer, cooking German sausages and singing songs.

Rumours circulated around Rabaul and Toma about the latest war developments. Some said the Australians had forgotten about New Guinea and were more concerned with the war in Europe. Every day watchers atop the volcanoes around Rabaul anxiously scanned the Pacific for the expedition. The settlers started to relax. "Perhaps von Spee has frightened them away," said some. "After all, our victories in Europe have shattered the Allied war effort."

One evening, a messenger arrived at headquarters with news that an Australian convoy was steaming along the New Guinea coast.

The following morning, a lookout spotted the naval force of several battleships and a troop ship heading towards Rabaul.

"Where is the German Naval Squadron?" asked the residents of Rabaul. "Why is it not engaging the Australians? Perhaps von Spee is waiting for the right moment," said the optimists. Others thought that they'd been abandoned to their fate.

Captain von Klewitz and Lieutenant Mayer reported to Haber. Klewitz was confident that he could hold up the Australians and lure them into ambushes. "The jungle is impenetrable and will provide cover for our defenders. As a precaution, I have stationed native troops hidden in the jungle and in the trees. These amateur Australian troops will die like dogs and scatter to the wind. Then I will personally lead the charge and rout the enemy."

"If there is a break through, you must not let the wireless station fall into the hands of the Australians," said Haber.

"In the unlikely event the enemy breaks through, we will destroy the station and fall back to Toma. When the Australians see that the wireless station is unserviceable, they will fall back to their ships and we will then reoccupy the area. Lieutenant Mayer will be commanding a company of German and native soldiers stationed at Kokopo. This company will fall back into the jungle if a large hostile force lands, but keep track of the Australian advance, and at the right moment fall on his flanks and rear."

"What about the defence of the government in Toma?" asked Haber.

Von Klewitz shook his head vigorously. "A company of troops will be stationed in front of Toma to protect the government."

"Excellent, I think that is everything for the moment. To your posts, the battle for our colony is nearing. Steel yourselves for this day."

Klewitz and Mayer snapped to attention and marched off to their posts.

_If that puffed up peacock fights as well as he brags and boasts,_ mused Haber when he was alone, _we will be celebrating a great victory tonight. However, I fear the resolve of the Australians._

During the early morning, Admiral Patey and Colonel Holmes made final plans for the attack on German New Guinea. As they neared Rabaul, some warships detached from the convoy and raced ahead in the hope of catching the German fleet in Simpson Harbour. Other ships circled the Duke of York Islands, and moved around Cape Tawui. The German fleet had gone.

At dawn on 11 September, the _Berrima_ steamed into Simpson Harbour with flags flying. The sight dismayed the civilians in Rabaul watching the dramatic events unfold. They had hung their homes and shops with Red Cross flags to ward off bombardment.

The _Berrima's_ entrance was short-lived. The _Sydney_ flashed a warning, and the _Berrima_ turned around and headed out to sea.

"Bugger it!" said Milne, "we finally get to Rabaul and now we're off again. What the hell is..."

"Look over there," said Lawson.

They saw a German steamer entering Simpson Harbour unaware the Australians had arrived. By the time the German captain realised the gravity of the situation and tried to veer off, the _Sydney_ had her guns trained on the interloper.

The _Berrima_ steamed back into the harbour, once again to the cheers of the troops.

"Looks like the Germans aren't coming out to fight," said Milne, disappointed that the area around Rabaul was not bristling with enemy troops and weapons.

He was wrong. On a lookout atop one of volcanoes, von Klewitz watched intently as the Australian soldiers cheered and waved their hats.

"Well may you wave your hats like cowboys from the Wild West, I will soon cure your enthusiasm," he muttered, "this undisciplined rabble will wilt in the heat and fire of my disciplined troops."

### Chapter 3

This was not how Francis Milne thought the battle for German New Guinea would unfold. He imagined the infantry would storm ashore with fixed bayonets under a hail of bullets and shells, and crash into the German trenches. Then it would be man-to-man fighting, the cries of the wounded drowned by the shouts of the victors.

Instead, he had spent all morning leaning against the railings of the _Berrima_ , which was riding at anchor in Simpson Harbour. He felt like an observer rather than a participant. Australian naval units had landed at several points along the coast between Kokopo and Rabaul. He could hear the sounds of fighting in the jungle. Later in the morning, the _Berrima_ steamed south and anchored off Kabakaul, a small landing point between Kokopo and Rabaul. A messenger rowed out to the _Berrima._ Milne listened as the messenger reported to an officer that naval units were fighting German troops near Bitapaka. "The Germans have dug deep trenches and have set up ambushes along the jungle tracks. The troops can't see the enemy until they're nearly on top of them."

"This must be it," he said to Lawson. "Now is time for battle!"

Lawson was leaning with his head on the railing as if it was a pillow. "Wake me when something 'appens."

"Good stuff, eh lads...nothing like the smell of gunpowder in the air," said Sergeant Plumpton, walking over to them.

Neither replied. Lawson didn't like the sergeant who he nicknamed Hothead because of his volatile temper. Lawson didn't like pompous asses as he thought Plumpton to be because he was always bragging about how he had been in the cadets at school, and had served in the army before the war. Naturally, Plumpton thought he was an expert in military tactics and if only the officers would listen to him, he could win the war in a day. Although he was only a few years older than Lawson, he behaved as if he was much older.

"You must be champing at the bit to get at the Germans," he said to Lawson.

One of the few joys of Lawson's life was to bring people like Plumpton down a peg or two. If he could find a way to needle him, he would find it. He turned towards him still with his head resting on the railing. "Yeah Sarge, me and Francis can't wait to get a bloody move on, and show them Germans what we're made of."

"You're in luck, my lads, because they're sending in a machine-gun section to help out the navy boys and I volunteered the three of us to go ashore."

Milne said, "Sarge, thank you. At last action! Come on Cliff, into battle!"

They quickly clambered into rowboats crowded with soldiers, accompanied by shouting and swearing. Sailors rowed them to the stone jetty. They disembarked and marched up the road, passing a group of startled civilians standing under a clump of coconut trees. They continued through the coconut plantation into the jungle. Not far into the jungle, a messenger ran up to report to an officer. Milne stood nearby and listened in.

"Our sailors were pressing into the jungle when they ran into the entrenched Germans ready to spring an ambush," reported the messenger. "We saw their trick and opened fire. The enemy have stationed snipers in trees, and they fired down on us. Several sailors have been wounded, and a few killed. A wounded German staggered out of one of the trenches and we took him prisoner. One of the officers ordered him to tell his mates to surrender because there were more Australian troops coming up behind. Some of the Germans and native troops fell for that and started surrendering but others are putting up a fight."

They headed for the sound of firing, and came across a wounded sailor. He said, "We captured a German cyclist carrying a message from Dr. Haber – an order to the Bitapaka garrison to dismantle the wireless station. Later in the morning, we took another prisoner, a bloke on horseback with a message signed by von Klewitz reporting that Australian troops were marching on Bitapaka."

"Come on, the navy needs our help, attack!" shouted an officer leading the infantry.

In the confusion of the advance through the dense jungle, Milne and some other soldiers became lost. They had also lost Lawson somewhere in the jungle.

"Attack he says!" said Milne. "Where is the enemy? I can't see a damn thing in this damn jungle. I've sweated a bucket of water, and no Germans. I've been bitten by insects as big as bloody sparrows, and no Germans."

Lawson burst out of the jungle and ran towards them. "Hey lads! That was close; the enemy nearly captured me. What a fight I 'ad!"

"You were only gone half an hour, what happened?" asked Milne suspiciously.

"I stepped out of the line of march to relieve meself in them bushes back there. I looked down and a hand reaches out of the bush and grabbed me rifle, which I had leant against me leg. I grabbed it and 'ung on for dear life. With all me strength, I pulled hard and this big native bloke with a bone through his nose leaps out. I pulled the rifle out of his hand and clobbered him good and proper on the noggin. He run off howling like a demon, clutching his head. Then he come back hollering with at least three more big blokes! They all had bones in their ears and noses and was wearing war paint."

Milne was sceptical. "You must have been bloody terrified."

"Not a bit of it mate, I don't scare so easy is the way it is. Cool as a cucumber, I fix me bayonet, squeezed off a shot and charged at 'em. You should have seen the terrified look on their faces as I hurtled through the jungle shouting at the top of me lungs. The very sight of me threw them into a terror and the ten of them shot through the jungle howling like banshees."

"Ten of 'em?" said Milne surprised, "I thought you said there was three of 'em."

"Well...more joined the original group."

A group of sailors and German prisoners came down the track. One of the prisoners had a heavily bandaged arm.

"Poor buggers look done in, like us," said Milne. "That one looks in a bad way. What happened to him?"

"He was shot in the hand and was bleeding real bad," said one of the sailors guarding the prisoner. "Captain Pockerly, the medico, had to amputate it to save his life. You know, the prisoner didn't cry out during the operation. I saw the whole thing - he didn't even flinch. But not long after, a sniper shot Pockerly in the head. His body's up ahead."

"What about that German officer over there in the fancy uniform?" asked Lawson.

"That's Mayer, one of the German officers. We captured him in the first few minutes of the battle. We caught him as he was scouting around looking for us. He didn't put up much of a fight. The poor bugger is still in shock."

Lawson walked over to Lieutenant Mayer for a closer look. "That's some fancy uniform you got on Fritz, you look like a toy soldier." Mayer looked at him in despair and lowered his head.

"I'll look after the prisoners," said the sailor, "why don't you blokes head up the track and help capture the wireless station. The Germans and native troops are putting up a hell of a fight. Watch out for snipers hiding in the trees."

As they pressed on through the jungle, they came across the bodies of New Guinean soldiers, laid in rows. "Snipers," said a wounded sailor sitting nearby. "You can't see 'em until you're right underneath them. They got my lieutenant right through the heart." He gestured to a young officer lying nearby with a bullet hole in his chest. "That's Lieutenant Elwell. The Germans were holding up the advance. He ordered us to fix bayonets. He pulled out his sword and led a frontal assault on the German trench. I saw him die. He was a bloody hero."

Bullets ripped through the jungle ahead of them. They crawled over to a group of sailors who were firing into the trees. "Over there in that big tree, you see him?" whispered one of the sailors to another.

"I see him alright, I got 'im in me sights." He squeezed off a shot. There was a muffled cry, and a sniper plunged headfirst out of the tree and landed with a thump. Within the space of ten minutes, soldiers shot three more snipers out of the trees.

German and New Guinean soldiers came out of the jungle with white flags.

"Not much action here," said Milne. "I think we should report in. Let's head back and find the rest of the unit."

"Look over there, the machine-gun section is setting up the gun," said Lawson. "Look out, there's Plumpton coming up the track, we'd better make ourselves scarce."

"Where the devil have you two been?" shouted Plumpton.

Lawson told him how he had fought off a battalion of New Guinean soldiers who were about to outflank them. Milne added his own story about getting lost.

"You two must think I was born yesterday," retorted Plumpton. "You've been skiving off under a tree having a good time while I've been engaging the enemy." Before he could finish his speech, a bullet whizzed by his ear. He dived into a clump of bushes. "Take cover, we're under attack!"

Milne and Lawson remained standing. "It was nothin' Sarge, just a bullet. We've seen plenty of 'em ain't we, Francis?"

Plumpton crawled out of the bush with a sheepish look on his face. "This doesn't change anything...I'll put you both on report...come on let's get back into it."

The sight of the machine guns being set up was too much for the defenders, and more came out with their hands up. The German officer in charge of the first line of defence of the wireless station also gave himself up. This now opened the way for the final assault. While the defenders were in disarray, a unit of sailors advanced on the wireless station. Plumpton, Lawson and Milne joined them. They encountered a large force of German and New Guinean troops dug in. They demanded they surrender.

"Give it up Fritz," shouted Lawson, "or we'll come and get you. You don't stand a chance."

The German officer leading the defence, realising the Australians outnumbered his force, came out to parley. When he stepped out, an officer disarmed him. The rest of the defenders surrendered and the wireless station fell into Australian hands.

At German headquarters, Dr. Haber waited anxiously for news of the Australian landing and advance. News trickled in during the early morning that the Australians had landed in numbers and were advancing on the wireless station at Bitapaka. At first, the news was encouraging - the defenders had held up the Australian advance. His mood darkened as messengers brought increasingly alarming news that the Australians were near to capturing the wireless station. Later in the morning, he learnt that the Australians had taken Lieutenant Mayer prisoner. This was bad news. Mayer was supposed to fall on the Australian rear as they advanced inland. With Mayer a prisoner, this plan went out the window, and his troops retreated towards Toma. The German defensive plan was unravelling.

A messenger arrived with a communiqué from Admiral Patey demanding the immediate surrender of all German forces.

"This is a very difficult situation, Weber. Although the battle has not developed in our favour, we have yet to commit our main force."

"I have a suggestion," said Weber. "Stall the Australians. Put them off. Tell the admiral you don't have the authority to surrender."

"Yes, excellent. Get a message to Admiral Patey immediately. Now, I sent an urgent request for reinforcements. Has any word been received?"

"Ah, there is some good news," replied Weber, beaming. "A large company of reinforcements is on the way and we expect them to land on the other side of the island in a few days. It will not take them long to march overland to Toma."

"Yes, if I can string the Australians along, we will gather all our forces, plus the reinforcements, and launch a counterattack." At the thought of this strategy, Haber rubbed his hands together and chuckled.

"Sir, a messenger has arrived from the wireless station," said Weber, hoping for more good news.

"Unfortunately," began the messenger, "the Australians have broken through and are pressing on the wireless station. They have overrun the first line of defence, and the wireless station is now vulnerable to attack."

"Quick, take a message back to our remaining soldiers guarding the station," demanded Haber. "Tell them they must be tough and hold out as long as they can and then destroy it rather than let it fall into enemy hands."

As the messenger hurried out, Haber turned to Weber. "What about von Klewitz's boast about routing the enemy? That it has come to this, Weber. Where is von Klewitz? I have not seen him since the battle began. Do you see the quality of the soldiers they give me to defend the colony? If the Australians overwhelmed our forces so easily, what chance do we have defending our capital? Oh, why did I ever leave Berlin for this infernal backwater!"

Weber nodded sympathetically. "Sir, perhaps now is the time to consider surrendering."

"I cannot consider this yet...not until all hope is lost. Are we sure the Australians are here to stay?"

Just at that moment, von Klewitz galloped into headquarters. He cut a dashing figure in full military uniform on horseback. At the same time, he looked surreal, out of place, as if he had galloped off a movie set into a jungle setting.

"What is our current situation Captain von Klewitz?" asked Haber.

"I am pleased to report that the military situation is going very well. Our battle plan is unfolding just as I planned and our forces have pulled back from Rabaul to prevent the town being bombarded."

"I have received a report that the wireless station is in danger of falling into enemy hands. What do you say to that?"

"I fear we will lose the wireless station. However, the crucial battle is yet to begin – the battle for Toma. I intend to concentrate all our military forces in front of Toma. My disciplined soldiers will cut the Australians to pieces. Those mangy dogs will crawl back to their ships, like the curs they are."

"Losing the wireless station will be a heavy blow," said Haber. "We will lose contact with the outside world. Von Klewitz, are you describing some other battle? How can you say everything is going well?"

"The government is safe, and as long as you do not fall into the enemy's hands, we will not be defeated. I think you must consider moving the capital deep into the Baining Mountains. From there we will continue to fight on and we will either be victorious or perish in the flames of ..."

"This move is not without risk," Weber cut in. "The Baining Mountains are isolated, rugged and forbidding. The natives are savage and largely untouched by civilisation. They will resent our arrival."

"We will launch a punitive expedition and exterminate the savages," retorted Klewitz. "We will beat them into submission."

"I can't surrender, I can't retreat," said Haber, shaking his head. "We must fight on and hope the Australians return to their ships. Von Klewitz, prepare for the defence of Toma. God save the Kaiser!"

Back on the _Berrima,_ Colonel Holmes waited for word to send the main force into battle. He deliberately kept it in reserve, waiting for the right moment to deliver the crushing blow. From his point of view, the battle was going well. The Germans had withdrawn from the coast, and Rabaul was defenceless. As reports came in during the morning about the capture of German positions on the road to Bitapaka, he decided it was time to send the infantry in under Colonel Watson. This force landed on the coast and set out across country towards Bitapaka. Holmes stood on the deck of the _Berrima_ and watched the infantry march into the jungle.

The infantry made little progress in the difficult terrain and night ended hostilities. Watson's force returned to camp. Holmes went ashore to join him. He was in a good mood. "All is going well. Perhaps now Dr. Haber will agree to surrender. Admiral Patey has left me with the task of securing Dr. Haber's surrender. Haber is being evasive. He's trying to buy time. Tomorrow, you will take the infantry to Toma. If the Germans resist, hit 'em hard."

During the evening, other Australian soldiers and sailors made their way back to camp, among them, Milne and Lawson. That evening around a campfire, Lawson told the others about the final assault on the wireless station. "It was touch and go there, the sailors were firing into the enemy trenches, but the Germans wouldn't give an inch. An officer turned to me and asked me to take the wireless station. I stood up and attacked, and when the sailors saw me advance, they leapt up and attacked. We burst into the wireless station. The Germans were sitting down to lunch, and had bibs tucked into their collars. They looked like stunned mullets, and surrendered to me."

Lawson picked up a tree branch and charged into a bush to demonstrate his attacking technique.

"He must have done that when I wasn't looking," quipped Milne.

Then for good measure, Lawson retold his encounter with the New Guinean soldiers in the jungle. The story had gotten taller and taller. It now appeared that he had single-handedly fought off a company of soldiers who were about to outflank the Australians. The younger soldiers listened wide-eyed to the stories, while the veterans smiled and shook their heads.

"Your mate knows how to lay on the bullshit," said a veteran to Milne.

"Yeah, he's one of the best I've ever met," he replied.

They bedded down for the night.

The following morning, the infantry divided into two groups – one group joined the garrison in Kokopo in preparation for the advance on Toma, and the other group re-embarked on the _Berrima_ , and headed for Rabaul.

The _Berrima_ docked at the wharf in the afternoon. Milne was part of a unit headed by Sergeant Plumpton, which marched into Rabaul to occupy key government buildings and major roads. They clattered along the wharf watched by a crowd of onlookers, and turned into a straight road lined with white houses on stilts shaded by large trees. German colonists sat or stood on their deep, airy verandas silently watching them. As they pushed towards central Rabaul, large crowds of civilians stood along the road.

Milne noticed the exotic diversity of the population – there were German planters and officials in white suits and pith helmets, Japanese girls wearing kimonos, Chinese traders with wide straw hats, and scantily dressed Tolai, chewing betel nuts, which dyed their teeth red.

The march halted while they waited for other troops to disembark. His unit stood at ease under the shade of a vast tree while Plumpton checked on which parts of the town they were to occupy. A group of Japanese women stood nearby watching them. He noticed one Japanese girl standing apart from the others. She was watching him intently. She had a quality that drew him to her. She smiled enigmatically. He nodded shyly. She did not seem shy like the other girls who hid their faces behind their fans and giggled if the soldiers looked at them. She signalled to him to come over to her. He walked towards her cautiously.

As he approached, he noticed the wistful expression on her face, and her sad brown eyes. There was something haunting about her eyes. Although she looked like a young girl, he guessed she was about his age. She was very pretty and daintily held a parasol over her head. She wore a white cotton western-style dress and high sandals. She bowed as he was about to speak.

"Pardon me young lady, you and your friends should return to the safety of your homes in case there is a fight," he said with as much authority as he could muster.

"Please thank you sir," she said in a soft voice. "I will be all right. All German soldiers have gone. I am glad you are here."

Milne saluted, but was not sure how he should reply. Should he insist that she return to her home? "You have nothing to fear...I will see to it that ...um you won't be molested...not that anyone..." his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought. "But please return to your home now."

"I will go home if you promise to visit me soon," she said boldly.

"I'm not sure that will be allowed...you see...that is..."

"Look for me at the Black Cat," she said, turning away. "Asami is my name. I will look after you."

She returned to her friends who giggled and whispered as they walked down the long tree-lined street. He watched her go, taking dainty little steps, her narrow hips swaying. _She is so pretty, and little, and graceful but she is so sad, so that was Asami...just as Cliff described her...sweet Asami._

"What the devil are you gawking at Private Milne!" barked Plumpton.

He nearly leapt into the air in shock. He had been so intent on watching Asami that he had not noticed that his unit had started to move to their assigned positions. Plumpton clenched his fists in rage.

"Sorry sir, I asked that young lady and her friends to return home for their safety."

Plumpton glanced down the road. "Yes, I am aware of what's going on in your mind young fellow. I will not have any shenanigans in my unit. To your duty lad, and keep well away from that sort of woman. Nothing but trouble. Now come along."

"Yes sir," replied Milne dutifully.

He joined his unit and they occupied the main roads and government offices and hauled down all German flags.

Plumpton assigned Milne to guard the main road into Rabaul. He stood under the shade of a spreading tree, reflecting on his meeting with Asami. He decided that fate had ordained that they should meet. It seemed improbable to him that he could come all this way and within a few hours of arriving in Rabaul, he should meet her. What were the chances? He concluded that it was his destiny to meet her, in this place and at this time. He smiled to himself as he went over in his head what she had said. He did not understand everything she said. She spoke so softly. He could not forget her sorrowful eyes. They seemed to implore him to help her. _That must be it,_ he thought. _She needs my help that is why she spoke to me._

He was deep in thought when Plumpton interrupted him. This time he was smiling. "I have an important task for you," he began in a friendly tone.

"Oh yes sir."

"Now that we have Rabaul, Colonel Holmes is sending his orderly under a flag of truce to Dr. Haber with a demand to surrender. You are to accompany the orderly. Get a move on man, double-quick time. Off you go!"

"Thank you, Sarge," he shouted, as he raced off to find the orderly.

"You're just the man I need for this mission," said the orderly. "You sit on the back of the motorbike and hold the flag of truce in one hand and with the other hang on for dear life. See you don't get your head shot off - there's a good lad."

He proceeded along the road to Toma, perched precariously on the back of the bike. The road was appalling, full of ruts and soft edges. Within the first few miles, they slid off the road and crashed into a tree. Ten minutes later, Milne lost his grip and fell off –skidding across the muddy road and plunging into a ditch. He climbed back on the bike and they pressed on until a thunderstorm turned the road into a quagmire. The bike slid erratically and crashed into a clump of prickly palm trees. They could not get the bike started.

Some locals offered them shelter. They sat out the downpour in a communal hut. Their hosts watched them curiously, wondering what difference these new conquerors would make to their lives. "No likee Germans...Australians good fellows," said an old man.

When the rain stopped, they started the bike and set off to the shouts of encouragement from their new friends. They eventually arrived at German headquarters in Toma covered in mud, cuts and bruises. Weber met them at the door. "Did you meet with an accident, gentlemen?" he asked.

They pushed him aside.

"You men, you must not enter this office, it is German territory."

"Not anymore, mate," snapped the orderly. "This is now Australian territory."

"Now gentlemen, Dr. Haber has a message for you to take back to your commander. Please see that it is delivered."

"I'm obliged to tell you that if this letter is not an agreement to surrender, I have orders to arrest Haber," replied the orderly.

"Very good, gentlemen, you take this message to Colonel Holmes and we will await his reply."

They hopped on the bike and headed back to the coast.

When they had gone, Haber came out of his office. He had barely slept, and now his day was starting as badly as yesterday. "The shame of it all! Surely, our position is not hopeless yet. Our soldiers must fight on. I do not wish to be the first governor in the German Empire to surrender our hard won possessions. Oh, the ignominy. I won't be able to show my face in Germany. What shall I do?"

"Sir, if the military situation does not improve, I think surrender will be your only option. Sir, von Klewitz has returned."

Klewitz marched through the front door looking very pleased with himself. Anyone would think he was the leader of a victorious army. "When Holmes gets your message and discovers you're not surrendering, he will send soldiers to arrest you. If the military situation improves, you can ignore his request, and instead demand his surrender!"

"Is it possible? I have not heard from Admiral von Spee. Where is he?"

"It is my view that he is deliberately avoiding sending messages so as not to give away his position," said Klewitz confidently. "Even now, von Spee is waiting for the right moment to attack. Then like Siegfried with his sword aloft, he will smash the Australian navy. We will have Holmes trapped."

"Von Klewitz, pull all the soldiers back to Toma," commanded Haber. "I want you to beat off the Australian attack."

"I have given orders for the defences to be extended around Toma," said Klewitz with a sweep of his hand. "The Australians were lucky to capture the wireless station. Now we have the measure of these colonial troops, their defeat is inevitable. They will be squashed like bugs, rivers of blood will..."

"That will be all," Haber cut in. "To your post, God save the Kaiser!"

Klewitz saluted and added, "I urge you to move the capital to the Baining Mountains immediately."

He marched out the door, brushing past Freda who was carrying refreshments for them. As he did so, he turned up his nose.

"I have made coffee for you," she said.

"Freda, I need to speak to you alone," said Haber. "Please leave us, Herr Weber."

She put down the tray and sat in the chair he indicated.

He remained standing behind his desk, lost in thought, as if he had forgotten why he wanted to speak to her. "The battle for the wireless station did not go in our favour, and the enemy is closing in. I have decided to leave Toma and go into the mountains, beyond the reach of the Australians."

"I saw those Australians who came on the motorbike earlier," she said. "I was listening at the door. I heard everything – they will arrest you if you do not surrender."

"Freda, my mind is made up. We must remember that surrendering our colony is out of the question. We must uphold the honour of the German Empire. Therefore, we must flee into the mountains. We will have to live rough among the natives. It means giving up everything..."

"What do you mean 'we'? I agreed to come with you to Toma. I did not agree to go wandering around the jungle. Have you lost your wits, man? Has the tropical heat befuddled your senses? What will we live on? Where will we go? I will not go with you."

"You will come with me and that's the end of the matter. I brought you to Toma so you could comfort me. I slept in a cold bed last night. I have made my decision. I cannot bring myself to surrender; I have no other choice. Freda, tell the servants to pack up our belongings. We'll have to travel light."

"I couldn't tell you before – the servants have fled into the jungle."

"So...the rats are deserting the ship. Come woman grab what you can. Only take essentials. We must be gone within the hour."

He walked around the desk, and before she could react, he fell at her knees. He grabbed her legs in a bear hug, and pleaded with her to be kind to him. "All this talk of war and battles...we have little time and we don't know what our future will be. Come to my bed."

"What, have you completely lost your mind!" she shrieked. "I am not going into the jungle with you, nor will I allow you to have your way with me."

She broke away from his hold, tearing her dress, and moved to the other side of the desk.

"For God's sake woman, how can you deny me?"

Before she could answer, Weber bustled in the door. He stopped in mid-sentence when he saw Haber on his knees, and Freda behind the desk with a torn dress and a worried look on her face.

"Sir, von Klewitz has sent a message urging you to leave Toma. The Australian infantry is expected to march tomorrow morning."

"I will not leave unless Freda comes with me," said Haber, like a spoilt child.

Weber begged her to go with them to Toma. She relented and agreed to go into the unknown.

"You see what I have to put up with," said Haber, when she had gone to pack. "If I even consider surrendering, von Klewitz seems to manifest himself, as if by magic, and I get yet another speech about fighting to the end, the glory of Germany and so on. If I mention that I must avoid capture and venture into the unknown, Freda flies into a rage."

Milne's return journey to deliver Haber's message to Holmes was as eventful as his first journey. The orderly said that the road was too muddy in places, so he decided to take a 'short cut' through the jungle. This time, Milne's legs were caught between two trees and he was propelled backwards at speed. Soon after, they crashed into a village whose inhabitants were not happy that the bike destroyed their communal vegetable garden. They rode off under a hail of stones and spears, with Milne desperately clinging to the back of the bike. They crashed through a tangle of vines and jungle, and burst out the other side straight down a long steep hill. The orderly applied the brakes, which failed. They were going downhill at a cracking pace. Each time they hit a bump, Milne flew into the air, but never let go of the bike. They crashed into a thick strand of jungle, which broke their fall, and stopped the bike in its tracks. They sprawled on the ground, laughing. He helped the orderly to his feet. Neither was hurt, and they continued their journey at a slower pace.

They made it back to Australian headquarters, and handed Holmes the message from Haber.

"What nonsense is this!" shouted Holmes. "This Haber, or acting governor as he calls himself, claims he has no authority to surrender the colony – only the Kaiser has this authority! He has offered to meet with me to discuss the situation. What are we to discuss, the weather? There is no doubt in my mind that he is stalling so he can escape. Tomorrow we march on Toma. Go back to Toma and arrest him, and bring him to me. Drag him here if you must. These Germans need to know I am in charge now. After this day, German New Guinea has ceased to exist. We have offered to end this fight peacefully, but they persist in delaying tactics. The time has come to crush all resistance."

The scene was set for the final act in the battle for German New Guinea. Colonel Watson led the infantry to Toma to defeat the German army. The HMAS _Encounter_ fired shells into the ridges between the coast and Toma, preceding his march.

Holmes marched into Rabaul at the head of a large military and naval contingent, accompanied by a brass band, to occupy the town formerly.

He held a ceremony in Proclamation Square overlooking Simpson Harbour. Australian infantry formed up on three sides of the square. They raised flag and sang the anthem. Holmes proclaimed that he had occupied New Guinea and that the German colonial government had ceased to exist. He promised that he would protect the lives and property of peaceful residents, and the laws and customs of the colony would remain in force.

Most of the German residents in Rabaul gathered to witness the historical ceremony. They quietly accepted the inevitable and made the most of their changed circumstances.

Meanwhile, Watson met with no opposition as he marched on Toma. Half way to Toma, an envoy from Haber under a flag of truce asked to meet with him. He said to Watson, "Dr. Haber has no authority to surrender German New Guinea. Since the German capital has been moved to Toma, your occupation of Rabaul is meaningless."

Watson replied that he intended to occupy Toma. To which the envoy replied, "Then we will move to the Baining Mountains." To which Watson retorted, "Then we will chase you there."

While the envoy hurried back to Toma to give Haber the message, the infantry continued the march.

All morning, messengers arrived to report on the progress of Watson's force. Haber knew it was the end. If he allowed von Klewitz to lead the troops into battle, they risked defeat. Recognising that an intact, undefeated army would be a useful bargaining chip in peace talks, he decided to send an envoy to meet with Holmes to discuss peace terms. He ordered Klewitz to stand down the army.

Unaware that Haber had decided to enter into peace talks, the orderly and Milne were heading for Toma again, with orders to arrest Haber if he refused to surrender.

"Here we are again," said Milne. "I wish these officers would make up their minds. We should have arrested Haber the first time around."

Late in the afternoon, they were nearing Toma when they saw two people ahead walking along the track.

"Hey, isn't that Haber up ahead," said the orderly. "He's got a suitcase, and a woman is with him. I wonder where he thinks he is going. Let's overtake him."

He rode up behind them. "You there, halt or we'll shoot," he shouted.

Haber swung around. "How dare you address me in that way. This is an outrage. My assistant and I were merely taking an afternoon walk. I intend to meet with Colonel Holmes tomorrow morning. My envoy has informed your commander of my intention."

"Do you always take your suitcase on your walks?" asked Milne.

"How dare you imply that I was seeking to escape," he retorted. "I have official papers in my possession which I can't leave in the office given the volatile situation in the colony."

"I have orders to arrest you Mr. Haber," said the orderly. "But since you have agreed to peace talks my work is done."

"Pardon me, my correct title is 'Dr.' Haber, not 'Mr.' Haber, and please address me as 'Your Excellency,' Governor of German New Guinea."

"Not anymore mate, Colonel Holmes is the governor now," said Milne, under his breath.

"Private Milne and I will remain in Toma tonight and accompany you to the peace talks tomorrow morning."

"You are most welcome. I insist you dine with me tonight."

Haber's invitation to dinner did not include Private Milne – he stayed outside on guard. He could hear the dinner conversation. Haber offered the orderly schnapps, which he at first refused because he was on duty, but Haber insisted and the orderly complied.

Milne heard someone calling to him. He peered into the darkness and saw a person trying to attract his attention. The person stepped closer. It was Freda.

"Please, can I speak with you," she said, in a thick German accent.

"You're Haber's assistant aren't you? I recognise you from earlier today."

"What is your name please?" she asked.

"Private Milne at your service madam," he said, lifting his slouch hat.

"My name is Freda Scholl; I am not Haber's assistant. He insisted I accompany him when he fled from Rabaul. I live in Rabaul but he will not allow me to return home. I need your help to get home."

"Your name sounds familiar," said Milne. "Do you know a bloke called Cliff Lawson?"

"Yes, I certainly do. It would be hard to forget someone like him. He was in Rabaul last year – I employed him at my club. He got roaring drunk, got into a fight with some off-duty German soldiers, smashed up my club and terrified my girls. The police arrested him, put him in prison, but he escaped and caused further uproar in Rabaul. Why do you ask?"

"He's in Rabaul as part of the Australian army."

"God help us! He makes promises he never keeps. He's a bad man, but he is always making the joke."

"I thought he was telling one of his tall stories. He talked about your club, the Black Cat. He also mentioned a Japanese girl called Asami. I met her in Rabaul a few days ago."

"Oh yes, Asami is a pretty girl, is she not? When you come back to Rabaul, you must come to the Black Cat and spend time with her. So will you help me escape?"

"I'm a soldier, madam. I obey orders. If I help you escape, the orderly will report me."

"You'd like Asami and she would like you. If you help me escape, you can visit my club anytime you want."

"Ah, there you are Private Milne," slurred the orderly. "Dr. Haber has given me his word that he will come with us to meet Colonel Holmes tomorrow, so you can stand down. We're billeted in the house next door."

He followed the orderly into the house and helped him into bed. When he returned to the place where he had been talking to Freda, Haber was trying to drag her by the arm saying, "I will not sleep alone again tonight. Come woman, to your duty." Freda was struggling with him, refusing to go inside.

"Release that woman," demanded Milne, pointing his rifle at him.

Haber swung around with a look of fury on his face. "How dare you point your rifle at me. You...you ruffian, you are dismissed; this is a matter between Frau Scholl and I."

Milne stood his ground and continued to point his gun at him. Weber came out and stood between them. He put his hands up, appealing for peace.

Haber turned to Freda. "You ungrateful wench, after all I've done for you. This is how you repay me. You are making a disgraceful scene in front of a common soldier. I disown you. Go back to Rabaul for all I care. Go, serve your new masters."

Milne invited Freda to move into his billet. "Don't worry madam; you'll be safe with me. And if Haber tries any tricks...well, he'd better not."

She agreed and collected her possessions. Milne strung a sheet up in the corner of the billet to give her privacy.

The following morning, he and the orderly were up at dawn preparing for the return journey to headquarters. Weber visited them, and told Milne that he would escort Freda back to Rabaul and ensure her safety.

### Chapter 4

While these dramatic events were unfolding in the jungles of New Guinea, a new Australian government took office. The 1914 election delivered government to the Australian Labour Party led by Andrew Fisher and his ambitious Attorney-General and deputy Prime Minister, William Hughes.

Soon after swearing in, Fisher, Hughes, and Senator George Pearce, Minister for Defence, met in the Parliamentary offices in Melbourne to discuss the war effort.

"Gentlemen, the Australian people have given us an overwhelming mandate to prosecute this war," said Fisher. "Our young Federation is facing its greatest test. We are engaged in a struggle for our very existence. If the British Empire fails in this fight, the Germans will cut off Australia from the Empire."

"There is no question that we look to the glories of England," said Pearce. "We shared her victories and triumphs. We must be prepared to share her difficulties and, if need be, her disasters. If Britain goes to her Armageddon, we will go with her. Our fate and hers are intertwined."

"We will not fail the Empire," declared Fisher. "Australians will stand beside the mother country and defend her to our last man and our last shilling. Every resource, every ounce of blood will be spent on waging this war until final victory. We must not waver or lose heart in the face of what is to come. We need to press ahead with the utmost urgency in assembling a force to rush to the aid of the mother country. Senator, how is planning for this going?"

"The General Staff is making plans to embark twenty thousand men shortly. My department is working hard to put the necessary arrangements in place."

"Every day that goes by is vital for the survival of the Empire," said Fisher. "Make haste Senator, make haste."

"Prime Minister, there is no doubt the Australian people are with us on this," said Hughes. "Australia will show that it is not a fair-weather partner of the Empire, but a staunch member in all circumstances. As long as our interests coincide, we will stand by Great Britain at this trying time."

"Senator is there any news about our recent action against the Germans in the Pacific?" asked Fisher.

"Prime Minister, we are advised that our campaign to capture German New Guinea is a great success. An Australian force landed a week ago and after a brief battle captured Rabaul. I am confident that a great victory will be won."

"This is very timely, Senator. To announce a victory early in the war will boost public support for the war."

"I understand that soon all of the South Pacific islands occupied by Germany will fall to us," said Hughes.

"We need to tread carefully here," cautioned Fisher. "Japan has declared war on Germany at the behest of the British. Japan also has interests in the Pacific. I expect the Japanese will seize the German colonies in China, and strategic Pacific islands. The Japanese navy will help protect our supply lines."

"The Japanese!" said Hughes, in a strangled voice. "We should be devising means to defend ourselves against the Japanese. Leaving the Japanese in control of any former German islands in the Pacific is like leaving a burglar in the kitchen when you've gone to bed."

"I'll remind you that Japan is an ally of the Empire in the war against Germany, and therefore our ally."

Hughes leaned forward and stretched out his long skinny arms. "The policies of nations are liable to change; history has shown that friends in one war are not always friends in the next."

"What is your point?" asked Fisher.

"If we stand by and let the Japanese seize islands in the Pacific, we risk allowing a more deadly enemy to entrench itself within striking distance of Australia. Once we win the war against Germany, will the Japanese leave these islands? No, not a bit of it. This is our backyard...our duck pond. If we don't deal with this matter now, we will create a problem for ourselves in the future."

"I do not believe that the Empire alone has the capability to drive the Germans out of the Pacific," said Fisher. "The Empire's war effort is focussed on Europe. Japan has a strong navy which will help to defeat the Germans in the Pacific."

Hughes stood his ground. "At the risk of repeating myself, I say again, we must warn the British about relying too heavily on Japan. I agree it might solve a short-term threat – but it will create a greater threat to Australia in the long term. I tell you when we have defeated Germany, Japan will want its share of the spoils. We must do everything we can to prevent the Japanese getting a foothold in any islands near Australia."

Fisher controlled his temper. "Nothing will be gained by raking over old ground, Mr. Hughes. The British are looking to Japan to help with the war effort. However, Senator, we should seek clarification from the British about which Pacific islands we are to occupy, and which Japan is to occupy."

At this, Hughes almost leapt out of his chair. "This is precisely my point. We should be telling the British which islands we will occupy, and keeping the Japanese out of the Pacific all together."

When Fisher didn't respond, Hughes changed tack and said, "Did I not warn the British about the threat posed by German expansionism in the Pacific? I was not alone when I warned that allowing Germany to occupy New Guinea was a direct threat to Australia. The British ignored our protests and the Germans walked into New Guinea and turned it into a colony. Then to add insult to injury, Germany seized Samoa and turned it into a colony. We were betrayed."

"Mr. Hughes, please! This is not the time to air these grievances. The British were engaged in colonial matters in Africa at the time."

"Now, returning to our policy on relations with Japan," said Hughes.

"No, I need to know the magnitude of the threat to Australia from the German Pacific fleet," said Fisher firmly. "Senator Pearce, how many enemy ships are patrolling the Pacific? Is our navy up to the task of defeating them?"

"The short answer to this is yes. The Australian navy outguns the German Pacific fleet. So far, there have been no major engagements. Von Spee is avoiding a battle with us. He risks total destruction if he does. Admiral Patey is scouring the Pacific for him. The Japanese navy is also looking for him."

At the mention of the Japanese, Hughes cut in again. "I believe the Japanese are a greater threat to us in the long term than the Germans. The Germans are a long way from home on the end of a long and exposed supply line. I believe we will easily defeat them, and secure New Guinea and other islands for Australia. Japan is a different matter. It sees the Pacific as within its sphere of influence. When we remove the German threat, we'll never be safe if we allow the Japanese a foothold on our doorstep. We will replace one enemy with a far more dangerous one."

"This is not the time to debate whether Japan is a greater threat to Australia than Germany," said Fisher. "You've made your point about the Japanese, please continue Senator with your assessment of German military strength in the Pacific."

"The jewel in our crown is the HMAS _Australia_. She outguns the largest German ship. The Germans know it. Von Spee will not risk engaging the Australian navy. Therefore, we will isolate German garrisons in the region. We will defeat the enemy and remove the threat to Australia."

"I certainly don't need to remind you that the Labour Party was instrumental in building our navy," said Fisher quickly, before Hughes could jump in again. "Labour Party policy has always been that a strong navy is essential if we are to survive in the vast sea of Asia. The Opposition was in favour of handing over control of our navy to the British. If that had happened, Australia would be defenceless against the German navy."

"In fact," Hughes cut in, "we should be reminding the Australian people that it was the Labour Party which insisted on commissioning the HMAS _Australia_. Only the presence of the _Australia_ is stopping the German navy from marauding down our east coast. Can you imagine the reaction of the public if German ships shelled Brisbane and Sydney?"

"We will be victorious in New Guinea, and deny the Germans a base for future operations against Australia," continued Pearce.

"In this act, we will let the world know that any country that threatens our borders can expect no mercy," said Hughes, thumping the table. "The Australian people will expect nothing less than an overwhelming victory that will echo around the world. This echo will reverberate through the halls of German militarism. Let the Prussian expansionist thugs tremble at Australian might!"

Fisher nodded wearily. "Yes, thank you Mr. Hughes."

"Pardon me Prime Minister," interrupted an official, "you have an urgent call in your office."

Fisher left the room promising to be back in a moment.

Pearce and Hughes moved to a corner of the room by the window.

"Fisher seems distracted by events," began Hughes. "The election campaign was a tough one. He has worked very hard."

"He certainly doesn't look well, I have to say," said Pearce. "The moment seems to have caught up with him."

"Yes, he looks tired and dispirited," said Hughes conspiratorially. "Events are moving fast and we are part of history. History is happening now. He needs to keep on top. I think he should be warning the British about giving the Japanese too much power and prestige. As I say, give them a bit of China or the Pacific and they will want more. Before you know it, they will be having delusions of grandeur. Make no mistake – Japan sees Australia as a rival for influence in the Pacific."

"Now is certainly not the time to falter," said Pearce. "But I believe he will hold up, he is strong."

"Although he did look pale and wane, even anxious," observed Hughes.

"Perhaps knowing you are behind him makes him nervous," quipped Pearce.

"I'm sure the party was right when it chose him over me as our leader. Many of my supporters said it was my drive and leadership during the election campaign that got us across the line. Of course, I disagreed with them - it was a team effort I said. Yes, I played a critical leadership role. Yes, I drove myself hard during the campaign. Yes, huge crowds of cheering supporters turned out to all my meetings. Naturally, when the party decided to support Fisher, not me, I have curtailed my leadership ambitions. I accepted, at the time, the majority vote for him as leader, but times have changed. The world we knew then has gone forever."

"He did offer you the position of Australia's High Commissioner in London."

"And I turned it down," said Hughes. "I believe that I will play a greater role in the destiny of my country. I feel like a prophet from the olden times. I predict that one day the Pacific region will be a bustling hive of trade and commerce equal to the Mediterranean or the Atlantic. I have a vision of great civilisations prospering and trading. New industries will grow. New countries and alliances will emerge. Australia will be a regional power. When I went back to England a few years ago, I will never forget how indifferent I felt. I did not feel that I had come home. Australia is my home. When I returned, and the ship sailed into Sydney Harbour, I stood in the early dawn light, and knew this was my home. This great brown land fringed by green, from the swaying coconut palms of the far north to the red river gums of the mighty Murrumbidgee, and then south to the wild tip of Tasmania. I do not just talk it – I have seen it all. I've tramped across the outback."

He stopped and took a moment to compose himself. "My country in the hostile sea of Asia, surrounded by those who want what we have, gazing enviously at our vast open spaces and sweeping plains. We are a British outpost, forever holding up the beacon of freedom and democracy. We will eliminate Germany as a power in the region. This will leave the Empire of Japan and the British Empire to dominate the Pacific. On one side, the British Empire - encompassing India, Burma, Malaya, Hong Kong, Singapore, Australia and New Zealand. On the other side, the Empire of Japan, casting its greedy eyes on our wide-open spaces. Land enough for their teeming millions of peasants to farm and settle. I believe we are on a collision course. We have what the Japanese want – land – and they are determined to take it."

"Perhaps Andrew might decide to step down, if he feels he can't go on. But he has not hinted to me that he is ready to go."

"I doubt he would go willingly," said Hughes. "Unless, we were to offer him an inducement - such as the London posting. He would be suitable for that."

"I don't think we should be planning any changes to the leadership at the moment," said Pearce. "This is not the time."

"What if I were to challenge him for the leadership?"

"A vote on leadership may destabilise the government. We are asking the Australian people for sacrifices. We too must make sacrifices."

"This war will not be over quickly," said Hughes, prophetically. "Germany will not be easily defeated in Europe. We will be asking for enormous sacrifices from the Australian people. Fisher refuses to talk about conscription. However, without it, Australia will not make its full contribution. You know my support for conscription in this country. The sooner we introduce it the better, but Fisher refuses to discuss it."

"You know where I stand on conscription," replied Pearce. "But the party does not agree that civilians should be forced to fight. If you try to win the leadership based on your support for conscription, you will lose. Conscription is not party policy."

Before they could continue their discussion, Fisher returned.

"To conclude our discussion on the war against Germany in New Guinea, Senator, keep me informed of developments. A quick Australian victory early in the war will boost public support for the war. Instruct Colonel Holmes to bring the Germans to the peace table."

A few days after the capture of Rabaul, peace talks between Holmes and Dr. Haber took place at district headquarters in Kokopo. Holmes arrived flanked by his staff. He was in a good mood. He was in a commanding negotiating position. Before the meeting, he told his staff that his negotiation position was to conclude a quick peace and then get on with the task of seizing the rest of the former German colony.

"We have not come to burn, destroy, and sail away. We are here to occupy New Guinea for the duration of the war. My intention is to allow the German population to go about their business – as long as they take an oath of neutrality. When we have occupied all New Guinea, we will only need small garrisons to police the area. This will free up troops for the main theatre of war in Europe."

Later in the morning, Dr. Haber and Captain von Klewitz arrived on horseback. They rode by Australian troops lined up along the dusty road.

"Jeez, he's only a little bloke," Lawson whispered to Milne as Haber rode by.

"What did you expect, a giant?" muttered Milne. "See that bloke with him; that's von Klewitz. I saw him in Toma. An arrogant bastard if you ask me. Look at his fancy uniform. That reminds me, I haven't had a chance to tell you about my meeting with Freda, she told me all about your antics last year in Rabaul."

"Ah yes, the ravishing Freda, that Germanic siren, oh what memories I have of that time," said Lawson, in a faraway voice. "The first chance we get, we'll look her up."

"She invited me to visit her club," said Milne.

"What, you 'ave an invitation to visit her? You must 'ave impressed her in some way. Exactly what did you get up to in Toma?"

Milne could not wipe the smile off his face. "Not much, really."

"You two, they need a couple of extra hands for the negotiations," said Sergeant Plumpton.

They dutifully followed the bad tempered sergeant to the meeting room where Holmes and his staff were sitting at a large table. He ordered them to stand quietly in a corner and await further instructions.

A few minutes later, Haber and Klewitz, flanked by their staff, walked up the steps. Holmes met them at the entrance to the meeting room.

"Welcome Dr. Haber," began Holmes. "Come, sit down. You've put up a brave fight, but the outcome is that you have been defeated."

"You certainly have the advantage, Colonel Holmes," replied Haber. "I'm afraid we underestimated you. My military advisers told me your troops would not fight well in the jungle. We thought you would take our trenches head-on; instead, you outflanked our positions and attacked us from the rear. We thought the dense jungle gave us the advantage, but this was not the case. The native troops were very unreliable and ran off at the first opportunity."

"I do not agree with you about the value of your native troops," said Holmes, leaning back in his chair. "They put up a good fight at Bitapaka."

During these opening polite exchanges, Klewitz remained silent. Holmes' comments about the bravery of the New Guinean troops annoyed him.

"Useless, despite their training, they ran away...cowards, all of them," he retorted.

"You know," continued Holmes, ignoring Klewitz's outburst, "it surprises me that you had so few troops to defend the colony."

Haber nodded sadly. "What you say is true. With more troops at my disposal, the outcome would have been very different. We did not think that Australia would send a large force to occupy New Guinea. We thought you would destroy the wireless station, and then leave us alone for the rest of the war."

"A very weak strategy, in my opinion Dr. Haber," said Holmes. "Australia was never happy with the German colonisation of New Guinea. If you had a garrison of a thousand troops, we would have sent two thousand troops against you. The outcome would have been the same. The war provided us with a reason to set things right."

Haber shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, I suppose so. The speed of the Australian advance and capture of the Bitapaka wireless station undermined our confidence, but the German army is still intact, guarding the approaches to Toma."

"I would be interested, Dr. Haber, in why you did not contest our advance on Toma," enquired Holmes, searching Haber's face for a reaction.

Haber was not prepared to give anything away. He replied that von Klewitz had advised him that resistance would result in unnecessary bloodshed.

"My orderly reported to me that he suspected that you were trying to make a run for it," continued Holmes. Again he sat back to watch Haber's reaction.

Haber squirmed in his chair and for a moment, he was lost for words. "I must protest. I will agree that I had considered moving the government to the Baining Mountains. I realised, however, that this would only delay the inevitable. My envoy to your Colonel Watson informed me that you would pursue me wherever I went. From what I had seen of your leadership, you would have hunted me down." When all else fails, Haber decided, a bit of flattery goes a long way.

"I can assure you, Herr Haber, you would not have gotten far," Watson cut in, "further resistance by your troops would have resulted in your total defeat. My orders were to capture Toma and yourself, and I can assure you I would have done both."

"Any thought of a last stand, or a guerrilla campaign disappeared after you sent your army to capture Toma," said Haber. "I did not think you would march on our capital. I did not think you would send such a large force against me. You see, I have no artillery or machine guns."

"This is the first major defeat for Germany since the war began. It must be a terrible blow to you personally, Dr. Haber."

"On the contrary," said Haber. "In Germany it will be said that the British and Australians attacked us with overwhelming force and after a heroic but doomed fight, I was forced to surrender to avoid bloodshed."

"Be that as it may, Germany has lost her Pacific territories," concluded Holmes. "It is only a matter of time before the Japanese seize your Chinese territories."

"What you say certainly is correct, however, the war in Europe will go on. Germany may have sacrificed its Pacific colonies, but the fate of our territories in the Pacific and China will be decided by the war in Europe."

Holmes decided it was time to get down to negotiations. "The position here Dr. Haber is that I have issued a proclamation setting out the terms of surrender of German New Guinea. The terms I offer are generous. In return for your surrender of German New Guinea, I will safeguard the private property of peaceful inhabitants, and retain the services of certain German officials. It is within my power to impose unconditional surrender terms and intern all German officials, soldiers and civilians. My military forces occupy all strategic positions in and around Rabaul. Most of your senior officers are my prisoners, and I will make war on any who do not surrender."

"I appreciate your frankness on this matter. Nothing will be gained by unconditional surrender. If you were to allow the German colony to operate as it did before the war, this will ensure no disruption to business and trade. My government..."

"...has ceased to exist," declared Holmes. "You have very little negotiating power."

"Sir, you have already shown you are magnanimous in victory. The German civilians will not cause trouble. They will remain neutral, but their property and lives need protecting. There is a bigger issue here that I need to bring to your attention."

Holmes leaned forward expectantly.

Haber lowered his voice. "All my actions are dictated by our perilous position. There are worrying instances of the natives looting, burning and pillaging plantations. I fear that the war has weakened our authority, and anarchy will surely follow."

"I will guarantee the safety of the German population."

"My point is that many of the German soldiers are reservists. If they are held captive, they will be unable to defend their wives and children in the outer areas of the colony."

"I personally guarantee the lives and private property of peaceful inhabitants, and the laws and customs of the colony will remain in force so far as is consistent with the military situation. I will only requisition private property if the military situation demands it. It is not my intention to disrupt the commerce of the colony. All reservists who swear to remain neutral will be free to continue in their occupations."

"This is most generous. May I suggest that you pay those German officials you retain as advisers at their existing salaries? This will ensure that the transition to your administration will be smooth and will reassure the German civilians and the natives."

"I will need to consider this further. I expect all inhabitants to behave in a peaceful manner. All remaining German and native soldiers in the field are to surrender immediately and all firearms, ammunition, and war material in the possession or control of inhabitants are to be surrendered forthwith."

"I agree to most of these items," said Haber. "However, I would ask that German settlers living in the outer areas be allowed to keep essential firearms for protection of their families."

"This is out of the question," replied Holmes. "My soldiers will protect German civilians."

Haber reluctantly agreed.

"Finally, all public property of the former government is to be handed over to me immediately. That includes the treasury funds you buried. You will be good enough to provide me with the location of this treasure."

This request surprised Haber - he did not realise that Holmes knew about the treasury funds, which he had ordered his staff to bury at several locations. "Yes, the treasury funds are buried near Toma. I will order the funds be retrieved and will bring them here as soon as possible."

Holmes shook his head. "No, certainly not, I have ordered that a detachment of troops retrieves the funds. These funds will offset the cost of occupation. You will be good enough to provide me with a map marking the burial places. Please provide this to me before you leave today."

"Let me assure you it was always my intention to hand over all funds to you. You have my word on that."

Holmes nodded politely, but he had a knowing glint in his eye that unnerved Haber. As the afternoon wore on, the negotiations were starting to wear Haber down. He continually mopped his head with his handkerchief. Holmes was unflinching. Nothing seemed to faze him. He never lost the slight grin.

"I ask a favour of you if I may – that German military forces are granted military honours," said Haber.

"This is a ridiculous request," said Watson. "Other than a few skirmishes, we have yet to engage in a major battle. Sir, I am ready to lead an attack on Toma the moment you give the word."

Holmes said nothing and watched Haber's reaction.

"It would help me to convince the military forces to surrender," argued Haber. "As you know, my main force is guarding the approaches to Toma. I expect a large force of reinforcements has landed by now and is marching on Toma. If you grant them full military honours they will agree to come in and surrender without hesitation."

"Are you suggesting that without full military honours, German troops will resist?" said Watson furiously. "I will hunt them down one by one. I will defeat them all!"

"I am not sure I can agree to full military honours," said Holmes. As an afterthought, he added, "It makes little difference to the outcome. My objective is to secure the occupation of New Guinea as soon as possible. If I can achieve this without further delay, all the better."

"It will ensure a peaceful transition to your administration," added Haber. "It will mean an immediate end to hostilities. Think of it, an end to the fighting. Your government will be very pleased with you."

"The praise of government has little effect on me. I will need more time to consider this."

Haber looked relieved. "What will become of me? I am not a combatant so should not become a prisoner of war. Since I am no longer governor, I can't stay here. I would consider it an honour if you allowed me to return to Germany."

"I could have you deported to Australia for internment. However, as you are also a diplomat, I will allow you to return to Germany via Australia. I think this concludes our discussions for today."

Haber asked if he could take away the terms of surrender and consider them for a few days. Holmes allowed him one day to consider them. They agreed to meet in two days to finalise the surrender terms.

During the negotiations, Milne stood at attention at the back of the room listening to the discussion. He was not asked to do anything. He started to feel sorry for Haber and von Klewitz. How could they have hoped to win in the situation that faced them? His feeling of pity, if that was the right word, was mixed with his pride at being part of Australia's first successful military action of the war. As he listened to the discussion, he had never felt so proud to be Australian. Nor could he help but admire Holmes. The surrender terms proclaimed by Admiral Patey were his starting point and he stuck to them. He could have crushed Haber if he'd wanted. Instead, he showed patience and kindness. Holmes knew he had the upper hand, but chose to be merciful.

After the meeting broke up, he and Lawson returned to Rabaul where they joined a detachment to search houses for weapons.

The following day Haber and von Klewitz rode in from Toma to meet with Holmes. Haber signed the terms of surrender and was glad to be done with it. He returned to Toma, where he ordered all German and New Guinean troops in the field to surrender. Von Spee's Squadron fled the Pacific and made a run for South America.

Back in Rabaul, Freda had reopened the Black Cat, but customers were scarce. A few days later, she heard that Australian soldiers were searching houses for German soldiers, spies and weapons. There was a loud knocking at the door and a voice was calling on her to open up.

Freda was in her best dress and had fussed over her makeup and hair all morning. She opened the door, to reveal the grinning face of Private Lawson.

"Well, if it isn't Cliff Lawson," she said mockingly. "You've got a cheek showing your face around here after all the trouble you caused. Last time I saw you, you'd smashed my club up." She looked over his shoulder and saw Milne standing uncomfortably in the background. "Welcome, Private Milne, you are most welcome."

"Pardon me madam, we have orders to search all houses in the town for German soldiers, spies, and guns," said Lawson, adopting the tone of an officer.

"You won't find any German soldiers here," she said. "Since you Australians arrived, business has been slow. My two assistants, Mei and Asami, and I live here. You are most welcome to search the club and back rooms."

"Business madam, what sort of business do you run?" asked Milne, stepping through the door.

Inside, the club was not much bigger than a suburban lounge room. There were heavy velvet curtains on the front windows. Immediately inside the door in the corner were two small couches and an armchair set around a table. At the opposite end of the room was a small bar with shelves holding bottles and glasses. Several small round tables and chairs filled up the gap between the bar and the lounge area. In the other far corner was a small stage surrounded by chairs. Between the stage and the bar, a narrow corridor led to the bedrooms and storage rooms.

"We provide companionship for lonely soldiers and officials," she replied. "We sell good German beer and schnapps, play music, read books and talk about all manner of things. We provide a very good service at a good price."

Just at that moment, Mei and Asami appeared from the back of the house. Asami was barefoot and wore a white kimono. Her rich black hair flowed freely down to her shoulders framing her beautiful face. Mei was wearing a long silk dress. Milne stood with his mouth open, struck dumb by their exotic beauty.

Asami bowed. "Welcome Australian soldier."

He recognised her as the girl with the sad eyes and ghostly complexion he had met during the occupation of Rabaul several days before. Without her high wooden sandals, she was tiny. He could not believe that yet again fate had brought them together.

"Say hello to the ladies, Private Milne," said Lawson.

He bowed awkwardly, saluted, mumbled a few words, and looked down at his boots in confusion.

"This is just how I remember the club," said Lawson. "Come on Francis, let's search the premises. Now, you three lovely ladies sit down while we conduct our search."

They poked around the bar area and then entered the narrow corridor leading to the back rooms. "Here is the lovely Freda's room - just as it was when I was last here. You search Asami's room."

Milne stepped into a tiny room opposite Freda's room. A double bed covered by a silk bedcover with Japanese designs took up most of the room. There were Japanese drawings and paintings on the walls. A musical instrument that looked like a banjo with a long neck rested against the wall. He noted the orderliness and neatness of the room. The room smelled of exotic spices and perfumes. There were several kimonos hanging on a hook on the wall. A small pair of slippers lay neatly by the bed. He looked through a cupboard and peered under the bed.

"I am glad you came to see me," said a soft voice behind him. Asami was standing in the doorway.

"Pardon me...I didn't mean to pry," he said.

She walked into the room and sat on the bed. She leant back against a pile of cushions and tucked her legs under her.

"Sit by me," she said, pointing to a chair by the bed.

"Sorry, I must continue the search," he said.

He hurried out of her room. Continuing down the corridor, he found Lawson standing in a storeroom filled with kegs of beer, bottles of schnapps, and a still for distilling sly grog. Lawson had a big smile on his face. "This is a bit of all right, I'll say."

Milne had to drag him away to continue the search. The next room they came to was the kitchen, which was the largest room in the house. Lawson opened the back door, which led to a large garden. They searched a garden shed and walked to the back fence marking the end of Freda's property. Milne opened the back gate onto a dusty rough track, which led back to town.

After they had searched the premises, Freda invited them to sit down and rest after their arduous work. They sat on the lounge opposite Asami and Freda. Mei brought two tankards of beer.

"I'm afraid we're not permitted to drink on duty," said Milne.

"Oh please, I insist, it has been a long time since we entertained men here," said Freda. "It has been a very lonely time for us."

"I think it would be all right, but we can only have one drink," said Lawson, winking at Freda. "Mrs. Scholl, I did notice when I was searching your bedroom; there was a hollow sound when I tapped the wall. After this drink, I will ask you to accompany me to investigate this matter further. If you cooperate, I will make sure your premises are not searched again by other Australian soldiers."

Freda took Lawson by the arm and led him down the hallway to her bedroom. "I can assure that you will find nothing. Come, I will show you myself. Asami, you entertain Private Milne while we're gone."

Freda pushed the door open, walked to the middle of the bedroom and put her hands on her hips.

"So you decided to come back to me, Cliff."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to look you up old girl."

"I'm not your old girl," she said, her eyes flashing. "Why didn't you write to me?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well...you know how it is."

"You made promises about our future – and that was the last I saw of you."

"Cliff Lawson never makes a promise he intends to keep."

"But you have come back to me..."

"Yeah, what say we renew our acquaintance?"

He walked over to her and started undoing the buttons on her blouse.

"I reckon me little stint in Rabaul is gunna go by in no time with you and your beer cellar to keep me company."

Freda pushed his hand away. "Hands off, you're not getting anything until I know what your intentions are."

Lawson nearly choked. "My intentions! My intentions are that I'm fair champing at the bit to make love to my little Freda, I did miss you something awful."

He tried putting his arms around her again, but she pushed him away. "Unhand me you brute," she said with a little smile.

"All right, my intentions are honourable," he said. "I've thought of nothin' but you since I last saw youse, excepting them other women I went with back in Australia on account of I missed you so much, and I was lonely."

"So you've been with other women!"

"You should talk," he responded. "You're telling me you ain't been with other men since you last saw me?"

"Yes, of course I have, but that's how I make my living, you know that. I don't love the men that come to me. And they pay well."

She walked across the room and stood by the bed.

He walked over to her and said gently, "I really did miss my little Freda." He put his arms around her. This time she did not push him away. He kissed her on the neck.

"Come here you big brute," she said playfully. "What am I to do with you? I have to look out for myself. Now this war has come along. What will become of my girls and me? Half my customers have been deported to Australia, and the others are in fear of being arrested for breaking curfew."

"Francis and me will spend all our money and spare time here to keep you and Asami company. I'll look after youse. As soon as I am paid, I'll hand it over. Why don't you slip into something more comfortable?"

"You promise to look after me? What about the future, can I come to Australia with you?"

"Now steady on old girl. I'm 'ere for at least six months. At the end of that time we'll see, eh."

She walked behind a small screen, and a few minutes later reappeared wearing a short petticoat and stockings. Lawson nodded approvingly. She walked with swaying hips to the bed and lay down.

"Come here, you brute, and get what's coming to you," she said seductively.

Meanwhile in the lounge room, Milne made polite conversation. Both Mei and Asami smiled and nodded whenever he said anything. Mei spoke little, but Asami talked constantly, almost in a whisper. He smiled and took an occasional sip of his beer. Because he was nervous, he drank his beer faster than he normally would.

"My first name is Francis," he said to Asami. "Me Francis, me live in Sydney."

Asami giggled and uttered a stream of English, Japanese and German words. "My English is only a little."

"Your English is very good, better than my Japanese anyway," he said.

"You must help me learn English," she said.

"I'll teach you English if you teach me Japanese."

They chatted as if they were old friends. Asami told him about the little village near Yokohama where she was born. She said she missed her homeland and hoped to see it again. She spoke of the beauty of the Japanese countryside. A note of sadness crept into her voice as she remembered relatives and friends left behind and how much she missed them.

She bowed her head. "Now I shall never see my beautiful homeland again."

"The war in New Guinea will soon be over and Japan and Australia are allies. You could book a passage on a Japanese steamer."

She shook her head and said her father had died deeply in debt and she had to pay these off. He nodded – he remembered Lawson had told him about her tragic circumstances. When he asked her more questions about her life, she became evasive and changed the subject.

"When I was a little girl," she said, "there was a song my mother taught me to sing whenever I was sad or afraid. I will sing it for you."

She went to her room, returned with her shamisen, and sat opposite him. She plucked at the strings to tune it. Then she sang softly, and her eyes filled with tears.

Her song moved him even though he did not understand the words. When she had finished, he thanked her. She bowed and smiled.

"You see, now I am happy," she said, with tears running down her cheeks. She rarely smiled but when she did, her face glowed with joy and her eyes sparkled. He wished she smiled all the time.

He wondered what had happened to Lawson. He called out and asked him if everything was all right.

Lawson responded from the bedroom that everything was okay, and that he was searching the bedroom more thoroughly. He assured him that Freda was being most cooperative.

He reappeared with a satisfied smirk on his face, followed by Freda. "So how's me little mate gettin' on?"

"I think we should continue to search other houses," said Milne, "we'll put a sign on the door that we have searched this house, that way no other soldiers will bother you."

He stood up and thanked Asami for what he was not sure. He promised he would see her again, and uttered a stream of rambling mosaic thoughts that left her scrambling to understand what he was trying to say. He then marched out the door. Lawson followed him.

"You must come again soon," Freda called after them.

"You can be sure of that," Lawson called back.

They continued their search of houses and shops along the street. They walked down a street lined with teahouses and noddle shops. From every door wafted the exotic scents and smells of Asia. The friendly shopkeepers waved to them.

"So, what did you think of Asami?" asked Lawson.

Milne was silent at first. "A lovely girl." He lapsed into silence again, and nothing Lawson could say or do could get him to talk.

"Look mate, we got it sown up," said Lawson. "We got the best deal in town. So don't say nothin' to nobody. This will be our little secret."

They headed back to barracks. That night, try as he could, Francis Milne, an innocent abroad, could not get Asami out of his mind. He decided that no matter what, he would see her again and try to help her in any way he could.

After the peace talks concluded, Milne and Lawson joined a small expeditionary force to intercept German reinforcements, and retrieve the buried German treasury funds. The troops moved across the island at a slow pace to conserve their energy in the tropical heat. They took two bullock wagons to carry the treasure.

A tropical thunderstorm came down and it rained for two hours, turning the jungle tracks into rivers. When the rain stopped, and the sun came out, clouds of flies, mosquitos and other biting insects swarmed over them. The jungle dripped with moisture. The wheels of the bullock wagons became stuck in the mud, and the insects drove the oxen mad. Milne and Lawson, under the erratic command of Sergeant Plumpton, had the task of helping the bullock team push the wagons through the mud. Lawson did comical impersonations of Plumpton. Milne laughed so hard, he fell head first into the mud.

Plumpton told them to stop skylarking and put their backs into it. As he walked off, Lawson did an impersonation of him behind his back, which set the other soldiers off.

"I've got my eye on you, Lawson," he said, turning around. "Some might find your pranks amusing but they'll get you in hot water one day. Now get on with it."

The road to Toma sloped into the hills. They looked back over Simpson Harbour in the distance. After marching for several hours, they camped for the night in a jungle clearing. They soon had several campfires going to cook the evening meal. In the jungle, they heard drums and singing. Friendly villagers warned them to watch out for the Mokolkol, a nomadic clan of axe-wielding cannibal warriors who lived deep in the jungle.

Lawson was sitting by the campfire stirring a concoction in a pot, telling his listeners cannibal stories. The eerie jungle noises and shadows cast by the fires added to the atmosphere of dread.

"I don't believe all that nonsense about cannibals," said a young soldier. "It's a lot of bullshit to scare us."

"Cannibalism is practised in New Guinea by some tribes in remote areas," replied Lawson. "Cannibals believe that if you eat an enemy warrior you've killed in battle, you'll gain strength from 'is soul. Warriors from one tribe abduct men and boys, and sometimes women, from a tribe they are at war with and carry 'em off for eating. They tie 'em up, sometimes breakin' their legs with clubs to prevent them from escaping, and carry 'em back to their village. The poor victims are tied to trees watching as the feast is prepared."

"Beastly, horrible," said another soldier.

"When the prisoner is killed, his arms and legs are cut off first," continued Lawson, warming to his subject. "The meat is then cut up into small pieces, placed on skewers and cooked over fires. The whole tribe joins in the feast. If the victim is a young strong warrior, the muscular parts of 'is body is given to the warriors so that they can absorb the dead bloke's power and valour. A German missionary from New Ireland, not far from here, told me about a cannibal feast he saw. According to him, there was six corpses 'angin' by their necks from a tree. The natives made fires and boiled large pots of water. They cleaned the bodies and then cut 'em into small pieces. Each piece was wrapped in a banana leaf and put into ground ovens and covered over with hot stones."

"Let 'em eat each other," said the young soldier. "They wouldn't dare eat us."

"You're wrong there, mate," replied Lawson. "They prize our meat above all. Native meat is stringy, you see, while our meat is plump and juicy." He reached across and grabbed a roll of stomach fat on the young soldier.

"Now you see that? There are cannibals watching us in the jungle fair drooling over the thought of dining on such a plump morsel."

The young soldier pushed Lawson's hand away and laughed, but his eyes were full of fear.

"That's enough of that Lawson," ordered Plumpton, who had just come up. "All right lads, time to turn in for the night. We have an early start."

"I'm just telling it like it is Sarge," he replied. "There are recorded cases of cannibal tribes attacking and eating settlers."

Plumpton shook his head, and told them not to listen to Lawson's stories. He walked into the jungle to relieve himself.

Lawson whispered to Milne that he would play a joke on Plumpton to teach him a lesson. The other soldiers heard what he said and waited to see what he was going to do.

Lawson and Milne crept into the jungle. They saw Plumpton sitting on a fallen tree trunk with his trousers around his ankles. Lawson crept up behind him and putting his hand on his shoulder, he let out a blood-curdling cry. Plumpton leapt up and took off back to camp with his trousers around his ankles. He tripped and rolled into the camp shouting that they were under attack. Lawson crept back to camp and pretended to be sympathetic. He and a couple of soldiers strolled into the jungle to hunt for hostile natives. He led them behind a tree where they doubled up with laughter.

When they returned to camp, an officer was talking to Plumpton who looked embarrassed.

"Anything to report, Private Lawson?" asked the officer.

"Sir, from the tracks, I'd say some savages tried to grab the sergeant here. Luckily, his screaming scared 'em off."

"Sir, I wasn't screaming - I was raising the alarm," he replied.

"Good, all settled then, righto, carry on, and keep an eye out you blokes. Good night."

They unrolled their blankets and lay around the fire. Plumpton called Lawson over. "If I find out you had anything to do with that little prank, I'll have your guts for garters. You got that?"

Lawson saluted and returned to the group.

It seemed to Milne that every jungle sound might be a fierce warrior with a long axe waiting for the right moment to strike. He imagined he saw shadowy figures in the jungle watching them. He squinted into the gloom trying to determine if the dark shapes were animals or warriors creeping up to the camp. Hearing a twig snap, he got to his feet and peered into the darkness.

"I think there's someone out there," he said, shaking Lawson.

"Can't you see I'm asleep," he protested. He stood next to Milne and peered into the gloom. "You're imagining things. I don't see nothing. Get some sleep for Christ's sake."

Milne was sure he could see dark shapes in the jungle. He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Despite his fears, he struggled to stay awake. He dozed off for a few hours until Lawson rudely shook him. "Come on lad, let's 'ave youse," he said, imitating Plumpton. Milne could barely move his arms after his exertions of the previous day. He stood up and walked around, waving his arms up and down to get the circulation flowing again. He and Lawson walked into the surrounding jungle, which was shrouded in mist. They saw footprints and other signs of activity near the camp, and reported their findings to an officer. He ordered the troops to be on alert.

After breakfast, the expedition set off again and marched through Toma, the last outpost of European settlement - beyond the town, the jungle was denser, and the country more difficult to move through. They pressed into the wild interior heading for the country around the village of Taulil searching for buried treasure. The country was steep and treacherous. In some places, they had to manhandle the bullock wagons up rocky steep hills and down steep ravines. That evening they camped in a narrow jungle clearing. The jungle formed a wall of green around them.

Not long after they settled down for the night, the rains came. It rained for more than an hour. No one got much sleep. Next morning they were all weary. They packed up and continued the journey, marching deeper and deeper into the dense jungle.

The officers decided to send patrols out in different directions in search of the treasure. Lawson and Milne found themselves under the command of Sergeant Plumpton, who was determined to knock them into shape. Plumpton decided that the Germans probably buried the treasure in the deepest part of the jungle. He found a narrow jungle track used by the locals, and headed into the unknown. The track was overgrown and they had to cut their way through with machetes. Plumpton urged them on to the point where Lawson wanted to bury his machete in his head.

After fighting their way through the jungle for an hour, they came across a group of New Guineans heading towards Toma. Plumpton held up his hand and called them over. "You savvy, speakem English?" he asked. "Yes, I understand English as good as you," replied the New Guinean. It turned out he had lived in Queensland for several years working on the cane fields. He did not know anything about the buried treasure, but he had seen a party of German troops camping nearby.

They pushed on into the depths of the jungle. The dense trees and vines blocked out the sun. The whole time the patrol moved through the jungle, Milne could feel eyes watching him. Sometimes he imagined he saw a person, but when he stopped and looked harder, the shadow would disappear like an apparition. They were just rounding a clump of trees when they saw a group of German and native soldiers coming towards them. The Germans saw them and fell back into the surrounding jungle.

"After 'em," shouted Plumpton.

Now for the chase! Lawson and Milne raced ahead. Plumpton trotted behind at a slower pace urging them to 'shoot the dogs down.' The Germans ran into a strand of trees, and opened fire. Bullets whizzed over their heads as they galloped in pursuit.

"That was close," laughed Milne, as a bullet shot passed his ear. "Quick over there, the Germans are moving into a defensive line. Hands up and throw down your rifles!"

The German and New Guinean troops hesitated long enough for Milne and Lawson to get amongst them. They surrendered and fell on the ground exhausted. Plumpton arrived to oversee the collection of rifles, and to take the credit for capturing them. The prisoners readily admitted they were a scouting party for a larger force.

They returned to the main force with their prisoners, and reported that a larger force of German soldiers was coming down the track.

An ambush was set up on both sides of the narrow track. They waited in the dripping jungle, trying not to make a sound. Just as the Germans rounded a bend, an officer stepped out of the jungle, pointed his pistol at the leading German officer, and called on him to surrender. Australian soldiers on both sides of the track pointed their guns through the foliage.

The Germans were so startled that they dropped their guns and surrendered. Their weapons were loaded on the bullock wagons, and the dejected prisoners taken in tow under armed guard.

"Hey Fritz," said Lawson to one of the prisoners, "how much would you take for that watch you're wearin'?"

The prisoner put his hand over his watch. "My name is Kurt, and this watch is not for sale."

Milne, who overheard the conversation, took Lawson aside. He told him they were not to interfere with the prisoners or take their property. Lawson replied that he was not taking his property, but offering to pay for it.

"Anyways," said Lawson, "are you a bloody officer or something?"

"Well, if you were captured, you'd expect to be treated with decency."

"You know, Milne, your holier than thou attitude gets up my nose sometimes."

"Even in war we must behave in a moral way towards our enemy."

"You little prick; I'll give you a bloody moral way."

Just as Lawson was about to take a swing at him, an older soldier behind them stepped in. "Listen you two, knock it off or I'll bloody bang your heads together."

Further along the track, they found the first of three places marked on the map for the buried treasure. Plumpton gave them a shovel each and told them to get digging. He sat under a tree smoking his pipe.

After they removed a few spadeful's of earth, they hit a large wooden chest. They dug up the treasure and loaded it on one of the bullock wagons. Later that afternoon, the second buried treasure site was located, and again a large wooden chest was extracted without much effort.

The expedition camped for the night.

The next morning, the weary troops broke camp early and set off in search of the last buried treasure chest. As they entered a jungle clearing, they came upon a most curious sight - there was Dr. Haber sitting on a camp chair supervising the excavation of the final treasure chest. Next to him was his sidekick, Weber.

When Haber looked up and beheld a large force of armed Australians advancing on him, he was lost for words. He looked guiltily at the advancing party.

"Ah gentlemen," he began, "I ordered the treasure to be dug up so you could load it immediately and take it back to your commander."

Lawson walked over to Weber and said, "Here Fritz, you wasn't plannin' on nicking the treasure and buggering off were youse?"

"Pardon me, how dare you imply that we would do such a thing. Dr. Haber was assisting in retrieving the funds to hand over to you."

Haber stood watching forlornly as the treasure was loaded onto the bullock wagons.

After they secured the treasure, Milne and Lawson returned immediately to Kokopo, where they were to take part in the surrender ceremony of German forces. With Sergeant Plumpton in command, they set off at a cracking pace, marching through the night.

All that hot windless morning, Milne stood at ease on the dusty Kokopo road. He had marched through the night to take up his position. Flies buzzed around his head, occasionally landing on his lips trying to suck the moisture. He cursed and brushed a persistent fly away.

He glanced along the rows of soldiers. The cool circle of shade cast by a huge tree had receded and only shaded those soldiers standing further back from the road. He wished he were standing in the third line. The sweat trickled down his face and neck. Next to him, Lawson looked like he had fallen asleep. He gave him a gentle nudge. His eyes shot open and he turned to Milne, who gestured up the road. In the distance, they saw a cloud of dust blowing down the road. As the dust cloud came nearer, he recognised von Klewitz on horseback at the head of his troops. They were coming in from the field to surrender, marching in perfect military formation. He did not think they looked like a defeated army.

As Klewitz drew abreast of a group of senior Australian officers, they saluted him. He briskly saluted in return. The Germans and their allies laid down their arms and formed up under the shade of a tree.

Lawson stifled a yawn. "Well old mate, that was a bit of excitement, but from now on its garrison duty and guarding buildings. We've beaten the Germans, now we get to sit it out until we go back 'ome at the end of the year."

"Any chance we get, we volunteer for missions," said Milne. "New Guinea is more than Rabaul. We'll have to occupy all the major centres of administration and take German officials and soldiers prisoner."

"Yeah, the trick is not to end up on some godforsaken island guarding a coconut tree," joked Lawson. "I wouldn't want to be away from my little Freda, and you want to be near Asami."

"You two!" barked Plumpton. "Don't just stand there you useless buggers, go over and guard the prisoners. We're taking 'em down to the jetty for transport to Rabaul. Come on, get a move on."

They saluted and marched off towards the prisoners standing under the tree.

"I have heard Australia is very nice country and we will be well looked after," said a German prisoner to Milne.

"Not where you're goin' mate," said Lawson. "You're being sent to the outback to herd dingos. Mate, the heat would melt a bronze statue."

The gullible prisoner looked worried, and turned to his friend, an older soldier. They spoke in German for a few minutes.

"Pardon me sir, what are dingos?"

"They're wild Aussie dogs, like wolves, excepting they're bigger and fiercer. In Australia we milk 'em."

The worried prisoner turned to his friend again. After a brief conversation in German, the gullible prisoner laughed.

He turned to Lawson and said, "My friend says you Australians are always pulling the leg..."

"Careful there Fritz," said Lawson, "you shouldn't accuse Aussies of being wankers."

The prisoner looked confused and again turned to his friend to interpret. They both laughed.

Plumpton came storming up. "What's going on here? Milne and Lawson, you're not supposed to fraternise with the prisoners. I'll have you both on report faster than... faster than..."

"A rat down a drainpipe?" suggested Lawson.

"Right, that's it, you're on report Lawson. Now keep quiet for the rest of the trip."

They marched their prisoners to the wharf and transported them to Rabaul.

Back in Rabaul, Milne heard that an expedition led by Holmes had left the day before to capture Madang, the major town and port on the main island of New Guinea.

A few days later, he and Lawson stood on Rabaul wharf, and watched as the expedition returned triumphant.

Later in the barracks, a soldier told them about the capture of Madang. "When we steamed into Madang harbour, we thought we'd arrived in paradise. We rushed to the side of the ship to look, as if we were on a tour. We couldn't believe the tropical beauty of the coast around Madang. Friendly locals in canoes paddled out to meet us and offered us tropical fruit and fish."

"The German troops and officials in Madang surrendered immediately," said another soldier. "We held a ceremony in the centre of Madang to mark the capture of New Guinea. We lined up on three sides and German residents gathered on the other side. Holmes stood on an ammunition crate with canvas draped over it and read out the surrender terms. We hauled down the German flag and raised our flag. Some of the Germans bowed their heads and wept. We all gave a mighty three cheers."

"There was a rumour that the Germans were planning to bring in reinforcements and retake Madang," said the first soldier. "So we patrolled the area around Madang. It fair gave me the creeps. A few feet from the edge of town, the jungle starts. I tell you, a few steps in and it was black as night. Giant creepers strangle the trees, and the trees tower so high you can't see the tops. We formed a perimeter defence around Madang, but the attack never came. Next morning we re-embarked on the _Berrima_ and here we are. I'm glad I wasn't part of the garrison that stayed in Madang. Give me Rabaul any day."

"We're doing all right, eh," said Milne proudly. "The riches of New Guinea are ours."

Lawson shook his head. "Yeah, but we got to run this country now, and that won't be so easy. There are hundreds of clans in New Guinea, and each speaks a different lingo to the next. The German government does not exist. Now we 'ave to set up our own government. No more fighting, boys, we pick up our pens and do government work."

Although Milne was pleased that he had been part of Australia's first successful military expedition of the war, he was worried that he would miss other opportunities. He had heard rumours that Australian troops would soon be shipping out for the war in Europe. He wanted to be there, but he had signed on for a six-month stint, as they all had, to serve in New Guinea.

"When the government sent us to take New Guinea," continued Lawson. "They didn't think ahead. We've gained all this new territory - now we have to rule it. I reckon what old Holmes will do is to get his officers to run it like it was part of the army. I heard some officers talking, and they reckoned that the Germans will be allowed to stay on their plantations, as long they behave themselves."

Milne walked over to his bunk and lay down. He put his hands behind his head and sighed. Lawson lay on his bunk next to him.

"I would like to see Asami soon."

Lawson smiled. "Sort of like her, eh, mate?"

He nodded and closed his eyes.

The following day, Milne was on guard duty outside Government House in Namanula. The only thing he liked about guard duty was that he could go into a trance-like state – while still being alert to what was going on around him. He was pleased that he had this ability – otherwise he would be bored. His mind wandered all over the place – but always back to Asami. There was something stirring deep inside him. The attraction was not sexual - he did not feel desire or lust for her. He just wanted to be with her. The afternoon wore on. The heat lay like a wet blanket over Rabaul. Because Namanula sat on a hill, the humidity was not quite as draining. Occasionally, officers arrived or departed. He and the other guard looked them over and saluted.

He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to go. The relief guards arrived, and he walked back to barracks.

Lawson was just waking up. He had been out all night searching the hills around Rabaul for German spies. Sentries had seen lights flashing in the hills the night before and they suspected that spies might be sending signals to von Spee's fleet. An officer had ordered Sergeant Plumpton to lead a squad to search the hills. Lawson yawned. "What a bloody waste of a night that was. We spent most of the night lost in the mountains. Plumpton reckons that the colonists are plotting to overthrow us. He accused German missionaries of spying on us and passing military secrets to German agents. He reckons that the missionaries have secret stores of arms, and have established a system of signals by wireless, telephones and lamps. He just about drove us bloody mad."

"Old Fred broke his leg," added another soldier, "he got lost on the mountain and fell into an 'ole."

Lawson shook his head. "The Germans don't want no trouble. They just want to run their plantations."

"I wouldn't be too sure," said another soldier. "I was on sentry duty a couple of days ago and we stopped a native bloke carrying a basket of papaws. We searched 'is basket and found two pistols and ammunition. He told us he'd been asked by a missionary to deliver the basket to a German bloke. A squad of soldiers raided the house and arrested him."

"I wouldn't trust any of 'em," said an older soldier. "I heard that the settlers are telling the natives that Germany will win the war and that they shouldn't help us. They told the natives that we will sail away, and the Germans will be back in charge."

"Hearsay mate, nothing but hearsay," replied Lawson.

"Don't come the bloody raw prawn with me," said the older soldier. "I heard that you smashed up a German club the other day because a couple of drunks jeered at you."

"That was different. We was marching through Rabaul on the way back from patrol, and some Germans called out to us that they would win the war. They insulted Australian manhood. So a group of us taught them a lesson and smashed up their club. They tried to barricade the doors - we broke in and dragged 'em out and made 'em stand at attention while we sang patriotic songs."

Milne signalled to Lawson that he wanted a word with him. Lawson walked over to him.

"We've been assigned to patrol Chinatown for the next week. I thought we might see Freda and Asami while we were at it."

He admitted to Lawson that he was in love with Asami and wanted to see her.

In the gathering dusk, they headed for Chinatown. The cafes, hotels and clubs were full of Australian soldiers eating and drinking. The streets were busy with shopkeepers selling their wares and merchants scurrying back from the wharf after trading in the islands.

They arrived at the Black Cat.

"I knew you two would be back, can't resist us can you boys?" said Freda, opening the door. "Come on in."

There were two German civilians sitting at the bar. Lawson pointed to the back door and they made a hasty exit.

"There go our only customers," said Freda, "I hope you boys have money to spend. Asami, come on, we have guests."

Asami entered the lounge room. She smiled, bowed, and stood next to Freda, facing Milne.

"So where have our two warriors been this time?" asked Freda.

"We've been digging up buried treasure in the outback, or whatever you call it in New Guinea," replied Lawson. "You look glamorous tonight Freda. Two beers and hurry up woman, me throat's drier than a wombat's bum."

Freda rolled her eyes, left, and came back with two foaming mugs of beer, which she placed on the table.

Milne took a sip, pulled a face, and said he did not like the taste. He asked Asami if she would step outside for some fresh air. She agreed and they walked onto the deep veranda. The night was cool and a sea breeze carried the fragrance of frangipani and bougainvillea. He invited her to sit in the cane armchair while he sat on a wooden bench resting against the wall. He moved along the bench closer to her. "I thought about you when I was away."

Asami turned and looked into his eyes. She tilted her head a little towards him. "Do you like me?"

"Yes, I like being with you. You are so beautiful, and kind and I like the way you speak, and the way you laugh. I'm in love with you Asami. Ever since the first time I saw you. I think about you all the time. I want to get to know you better. You have told me little about yourself. Now you must tell me your whole story."

She stood up and walked to the low wooden railing along the veranda. He stood beside her and moved closer until their arms touched.

"There is nothing to tell," she said.

"I'll tell you about my life then."

He talked about the school he went to, the Sydney suburb he lived in, the church he went to every Sunday. He told her she would love Australia. He decided to take a leaf out of Lawson's book and told her about the expedition he had been on; digging up buried treasure, the joke Lawson played on Plumpton, the imaginary axe-wielding cannibals, the fight with the German reinforcements – he exaggerated every detail.

"Oh, you must have been very scared," she said, putting her hand on his arm.

"Not at all," he replied bravely. "Nothing scares me."

This put her at ease. She talked about her childhood roaming rural Japan with a troupe of musicians and entertainers. She laughed as she told him about some of her experiences. When she laughed, her face lost its sadness for a few moments. She spoke of her recent life and picked up the story about how she had to work for Wang to pay off her father's debts. At first, she said Wang employed her as a servant in one of his brothels. Then he demanded more from her.

"I was alone," she said tearfully, "with no means of support and no money to return home. I can say no more, it is too hard for me."

He urged her to unburden herself. After hesitating for a few minutes, she told him about her experiences in Wang's brothel. She said that as the months went by, she became hard and indifferent to the world around her. She accepted that this was her lot in life. Soon, she reasoned, she would save enough money and buy her way out. When she moved to the Black Cat, Freda looked after her, and her life was better. Any customers who misbehaved at the Cat found themselves on the receiving end of Freda's anger. Asami served drinks, played her shamisen, sang and listened to customers stories. After the bar closed, the men would go to her room.

When she had finished her story, he hugged her. "You have been through so much," he said. "I respect you, Asami."

Before she could reply, Lawson stuck his head out the front door and said they should head back to barracks.

As they walked back, Milne seethed at the thought of Asami's enslavement at the hands of Wang. Already, he was thinking about how he might free her.

While he was musing on how to rescue Asami, the Australian navy intercepted a message from Dr. Haber's yacht SMS _Komet_ to von Spee reporting on Australian troop and ship movements.

The _Komet_ was a coal-powered steamer used by Haber for inter-island travel. The _Komet_ was capable of sinking smaller Australian vessels, and of transporting guns, supplies, and soldiers around the Pacific. When war broke out, the captain hid the _Komet_ up the coast from Rabaul to avoid capture.

Haber, who was under house arrest pending his return to Germany via Australia, should have handed over the _Komet_ as part of the peace agreement. Holmes sent for him to demand an explanation. While he was waiting, he ordered his officers to find a vessel to capture or sink the _Komet_. A search of the harbour turned up the _Nusa_ , a former German vessel about the same size as the _Komet_. The vessel was renamed the HMAS _Nusa_ , and was prepared to track down and destroy the _Komet_.

Haber arrived to see Holmes. If he was concerned about the hasty summons, he hid it well. He was anxious to return to Germany and had tried to keep out of trouble. Holmes demanded to know why he had not mentioned the existence of the _Komet_ during the peace talks. Haber explained that von Spee had requisitioned the vessel, and hence it was no longer government property and therefore not part of the surrender agreement. He claimed that he had mentioned this at the time of the surrender.

Holmes was not impressed with his response. "I have a report from Admiral Patey that the _Komet_ is sending messages to von Spee about Australian troop and ship movements. I find this most disturbing."

"I can assure you I had nothing to do with these messages. I gave my word of honour as a gentleman that I would be neutral and in return, I would be allowed to return to Germany."

"Have you recently sent messages to von Spee?" he persisted.

"I can assure you I know nothing about any messages. I agreed not to take part in any further hostilities, and I have kept my word."

"I am not accusing you personally of sending messages. My point is that you should have handed over the _Komet_ at the time of surrender."

"It was not my intention to hide the _Komet_ from you...in the confusion...it slipped my mind...events moved very quickly..."

"I have a report that the _Komet_ is concealed on the coast north of Rabaul. What have you to say to that?"

"I am not aware of the whereabouts of the _Komet_."

"Thank you, Dr. Haber, that is all for now. You can return to your quarters. I will summon you again if necessary."

"If I might ask a favour of you," said Haber meekly, "could you inform me when I will be returning to the Fatherland?"

Holmes glanced at him impatiently. "In good time - when a ship is available."

"You see, I am very anxious to return home."

"That will be all for now, Dr. Haber. You will be informed in due course."

Holmes was not convinced of Haber's innocence and decided that the sooner he expelled him from New Guinea the better.

They met once more before he returned to Germany. Haber said he wished they had met under different circumstances. "I believe you to be an honourable and fair man. If ever you come to Germany, I will welcome you as my guest."

"I do intend to go to Germany one day," replied Holmes, "as part of the victorious Allied army marching on Berlin."

A week later, the authorities deported Haber to Australia. He returned to Germany via the United States, the following year.

In early October, HMAS _Nusa_ set out to capture the _Komet_.

Milne volunteered for the expedition. Holmes recruited the Japanese shipbuilder and plantation owner, Isokichi Komine, as a guide. He was familiar with the surrounding islands and sea and he was on friendly terms with the clans living in the area where he suspected the Germans were hiding the vessel.

An officer assigned Milne to look after Komine, and they quickly became friends. On the first night, they sat on deck talking. He asked Komine to tell him about Japan and the Japanese. He sat staring into the dark sea, the vessel gently rocking on the swell, as Komine told him about the Samurai, great emperors, the attempt by Kublai Khan to invade Japan, and the 'Divine Wind' which destroyed the Mongol invasion fleet. Komine also talked a little about himself. He told Milne how he had left Japan when he was a young man and had settled on Thursday Island, Queensland.

"I wanted adventure in those days," he said, looking out to sea. "I was young and there was a world to explore and discover. I headed into the Pacific and arrived in paradise - Thursday Island where many Japanese had settled. I worked as a pearl diver and vessel operator. Later, I owned a boat-building yard. They were good days."

"How did you end up in New Guinea?"

"I explored the New Guinea coast using Thursday Island as a base. I was warmly welcomed in Rabaul by German colonial officials. However, Australia is where I wanted to live. I applied to become an Australian citizen but your government rejected me, so I settled in New Guinea where I was welcomed. In time, I expanded my business to include farming, shipbuilding, retail and overseas trade, and timber milling. I now own plantations on Manus, Los Negros and Rambutjo islands. I have brought out many Japanese to work in my shipyard and plantations."

Milne told him he had fallen in love with Asami and he planned to rescue her from Wang's wicked clutches.

Komine was startled. "I admire your determination young man, but Wang is a very dangerous man - he employs thugs to protect his criminal activities. He will stop at nothing to protect his interests. Be very wary, for I fear it may end badly for you and Asami."

Milne was not listening - the idea of saving her from Wang consumed him. "I'll deal with Wang. You see I'm in love with Asami. I can't bear the thought of her being mistreated by him. I want to take her away from him. She could live with me in Australia. I will earn good money and look after her."

"You may find that difficult. Your country does not welcome Japanese or Asian immigrants. You would not be able to take her home with you."

"I shall live in Rabaul with Asami, I will never go home. I could work for you, Mr. Komine."

"Come and visit me at my shipyard in Rabaul. We will talk some more. I must get some sleep; I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Milne remained on deck. Talking about Asami made him recall his last conversation with her. Their chat on the veranda that night was still alive in his memory. That he loved her, he did not doubt. He admitted to himself that he did not like what she did to earn money. The thought of those men having sex with her drove him into a rage. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. 'I'll beat them all up' _,_ he whispered to himself. He had promised her he was going to save her from her wretched life but he had not come up with a plan to bring this about. He had a vague idea of taking her home with him, but realised this might not be possible.

At first light, the _Nusa_ weighed anchor in a heavy fog.

They sighted the _Komet_ anchored off Talasea. Because of the dense fog, the German crew did not see the _Nusa_ silently approaching, engines at half speed. They steamed towards the enemy and positioned the _Nusa_ broadside, ready to open fire if the German crew resisted.

Milne could clearly see the powerful cannon mounted on the _Komet_ ' _s_ fore bridge. The soldiers and sailors held their weapons tighter. He took Komine by the arm and drew him away from the side of the vessel in case a shooting match erupted.

They lowered a rowing boat over the side and slid towards the _Komet_ with muffled oars. Before the Germans had time to react, they scrambled on board and seized the deck. The German captain rushed on deck in his pyjamas, his face half-shaved, and promptly surrendered.

Milne intercepted a German sailor making for the cannon. "I wouldn't advise that mate," he said, pointing his rifle at his head. The sailor thought better of it and surrendered.

Their prize taken, they steamed back to Rabaul triumphantly.

The sight of the _Nusa_ sailing into Simpson Harbour with the _Komet_ in tow caused a sensation in Rabaul. Australian soldiers down on the wharf cheered themselves hoarse.

Holmes arranged a banquet at Government House to celebrate the capture of the _Komet_. He invited Komine as a special guest.

That evening, Holmes sent his car to pick up Komine as the guest of honour. He arrived with souvenirs from the _Komet_ to show Holmes. He proudly displayed the _Komet_ 's flag, documents and a portrait of the Kaiser taken from the captain's cabin. Komine's elegant wife Cho, who wore a traditional kimono, accompanied him. All the army and naval officers wore white uniforms.

Holmes proposed a toast to the capture of the _Komet_ , the victory over Germany, and the alliance between Australia and Japan. He announced that he would make Komine an honorary captain in the Australian army.

The following morning, Holmes reported the capture of the _Komet_ to Senator Pearce, recommending that the vessel should be armed and commissioned into the Royal Australian Navy, as HMAS _Una_.

### Chapter 5

After the _Komet_ expedition, Milne re-joined his mates at the barracks. He, Lawson and several others were sitting on their bunks talking while another group played cards at a table.

"So anything happen while I was gone?" asked Milne.

"Yeah, we've added New Ireland to our conquests," said a young soldier. "I never even heard of New Ireland till now. I was with the expedition when we captured it."

"At this rate, we'll have a bigger empire than the Germans," said Milne.

"That's the last thing we want," said one of the card players. "Australia's big enough for us; we don't need to go messing about in other countries. We don't want to end up ruling a bunch of foreigners. Let 'em look after themselves I say."

"Well, we're here mate and we're not gunna give up what we've won – if we leave, the Germans will be back in no time," said Lawson.

"Let 'em have New Guinea, I say," responded the card player.

"You wouldn't know your arse from your elbow," said Lawson, to hoots of laughter.

The card player, a tough character with a mean streak leapt up from the table scattering cards everywhere. "I've had enough of your bloody nonsense." He shaped up for a fight. Another man might have backed down, but Lawson came out of his corner spoiling for a fight. They shaped up and danced around.

"You're about to get the bloody hiding of a lifetime, you bloody ponce," said Lawson, dancing nimbly around the card player.

"You're the one what's going to get a hiding, you bloody ugly baboon," said the card player. He did an equally comical dance. "I was the boxing champion at school; you're for it you long streak of pelican shit."

"Ugly baboon am I? Pelican shit am I? Now you're really for it, you fat arsed ape, you bloody drongo!"

They went at it in a flurry of fists but neither landed a blow.

"Look out, an officer is coming," shouted a soldier near the door.

They all struck innocent poses as the officer entered. "Everything in order, keep down the noise..." As soon as he left, the card player wanted to go on with it but a couple of soldiers told him to forget it.

The soldier who was telling them about New Ireland continued his story. "As I was saying, it's a nice little island. The Germans surrendered to us when we arrived in the main port, Kavieng. After we garrisoned the town, we went in search of the German steamer, _Siar_. We were edging along the coast when we spotted it along with two smaller vessels anchored off shore. The crews were on the island having breakfast. When they saw us approaching, they scrambled to their boats and rowed as if the devil was after 'em. They weren't fast enough. We seized the _Siar_ and the two smaller vessels and towed them back to Kavieng. We left a garrison behind and returned to Rabaul with the captured vessels."

Before Lawson and the card player could start up again, Milne grabbed his arm and dragged him out for a walk to cool down.

"That little runt, I'll smash 'im harder next time," said Lawson.

Milne told him he wanted to visit Asami at the Black Cat.

"Ah, so that's it, you're hoping to see your little Japanese sheila again."

"Can you be serious for a moment? I want to talk to you about Asami. You're a man of the world."

"It's true, my friend, I know all about the female of the species," he said. "Now you take Freda. She's a woman who knows a thing or two. Here she is stuck in Rabaul with no husband. Instead of sitting around crying about it, she sets up a business where the men are queuing up for her favours."

"How do you know when you're in love?" asked Milne.

"Please don't tell me you're in love with Asami. You've only talked to her a few times. You know what she is. You can't be serious."

"I won't have you saying anything nasty about my future wife."

"Wife! You barely know her. Come on wake up, mate. Bloody hell, the heat must 'ave boiled yer brain. You don't know nothin' about her. Look, you've never been in love before, right. So don't fall in love with the first woman that comes along. You gotta keep practicing so you get better at it."

"You don't understand. I'm in love, and I want to take her back to Australia with me. She wants to escape from Wang who has enslaved her. All I have to do is talk to Wang, he'll release her, and I can take her to Australia with me."

"Will you listen to yourself, mate? You reckon you're gunna take her back to Australia. I can just hear it – 'pardon me Holmes old chap - I've fallen in love with a Japanese prostitute. Can I take her back to Australia with me?' Lawson did an imitation of Holmes' voice, 'Certainly lad, we'll just bung her in the ship's hold, no worries'."

Milne ignored Lawson's comments. "I'm going to need your help. Asami is a fallen woman. She's fallen into the clutches of Wang who won't let her go. If you won't help me, you're no mate of mine."

"So, you're her knight in shining armour is that it? You're gonna slay the evil Wang and carry her off and live happily ever after. What are you planning to do, anyways?"

"I'm still thinking. I'd like to bust Wang's head and free her. Then we can run away together."

"Look mate, you're the level 'eaded one, the bank clerk who thinks things out...it's me that does the mad stuff. A few months ago the most exciting thing you done was to count money. Now you're running around town threatening to bash Wang. You need to think this out."

Milne was adamant. "I've never been clearer about anything in my life. Asami is the one for me. We will be together. I don't know how - but we will. I love her for all eternity. I don't care where she's from or what her past is. I know what I have to do."

Later that morning, they headed for the Black Cat. Freda met them at the door and they walked into the bar. As they entered, a couple of men were leaving. They winked at Lawson and Milne as they left. Asami appeared from her room at the back of the house. She was wearing a flimsy silk housecoat. Milne did not know where to look.

Asami put her finger to her lips, took his hand, and led him to her room. Milne looked back at Lawson who grinned broadly as if to say, 'You're on a winner there mate, go for it.'

Asami sat on the bed, and invited him to sit on the only chair in the tiny room.

"I am glad to see you very much," she said.

"I am glad also...too," he stammered. "Asami, I want to talk to you and it is not easy. I'm in love with you."

"You must forget me," she said. "You're a young man with your life in front of you. In a few months, you will return to Australia. You will forget me."

"No, I will not leave you. I'm going to talk to Wang and make him see reason. I will rescue you from this horrible life you're living."

"There is no way out."

"No, you don't have to live like this. All these men pawing you like animals. It makes me sick just to think of it. There must be a way to escape this life."

"Only through death do we escape life. I will come back and have a better life in my next incarnation."

He could not understand how she could think the way she did. Then he did something completely out of character. He sat next to her on the bed, leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.

She put her hand to her mouth and smiled. "I did not expect that."

"I've wanted to do that since I met you."

She leaned forward and kissed him in return. They fell into each other's arms.

"Asami, I love you more than anything. You are my light, my hope, my future. I think about you all the time. I see your face before I go to sleep. You're the first thing I think of when I wake. War has brought us together, but keeps us apart."

She buried her head in his chest.

"I don't believe it," he heard Lawson shout from the lounge room. "It's bloody Sergeant Plumpton snooping around."

Milne leapt to his feet, and rushed to the front window. Lawson was hiding behind the curtain peering out. Milne saw Plumpton lurking about in the street at the front of the Black Cat. He watched him walk up and down the street and then disappear.

"If he catches us here, we're in for it," said Lawson.

Milne went back to the bedroom. Asami was lying on the bed, her silk top open, revealing her gorgeous body.

"I must go," he said, turning away. "I will come back soon and tell you my plan. Then we will be together forever."

He and Lawson hurried out the back door and headed back to barracks, anxious to avoid Plumpton. As they turned into a street, they came face to face with him. He stood with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. "Anything to report?" he asked, suspiciously.

"All in order, sir," said Lawson, standing at attention. "We thought we heard suspicious noises in one of the houses but it was nothing."

"Which house did you go into?" he asked.

Lawson pointed vaguely down the street.

"You mean the Black Cat? I see...I see," he said. "The Black Cat eh...yes...and all clear you say? Righto lads, keep up the good work."

They kept walking back to barracks. Milne peeked over his shoulder. Plumpton had not moved and was watching them in the evening gloom.

The public and the government closely followed the progress of the New Guinea campaign. There was growing confidence and pride in young Australia's military achievements. At Parliament House in Melbourne, Prime Minister Fisher and Billy Hughes met with Senator Pearce to discuss the latest developments.

Hughes saw clearly that the capture of New Guinea was the first step in a bigger regional game. He thought that the Pacific was vital to Australia's long-term strategic interests. He wanted to prevent Germany reclaiming its former colony after the war and he wanted to keep Japan as far away as possible from Australia. Fisher was not interested in developing an independent policy on the Pacific. He saw the capture of German New Guinea as a great victory, but he wanted to move onto more pressing war issues.

Hughes was adamant. He could see that Fisher did not want to discuss this, but that never stopped him from relentlessly pursuing an issue. "This needs to be considered now because we will have to decide the best way to administer these territories. While the British requested that we occupy, rather than annex New Guinea, this does not mean we have to do exactly as the British tell us. There is a difference between occupying and annexing a territory."

"Enlighten us, Mr. Hughes."

"I declare that it is in our national interest to annex New Guinea as a protectorate of Australia. You know my views on annexation. The most direct form of government is best, the most indirect, the worst. We are part of the British Empire - but we have our own strategic interests to pursue. We currently administer the Territory of Papua. In my view, the best way to administer New Guinea is to merge it with Papua. Lieutenant-Governor Murray administers Papua very effectively. Over the years, he has developed a solid administration. We could extend his power to cover New Guinea. Then he will govern all our Pacific possessions – Papua, New Guinea, Bougainville, New Britain, New Ireland, Nauru, and the Admiralty Islands. More importantly these will form a buffer against relentless Japanese expansion."

Fisher did not like this approach and warned that they risked a diplomatic incident. He said that Britain had asked Australia to occupy, not annex, New Guinea, and Japan would not be happy that Australia had presumed it had a right to these territories.

While Fisher did not want to get into this debate, he decided that he should keep the discussion going as a means of working out what Hughes was after. He conceded that Hughes had a valid point. He agreed that Lieutenant-Governor Murray's administration of Papua was a model for other colonial powers.

"I think Mr. Murray has been in your ear Mr. Hughes," said Pearce. "He has spoken to me quietly about merging New Guinea with Papua.

"I have never been comfortable with Australia assuming the role of a colonial power," said Fisher. "We are a young country concerned with our own development. We live on the edge of Asia surrounded by teeming populations, yet we are so few. We must not lose sight of the key role of government – to develop our country and its people within the British Empire. We must not concern ourselves too deeply with the affairs of other nations, no matter how well-intentioned we are."

"Of course the major benefit of incorporating our Pacific conquests under one administration would be the reduced cost to the government," continued Hughes. "The territorial government would be based in Port Moresby, and we could appoint district officers for Rabaul, Madang and other major centres. Only a small number of additional administration officers would be required. If we adhered to the enlightened policies of Murray, there would be no need for a large garrison."

"If we were to go down this path, we would need to decide what to do with the German settlers and planters once the fighting is over," said Pearce.

"One option of course is to seize their coconut plantations and other property and deport the lot to Australia for internment," volunteered Hughes. "I see no future for German commercial interests in New Guinea or a future for German colonists. We must remove Germany's economic control of New Guinea forever. Our task is to kick the Hun out and prevent him ever returning. The public would never forgive us if after we have won the war, the Germans were to return to New Guinea. Once again, they could pose a military threat."

"We will return to the issue of the German settlers later," demanded Fisher. "I certainly agree we must prevent the Germans from returning, but I think seizing the property of the settlers will disrupt the colony. Now is not the moment to divert more resources than we need to control New Guinea."

"I will make one last point," said Hughes getting to his feet, as if he was about to launch into a speech in Parliament. "Whatever course of action we take, let us not forget the special relationship we have with Papua and New Guinea. As Ireland is to Great Britain, Mexico to the United States of America, Alsace-Loraine to France, so New Guinea is to Australia." He sat down with a self-satisfied look.

"Thank you Mr. Hughes," said Fisher, "Senator, please commend Holmes for the efficient and expedient way he has secured New Guinea for the allied cause."

In Rabaul, Holmes was dealing with a more down to earth matter. He had received a report that a gang of German residents had beaten a British missionary. He was outraged, and ordered an urgent investigation into the incident. The investigation identified the German colonists involved in the attack. They admitted their involvement and made written statements. Holmes decided to make an example of them to snuff out any plans for rebellion.

So it was that Milne and Lawson embarked on their strangest assignment yet – an officer ordered them to escort the prisoners to Proclamation Square where they were to be publicly caned.

In the barracks, the caning had been the source of lively discussion all week. As usual, Lawson had the inside information. "These blokes tried to start a rebellion against us. They got it in their heads that the Pommy missionary was a spy who helped us take New Guinea from 'em. So they decided to give him a thrashing. He was having tea with a lady friend when they grabbed him, tore his daks off, held him down and whipped his bare arse with a cane. They gave 'im thirty cuts. Soon as old Holmes heard about it he was mad as hell and had 'em arrested. Now we're looking for volunteers to do the whipping."

Immediately several men put up their hands. "Take me, me, I'll do it."

On the appointed day, Milne and Lawson arrived at the prison to escort the prisoners to Proclamation Square.

"Open up guard," shouted Milne, "we're here to escort the prisoners for the public caning."

The guard led the prisoners out.

"Please sir I'm innocent," said the youngest prisoner to Milne. "I was not involved in beating the missionary."

"It's no good telling me," said Milne. "The sentence has been passed."

"Stop whimpering boy," said one of the older prisoners. "Remember we must uphold the honour of our Fatherland. We must be dignified."

"Listen mate, there's nothing dignified about having your bare arse lashed in public!" said Lawson. "All German officials and civilians have been invited to watch. Every Australian soldier will be attending. It's like local entertainment."

"My trousers will be removed in public, oh the shame," cried the boy.

"... and your underpants as well," added Lawson. "Yes, you'll be handcuffed hand and foot to a sea chest, bare arse poking into the air for the entire world to see. Then the flogger is going to lay the cane hard on your soft little bum..."

The boy started to sob.

"Think yourself lucky you're only getting ten strokes of the cane, I'm getting thirty," said the ringleader. "Oh! I would rather be shot than to suffer the disgrace of being flogged in public."

"I don't know what all the fuss is about, mate," said Milne. "At my school if you only got ten lashes for some minor infraction, it meant the teacher was in a good mood."

"But I am an old man and I'm being caned in public. Oh, the humiliation!"

"I'd be more worried about not being able to sit down for a week," said Lawson. "I tell you, when they asked for volunteers to do the whipping, hundreds of blokes volunteered. They only took the strongest."

They escorted the prisoners to Proclamation Square. Holmes was standing on a podium. The first volunteer flogger stood to one side swishing the cane in the air. German civilians stood in a group and Australian soldiers stood in ranks around the square.

"These men about to be punished committed a very serious crime," announced Holmes. "The accused assaulted a British subject and a man of God. I will not tolerate assaults by German residents on Australian or British subjects. The ringleader will receive thirty strokes, the other two will receive twenty-five strokes each, and the boy will receive ten. Commence the punishment."

There was a commotion and one of the prisoners shouted, "There I have done it." He held up his bleeding wrist. "I would rather die than be so humiliated."

"He's bleeding," said Milne. "Call the medical officer."

The medical officer examined and bandaged the superficial cut. Holmes came down to have a look. When he saw that the cut wasn't serious, he ordered the caning to commence.

Lawson took the first prisoner and secured him to the barrel. The flogger stepped forward and lashed the prisoner's backside as hard as he could. The first lash drew blood.

"One...two...three..."

"That's a big area to cover," said Lawson. "He's not crying out."

Milne nodded. "Maybe they slipped him some rum in prison. Look at the size of the red welts appearing across his arse."

Milne turned to the boy. "Ok young fellow, it's your turn now, be brave, be a man."

He took the struggling boy forward and handcuffed him in position. As he walked back, he asked the flogger not to hit him too hard. When the punishment was over, he and Lawson escorted the prisoners to the wharf for internment in Australia.

"Didn't hurt at all, eh?" Lawson said to the older prisoner.

"Not only do we get publicly caned, we get deported as well. Who will run my plantation and look after my wife?"

"Where is your plantation? I'll look after your wife," said Lawson.

The prisoner looked grimly at Lawson, but said nothing.

After the punishment, all the German advisers employed by the Australians resigned in protest.

No matter what position he lay in, Milne could not get to sleep. True, the barracks was the worst place for sleeping. All around him, men were snoring, farting, talking in their sleep or restlessly thrashing about. The mosquitos buzzed angrily against his mozzie net, frustrated that they could not get at him. In the bunk next to his, Lawson snored loudly.

He lay on his stomach and pulled the thin pillow over his head. The sheets were soaked with sweat. Sweat ran down from his forehead into his eyes. No matter how tightly he closed his eyes, he could not shut Asami's image out. He tried to think of something else, anything, but his mind raced to thoughts of her. He imagined that he and Asami were alone in her little room. They were kissing and cuddling. She put her hand on his leg.

He lay on his back, opened his eyes, and stared into the darkness. _No, we mustn't_ , he thought, as if it was really happening. He closed his eyes and saw Asami again - she stared at him fiercely with coal-black eyes. Her gaze was cruel and hard. Her face was like a mask. She opened her kimono revealing her lovely body. Reaching out, he touched her small, pert breasts. She slowly undid the buttons on his trousers and pulled them down. Then she slid his underpants down and ran her hand expertly up and down his penis until he was fully erect. He opened his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He thought it ridiculous that he was having erotic dreams about Asami. His love for her was pure and chaste. He loved Asami for her strength of character – not as an object of sexual desire. He frowned on that sort of thinking. He expected Lawson to think like that. _I am above those animal cravings,_ he said to himself. _I am a moral man, not some savage lusting after females like a damn dog._

Having sorted that out, he turned on his side. When he closed his eyes, Asami was sitting astride him riding him hard. His hands gently squeezed her breasts. The mozzies buzzed angrily against the net. He was thrusting up as hard as he could. The tossing and turning drained him of energy. _I will talk to Wang tomorrow,_ he thought, _man to man. I will ask him to release Asami from her debt. She will be free to marry me. Then she will be mine._ This thought calmed him. He pulled the damp, sticky sheet over his body. Within a few minutes, he had slipped into a contented sleep.

Despite his lack of sleep, he woke full of resolve. He was determined to 'have a word' with Wang, and nothing Lawson said put him off the idea. He had convinced himself that he was in love with Asami and that she was in love with him.

After breakfast and roll call, he and Lawson set out for Wang's gambling club in Chinatown. He sent word to Wang that he wanted to speak with him, but did not tell him what he wanted to talk to him about. Wang was anxious to maintain good relations with the Australians and agreed to meet with him and his friend. They walked into the busy streets of Chinatown. The cafes and restaurants were crowded as they entered Wang's gambling den. At the door, one of Wang's servants ushered them into a small sitting area.

While they waited, two tough looking goons in suits came out of a back room and sat opposite them. One of them had a jagged scar running from his forehead to his chin. Lawson nicknamed him 'Scarface.' The door to the main office opened, and Wang, wearing a suit, welcomed them. He issued a stream of orders in Chinese to the two guards who nodded and remained seated.

"Welcome my friends," said Wang warmly. They followed him into his office. "I am always glad to meet you Australians. What can I do for you?"

Milne had never seen Wang before, so was not sure what to expect. Wang's air of respectability and authority took him aback. He was a small, lively man and looked more like a friendly uncle than the owner of several brothels, a gambling den and an opium den. He sat behind his desk beaming at his guests.

"Well...umm...the situation is..." stammered Milne, "that is, this is about Asami."

"Ah, I see, this is about Asami," repeated Wang. "What about Asami?"

"Well, the thing of it is..."

"He wants to know if you will free Asami," interrupted Lawson.

Wang leaned back, a smile on his face. He tilted his head and said, "I do not own Asami. She is free to go wherever she wants. You have been misinformed."

Milne was lost for words for a few moments. "She does owe you money doesn't she?"

"Yes, she owes me money, a lot of money. Her father ran up huge debts without any thought for his family. He paid off some of his debt by selling his daughter to me as a servant. When he died, I have been like a father to Asami."

"Some father you are," Lawson shot back.

The expression on Wang's face changed to anger. He forced a smile.

Milne jumped in. "The situation is I want to free Asami from what she has to do to earn a living."

"If you pay her debt to me, she will not have to work for me," said Wang. He wrote something on a piece of paper and said, "Here is her debt."

Milne took the piece of paper and gasped when he saw the amount of money involved.

Wang leaned back on his chair and smiled. "You see, young man, life is always more complicated than we imagine. We are all stuck here for the duration of the war. Asami must do something to earn her living and pay her family's debt. She, Mei and Freda make a good living."

"You could release her from her debt," said Milne.

Wang laughed. "I am a businessman. If it got around that I let people off their debts, I would end up in debt myself. No, my young friend, that is out of the question."

"Thank you for your time," said Milne. He stood up quickly and left. Lawson scrambled to his feet to catch up with him. As they walked out the door, the two thugs followed them into the street.

He remained silent as they crossed town to the Black Cat. Mei answered the door and let them in.

Freda emerged from the back room to welcome them. "Well, if it isn't our young warriors. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Pleasure did you say?" said Lawson. "I'll have a bit of that." He took Freda by the hand, but she pulled her hand away.

"I'm not in the mood," she said. "Where's all the money you were going to give me to help out? My regulars have gone – either arrested or cower at home in fear of arrest. This war will be the ruin of me. Let's see your money first."

"You're a hard one ain't yer. As it happens, I'm a bit short this week. Any day could be me last. Only last week I faced a horde of cannibals, baying for my blood. One by one, I despatched them. Yes, my luck can't last forever. Just think how you'd feel if after I left here unsatisfied, I was killed in battle. You would never forgive yourself for not making me last day on earth a happy one."

Freda laughed. "Don't give me that old line. I've heard that one before. We'll have a nice chat instead."

While Lawson and Freda engaged in small talk, Milne walked into the kitchen where Asami was making lunch. She had her back to him and sang softly as she cooked. He stopped in the doorway and tried to shut out the dream he had of her the night before. A wave of lust swept over his body as he watched her.

She became aware of his presence, turned around and bowed. He walked over to her. "I spoke to Wang this morning; he will not free you unless you pay him your father's debt."

Asami stood with her back to the stove. "You must forget me. Wang is a very dangerous man. I heard him order the death of a man once. He ordered it as if it was a business deal."

"I'm not scared of him, or his sidekicks. I am determined to rescue you from slavery. I've decided that when my enlistment is up at the end of the year, I'm going to stay here. We will be together. I'll manage a plantation. Everything will work out."

He put his hand on her shoulder. She bowed her head. "There is no escape for me from this life. It is my karma. In the next life, it will be better."

"We can make our lives better," he pleaded. "We will make a life together. You will not have to sleep with men anymore."

"Is it possible?" she said, full of hope. "I cannot believe that we can change our lives. We are stuck on the wheel of life. Death is our only escape."

"If we love each other everything is possible," he said. "You can change your life. Wang won't order you about anymore. If he so much as threatens you, I'll have him arrested."

Asami put her arms around him and pressed her face into his chest. He hugged her tightly. He never wanted to let her go. He swelled his chest up as if to prove she had nothing to fear. They remained in embrace, neither speaking.

Freda and Lawson walked into the kitchen arm in arm and stood watching the lovers. "I wish you'd hold me like that," said Freda. Lawson rolled his eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but we'd better get back to barracks before we're reported missing," said Lawson. "Plumpton would like an excuse to put us on report."

Milne spun around defiantly. "Plumpton can go to hell, I'm not going back. I'm staying here to protect Asami. If any men come around to see her, I'm going to kick 'em out."

Lawson grimaced. "Have you lost your mind? That's desertion. Pull yourself together. You'll end up in prison at this rate."

"I don't care about anything except my little Asami," he shouted. He clung to her. "She's all that matters."

Asami pleaded with him not to get into trouble on her account. She begged him to go back to the barracks. "If you do this, we may never be together. You will be arrested and sent back to Australia."

He realised that she was right. "I will come back soon. Think about what I have said. Then we will talk again."

He and Lawson slipped out the backdoor. When they arrived at the barracks, Plumpton, recently promoted to a higher rank, met them at the gate. He looked at his watch, and called them over.

"Now we're for it," whispered Lawson.

"Come along with me, chaps," he said sternly. They dutifully followed him wondering if he knew about their visits to the Black Cat. "Now look here, I have a special task for you two, follow me."

They followed him to the barracks where he told them they were going to be part of an expedition to capture German-occupied Nauru.

The next morning, Milne leant against the railing of the old merchant steamer, watching Rabaul slowly disappear from sight. The steamer sailed out of Simpson Harbour into Blanche Bay. By early evening, they had entered the vast Pacific Ocean heading for Nauru. Lawson stood next to him. "Here we go again. Another bit of the Pacific to conquer. We didn't even get a chance to visit the girls before we left."

They headed below decks. Some soldiers were sitting around a table playing cards and writing letters, while others lay in their hammocks, swaying back and forth on the swell. A group of young soldiers gathered around Lawson. After telling them about his latest adventures, he told them everything he knew about Nauru. Most of the soldiers had never heard of Nauru. They may as well have been venturing onto another planet.

Lawson told them that the Germans had taken Nauru 'some time back.'

A soldier sitting at the table took an old battered map out of his kit bag and unfolded it on the table. He searched for Nauru and concluded 'it didn't exist because it ain't on the map.'

"You bloody nong, this map ain't big enough," said Lawson. "Nauru's a thousand miles from Rabaul." He took a penny out of his pocket and placed it on the table above the map to show where Nauru was in relation to Rabaul.

"What do we want with Nauru anyway," said the soldier.

"Mountains of bird shit," replied Lawson. "See Nauru's nothin' but a huge mound of bird shit and our farmers need it for fertiliser. When the war broke out, the Germans rounded up British residents on Nauru and deported them to Ocean Island. Now we're off to Ocean Island to pick up the deported Poms, take 'em back to Nauru, arrest the German residents and soldiers, and deport 'em to Australia."

The expedition, under the command of Holmes, arrived off Ocean Island without incident. A large crowd of civilians gathered on the wharf cheering and waving flags. Word had reached them that the Australians had arrived to rescue them and take them back to Nauru.

The British Resident Commissioner of Ocean Island greeted Holmes as he came ashore. "Welcome Colonel Holmes, this is indeed a great day. We have heard great stories about Australia's victory in New Guinea. God bless you, sir!"

Civilians crowded around Holmes patting him on the back. Most were former British residents from Nauru. One of them called out, "There he is the hero of New Guinea. Sir, we have named you the Lion of New Guinea. We heard how you defeated the Germans." Another former resident shouted, "Those Hun brutes threw us out of our homes and sent us here. We've been living like natives in huts. We've been eating nothing but coconuts and papaws."

"We'll soon have you back on Nauru," replied Holmes.

Holmes held up his hand and addressed the crowd. "Pack your belongings; you're going back to Nauru to resume your occupations. Hurry, pack your possessions and be ready to embark tomorrow morning. We cast off at dawn."

The crowd burst into applause. "Three cheers for Colonel Holmes!"

"Tell me, do you expect the Germans to put up a fight for Nauru?" asked the Commissioner.

"Nauru is covered by the terms of the surrender I negotiated with Dr. Haber. I do not expect resistance. However, if they are foolish enough to try, I am ready for them. I have brought a garrison to prevent the Germans returning. There is also concern from our politicians that the Japanese might occupy former German islands we don't garrison."

"The Japanese navy has been active around here. A few warships have patrolled the area but nothing to report."

"So what's life like so far from everything?" asked Holmes, as they walked towards the Commissioner's residency.

"Very peaceful – well until the exiles from Nauru turned up. I'll be honest with you, I'll be glad to see the back of them. The island grows some food – coconuts, breadfruit, papaws, mangoes and pumpkins. Water is a problem. We have to condense seawater to make enough fresh water. Then the exiles arrived. There was no additional accommodation to house them, other than a few primitive huts. They were not happy with this arrangement. They demanded I evict the natives from their houses so they could live in these. I refused of course. They squabbled over the lack of food and water."

"I'll have them off your hands soon."

"Sir, I'd be wary about taking them back to Nauru. They're spoiling for a fight with the Germans for kicking them out."

That evening, Holmes and his officers attended a dinner held in their honour. They drank toasts to the King, and victory over the Kaiser.

On the ship, the soldiers spent their time playing cards, writing letters and talking. For most of the trip, Milne had been quiet. He and Lawson stood side by side on the deck staring out to sea.

"Thinking about Asami?" asked Lawson.

"Yes, I've been thinking about how I can save her from Wang. I will free her and she will marry me."

"How will you set her free?"

"I'll give Wang one more chance to release her from his debt."

"And what if he refuses to let her go?"

"I'll put the barrel of my rifle to his head and take her by force."

"He'll report you to the military police. You'll end up in prison and Asami will end up back with 'im."

"Well, I have another plan. I'll take Asami away from Freda's club and hide her in a village near the barracks. I'll pay the villagers to look after her for me."

"Then what?"

"At the end of the year when our enlistment is up, I'll seek permission to remain here as a civilian. Asami and I will be married."

"Have you asked her what she wants?"

"Not exactly."

"That's the first thing you should do when we get back to Rabaul after this little adventure. Find out if she wants to marry you."

"She can't be happy being treated the way she is by those men. Just the thought of Asami being touched by those filthy leering men makes me mad as hell."

"If you love her so much, why not take her home with you. I can imagine the look on your parents' faces when you walk in – 'Mum, Dad, I'm home from the war. By the way, I met a Japanese sex slave while I was in Rabaul, and we're gettin' married. Her pimp tried to stop me, but I shot the bastard. Your parents would say – 'well done son, we're proud of you. What a sweet little whore she is'."

"I told you not to call her a whore!" he shouted, shaking his fist under Lawson's nose. "Wang enslaved her. If you call her that name once more, as God is my witness, I'll beat the living daylights out of you."

"Righto mate, keep your shirt on. I was just trying to make you see how your parents would react to you bringing Asami home."

"They have nothing to do with it. I told you, I'm not going home because Asami won't be allowed to settle in Australia."

"You can't live in Japan – you don't speak the lingo and the Japanese don't much like foreigners."

"We'll live in Rabaul. If Japan won't accept me, and Australia won't accept Asami, New Guinea is where we'll live. New Guineans don't care where you're from. I'll find work - I can turn my hand to just about anything."

"You sound like you have it all worked out, mate. Listen, we've been through a lot together. You're my mate. I'll help you in any way I can. But if I think you're being a bloody drongo, I'll tell youse."

For the first time in a week, Milne smiled. "I love her so much it hurts. All I can think about is her face. The way she talks and laughs. I've never been in love before."

"You've got a lot of life ahead of you," remarked Lawson. "When we enlisted, I remember you told me you joined up so you could do your bit to help defeat Germany. We've thrashed them in New Guinea; but they aren't done yet by a long shot in Europe. Now you fall in love - and want out."

"Meeting Asami has changed things. I see what you mean. There is still a job to be done." He lapsed into silence and stared into the black surging sea.

Lawson said nothing more, hoping his friend had come to his senses.

The next morning, the Nauru exiles arrived at the ship with all their belongings, clamouring to come aboard. They pushed their way up the gangway, lugging suitcases, paintings and furniture.

When they were aboard, the ship cast off.

The expedition arrived off Nauru, and Holmes sent a demand to the German district officer to surrender. He wisely surrendered and promised that he would abide by the surrender terms. The troops piled into rowboats. Lawson and Milne were in one of the first boats to land. The Germans met them on shore, indicating that they would not resist.

"Looks like a welcome party is here to greet us," said Milne.

Lawson laughed. "This is one of the treats of my life. It's more like a holiday than a war."

When they had secured the landing point, Holmes came ashore, and walked up to the senior German officer. "In light of the surrender terms agreed with Dr. Haber, I wish to inform you that you are all under arrest. You will hand over all firearms immediately. Please assemble all German officials and civilians in the town where I will address you."

"Sir, I beg you," said the German officer, "please allow the German civilians to remain. They will cause no problems. They will agree to an oath of neutrality if you wish."

"No, all German civilians are to be deported in the same way you deported British civilians to Ocean Island. I do not intend to debate this matter."

"Please sir," said a German civilian, "you will be assured that we will abide by the peace treaty. Many of us work in the phosphate mining operations. Allowing us to stay would be..."

"Sergeant, arrest this man and escort him to the ship, you seem to have forgotten there is a war on, and you sir, are our enemy."

British civilians cheered when they saw the Germans placed under arrest.

Soldiers spread out through the town and searched for weapons and ammunition. After securing the town, they searched for empty houses to sleep in for the night.

Milne and Lawson, inseparable as ever, made themselves at home in one of the bungalows formerly occupied by mining employees. The bungalow had a large verandah facing the Pacific. The previous occupants had left behind pots and pans, plates and eating utensils. Later in the afternoon, three more soldiers joined them.

"Look what I found," said one of them producing a bottle of schnapps. Another soldier pulled two dead chickens from a bag over his shoulder. "They died for a good cause – our dinner." In addition to the chickens, the soldiers had gathered jars of pickles, cucumbers and coconuts. They had all the makings of a feast. They sat around the small house on every available piece of furniture they could find.

Once they were comfortable, the bottle of schnapps did the rounds. "Gawd, how can Germans drink this stuff," said Milne. "It tastes bloody awful. You know, back in Australia I hardly ever drank beer or whisky. Now I'll pour anything alcoholic down my throat. But this stuff is bloody terrible."

"It tastes like that because it's made out of potatoes," said Lawson. "It tastes better the more you drink because it numbs your innards. Now if you was a German you'd drink this stuff all the time because of the miserable climate. You see it's cold, wet and raining or snowing pretty much all of the time in Hunland. That's why Germans are such miserable bastards."

When they had finished the bottle, a search was made of the adjoining houses, and they collected more bottles of homemade booze. They built a fire on the beach and cooked the chickens. Other groups of soldiers were doing the same further along the beach.

A group of Nauruans watched from a distance. They stood or sat on the sand just beyond the circle of light from the fire. "Maybe they want their chickens back," said one of the soldiers.

"I often wonder what the natives think of us," said Milne. "This isn't their war but they've found themselves in the middle of it." He beckoned to the Nauruans to join them, but they smiled and disappeared into the shadows. "The Nauruans look different from the New Guineans."

"The Nauruans are descended from seafarers," said Lawson with great authority. "They've lived here a bloody long time. A sailor once told me that there were twelve tribes living 'ere in harmony when Spanish explorers turned up. The Spaniards sold 'em grog and guns. A dispute between two tribes turned into a civil war. The tribes went at it and nearly wiped themselves out. The Germans arrived and stopped the fighting. But they liked it so much they stayed."

"Funny isn't it," said Milne. "The natives always look happy. The only work they do is to go fishing and collect coconuts. I wouldn't mind that sort of life after the war."

They heard the sound of laughter and splashing carried on the wind. They looked up the beach and saw soldiers swimming. "Come on," shouted Lawson, "time for a bath." He stripped off and walked into the sea. He sat down in the water with a bottle of schnapps and urged the others to strip off and jump in.

The party raged on into the night. Milne fell asleep on the beach.

Despite the late night, he woke at dawn feeling surprisingly refreshed. Lawson was already up, stirring the fire back to life. The others snored blissfully.

"Let 'em sleep a bit longer," said Lawson.

They took a morning stroll inland a little way to see what the country looked like. There were massive holes in the ground from phosphate mining.

When they returned to camp, the others were awake. Two soldiers had cooked a concoction of leftovers for breakfast. An officer gave them orders to march to Government House for a ceremony to mark the transfer of Nauru from German hands into Australian hands.

They packed up and headed off. When they arrived, German civilians and Nauruans stood around a podium. Holmes, in full military uniform, strode to the podium, and announced that Australian forces would occupy Nauru for the duration of the war in accordance with the terms of capitulation signed by Dr. Haber. A soldier hoisted the flag, and the assembled soldiers gave a rousing cheer. When the ceremony was over, the Australians expelled the dejected Germans from paradise and marched them to the ship that would take them to their internment in Australia.

Milne and Lawson embarked for the return journey to Rabaul.

Arriving in Rabaul, they learnt that a combined Japanese and British force had seized the German naval base at Tsingtoa in China after a lengthy battle. They also heard that the HMAS _Sydney_ had sunk the German raider _Emden_ in a fierce battle near Cocos Island. These two events, along with the capture of most German-occupied islands, ended the German presence in the Pacific. The sinking of the _Emden_ removed the threat to Australian shipping in the region. Many of the soldiers talked about returning to Australia to reenlist and head for the war in Europe. "There's not much left to do here," they said. Others felt they had done their bit and wanted to go home and go back to what they were doing before the war.

Milne faced a dilemma. On the one hand, he wanted to start a new life with Asami. On the other, he wanted to do his duty. He could imagine himself running a plantation near Rabaul and living in a big airy house with servants scurrying around. He could imagine Asami wearing her kimono and playing her shamisen. It would be an idyllic life in the tropics.

He told Lawson that he intended to ask Asami to marry him. While he recognised that there were many obstacles to marrying Asami, he did not care. "If you love someone, you'll do anything to be with that person no matter what is put in your path. If an obstacle is in your path, and you give up, then that is not true love. No, love is an endless quest and you must never falter or give in."

"For someone who's never been in love, you know a lot about it," said Lawson. "Love is a lot more complicated than you make out. You keep talking about marrying Asami as if it was going to happen. But you 'aven't asked her yet. She might turn you down."

"No, I am sure she loves me. When I last talked to her, I told her I wanted to stay behind when my enlistment is up at the end of the year. She didn't say no. You were there – she hugged me and wouldn't let go."

"She didn't say yes either. I just think you're living in a dream. You don't know nothin' about love."

"I haven't been in love before but that doesn't mean I know nothing about it. You can't learn about love – it's an emotion you experience, like smiling, or crying."

"Mate, I just think you're being a bloody galah. I know you don't like me mentioning Asami's background, but you can't pretend it don't exist. Wake up to yourself is what I'm saying."

"Look, we've been through this before," said Milne, shaking his fist under Lawson's nose. "She was forced into it – she had no choice. She's a good woman. I intend to save her from enslavement. If she has someone to love her, she could start a new life. Asami will become a new woman."

"Why don't you meet a nice Aussie girl back home? There will be lots of girls who'll want to step out with heroes like us when we get back. All the other blokes back home who didn't go to New Guinea will be jealous of us."

"That's all you ever think about isn't it, Lawson. I think you volunteered just so you could get more girlfriends back home. It's disgusting. There's more to life than sex."

He was determined to ask Asami to marry him. If she said yes, he would then figure out what to do next. He had not worked out his next move, but hoped a plan would form as events unfolded.

"So much for my plan to ask Asami to marry me," said Milne ruefully.

He and Lawson had been assigned guard duties on their return from the Nauru expedition and had not had a chance to visit the Black Cat. They were part of a small detachment of soldiers under the watchful eye of Plumpton supervising the unloading and guarding of military supplies at Rabaul wharf.

"Yeah, this war keeps getting in the way of yer social life don't it," joked Lawson.

"Quiet in the ranks," shouted Plumpton. "That's enough chatter."

At the wharf, they watched as an expedition boarded the _Siar_ to capture the German-occupied Admiralty Islands. A crowd of soldiers and civilians gathered to cheer them on to victory.

Freda and Asami came down to the wharf to see them. While stores and weapons were loaded aboard, Milne and Lawson were able to sneak away to speak to them.

"I have missed you," whispered Asami. "When will you visit me again?"

"Soon, I haven't been able to get away. Remember what I said before –we will talk about our future. I know we can make a go of it."

"Please come soon," she said softly. There was no opportunity to hug or kiss so they stood together for a few more moments.

Freda and Lawson's meeting was a bit more formal. "So where have you been, ignoring me again?" she said sardonically.

"Bloody Plumpton watches us all the time. I think he knows that we've been visiting the Black Cat. Until we can slip away, remember me. No, don't turn me into a hero. Just remember me as I am – humble, brave, handsome..."

She smiled and shook her head. "What am I to do with you? I think I'm falling in love with you."

Lawson went pale. "Francis, let's get back to work."

As they walked back, Plumpton watched them suspiciously. "Who were those women you were talking to? You all looked very familiar."

Quick as a flash Lawson replied, "Just some of our admirers, sir, wishing us well."

Plumpton looked over at the women and noticed the Japanese girl was crying. Then he saw Freda blow Lawson a kiss. He decided to say nothing for the moment.

"That was close, if Plumpton finds we've been sneaking around to the Black Cat, we're both up shit creek without a paddle," said Lawson.

For the next two weeks, they were on continuous guard duty at the wharf. They were still there when the Admiralty Island expedition returned triumphant.

Back in the barracks, the soldiers who had been on the expedition talked about their adventures. A brash young soldier said, "We steamed into Lorengau, which is the main town on the island. As we neared the wharf to anchor the ship, we noticed that a group of armed German and native troops were retreating towards the jungle. We fired a few rounds over their heads, and they surrendered. We disembarked at the wharf and marched into the town. Not much to it; a few buildings and scattered huts. In the middle of the town, a German officer leading some troops greeted us and surrendered. They handed over their weapons without a murmur and seemed relieved. And that was the end of the fighting. Our commanding officer read the surrender terms to a small group of bored German planters and a few natives. So, for the next couple of weeks we were stuck on guard duty in that dump. The Germans don't have any fight in 'em. They'd heard about Haber surrendering back in September, and they've been waiting for us to arrive and take 'em prisoner."

"Another piece of German New Guinea is in the hands of Australia," said Milne proudly. "When the world calls Australia, we'll be there."

### Chapter 6

Francis Milne had resolved to marry Asami and worry about the consequences later. He felt elated, optimistic, clear-headed, and purposeful.

"What is the worst that they can do to me?" he said to Lawson back at the barracks. "Anyone stands in my way...well, they'd better not. Asami! Asami! I love you."

They headed for the Black Cat.

Freda greeted them coldly. She had been having troubles with rowdy soldiers. "The military police raided the club and arrested a number of soldiers. They have threatened to close me down. I don't know how I'll survive without my club."

"Now now, things have a way of sorting themselves out," said Lawson.

"I see, so you will support me?"

"Steady on old girl. We're here so my lovesick friend can propose to Asami. Isn't that right Romeo?"

"Where's Asami?" asked Milne, ignoring Lawson.

"She's in her room, asleep," replied Freda. "If the club closes, she'll be out on the street with me. If you can help her, now is the time to help."

"But this is wonderful news," he replied. "If the Black Cat is shut down there will be no more men coming to see her."

"Don't be naïve," said Freda, bitterly. "Wang will move her to one of his brothels."

"We'll see about that."

He headed for Asami's room. He gently knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again. When she didn't answer, he opened the door. Her bed was empty.

He rushed back to the sitting room. "Where is she? What have you done with her?"

"Steady on there," said Lawson, trying to calm his friend. "She's probably gone shopping or something."

"She was there earlier this morning," said Freda, straightening her dress. "She didn't tell me where she was going. I stepped out earlier and she was still here...unless Wang sent for her..."

"It's time Wang and I had another little talk," said Milne, patting his rifle. "Tell me where he lives - I'll pay him a visit."

"Bloody hell mate, you'll end up getting us bloody arrested," pleaded Lawson.

"You don't have to come – I didn't bloody ask you anyway."

Freda reluctantly gave Milne Wang's address. "Why not have a drink first, boys, I've got some sly grog brewed fresh this morning."

"Okay, a drink before I see Wang," he said.

Freda brought out a bottle and poured them a drink. Milne took a sip and nearly choked. "Jeez ...my mouth's gone numb." He forced a few more sips down his throat. "Not bad once you've had a few sips. I tell you, when I see Wang, I'm going to sort him out good and proper. You can't enslave women in this day and age." He gulped down his drink and called for another. After another glass, he felt he could take on the world. He got up, staggered, and headed for the door.

Lawson sat next to Freda, torn between wanting to support his mate, and wanting to stay with her.

"Oh bugger it; I can't let him get himself into a mess. He's not thinking straight."

"Don't bother coming back," shouted Freda, as he went in pursuit of Milne.

He caught up with him near Wang's house. He realised talking his friend out of visiting Wang was not going to work, so he calmed him down as they marched up the steps to Wang's front door. Milne burst through the door, pushing through the servants. A servant desperately clung to his leg as he crashed into Wang's dining room.

Wang was sitting at the head of a large teak table having lunch with his extended family. There was a roasted pig on the table which they were about to dine on. Wang was in the middle of making a speech. He stopped in mid-sentence, and stared in surprise at the determined Milne.

"Right Wang, it's time you and I had it out, man to man," he slurred.

Everyone at the table looked at Wang. "What seems to be the trouble young man?"

The diners turned to look at Milne. "Release Asami or there'll be trouble for you."

"We have discussed this once before. I do not hold her against her will."

As Wang spoke, Milne took his rifle off his shoulder and held it in both hands to emphasize he was serious. Wang looked uncomfortable. The diners looked back and forth between the two. Lawson stood next to Milne.

Wang rose from the table and walked towards Milne. "I ask you to leave young man, before the police arrive." He took him gently by the arm and led him to the door.

Milne elbowed him and pushed him to the floor. Wang uttered a series of curses, which was a signal for his guests to leap to his defence. When Lawson saw them grabbing his mate, he leapt into the fray. The servants joined in the struggle. Lawson picked up a servant and threw him through the air. He landed on the roast pig and slid onto the floor taking the tablecloth, dishes and bowls with him. Meanwhile, Milne had Wang in a headlock while Wang's mother repeatedly banged him on the head with a large wooden soup ladle, shouting in Chinese to release her son.

The whole of Rabaul's Chinatown heard the commotion and a crowd gathered in the street. A squad of military police, alerted by the noise, turned into the street and headed for Wang's house. They marched up the steps, entered the house and rushed into the dining room. They stopped dead in their tracks trying to figure out what was happening. Milne and Lawson were fighting several irate dinner guests. They arrested Milne and Lawson and dragged them off to prison.

"I'm innocent," shouted Milne.

"Yeah, tell that to the judge at your court-martial," laughed one of the guards.

A few days later, the military held an inquiry to decide if Milne and Lawson should face a court-martial. The inquiry brought together all the colourful characters involved in the 'incident' as it became known around the town.

The judge in the case was none other than Plumpton. He made a grand entrance and sat behind a table. The table had a few papers sitting in neat piles but most important, a gavel. He picked it up and banged it on the table to make sure it worked. Once he'd established that the gavel worked, he cast a severe eye over the witnesses. There was Mr Wang, dressed in traditional Chinese clothes, stroking his long beard and eyeing off his business rival, Komine. Komine was dressed in a formal suit. He grinned broadly and nodded at Plumpton. Asami was dressed in her best kimono. She kept her head bowed. Freda Scholl was dressed very demurely and bowed to Plumpton.

Plumpton asked the guard to bring in the prisoners. Milne and Lawson entered from a door on the left hand side of the room. Both were smartly dressed and snapped to attention. They were dismayed to see that Plumpton was their judge.

"Now we're really for it," muttered Lawson.

Plumpton cleared his throat and rummaged through his papers. "The purpose of this inquiry is to get to the bottom of the recent incident involving an assault by these two, Privates Milne and Lawson, on Mr Wang and damage to his property. I want you each to tell me in your own words what happened on the day. I will then decide whether to refer the case to a court-martial. The first person I call to give evidence is the arresting officer. Please describe the events leading to the arrest of Private Milne and Private Lawson."

The arresting officer stepped forward. "I was on a routine patrol in the Chinatown area when I heard shouting and sounds of a fight. Hello, I says to myself, come on lads there may be..."

"Just stick to the facts, sergeant," interrupted Plumpton. "I want the facts of the case and not a rendition of your thoughts."

"Sorry your honour, I'll continue. The patrol turned the corner and we saw a large crowd outside a house. The crowd pointed to the house and called to us. We immediately rushed towards the front door, which was open, and just as we arrived a man flew out the open window and crashed into the garden. He got up cursing and was about to climb back through the window when I stopped him and asked him what was going on. He said nothing, but took me by the sleeve and led me into the house to the dining area. When I got there, I noticed several men fighting with Milne and Lawson." The sergeant stopped and pointed ominously at the prisoners.

"Can you describe the positions of Milne and Lawson during the fight?" asked Plumpton.

"At first it was hard to make out who had hold of who," continued the sergeant, enjoying the story. "Milne had Mr. Wang in a headlock, and Lawson was on the other side of the room throwing punches in every direction. Mr. Wang's mother was hitting Milne on the head with a soup ladle, and two servants were trying to loosen Milne's grip on Wang. There were bodies everywhere, mainly servants who had tried to defend their master. The women were crying and wringing their hands. Everyone was cursing, crying or shouting."

"What happened next?" asked Plumpton.

"I blew me whistle and told everyone to stop fighting. Private Milne did not loosen his grip. I then arrested him. Only then did he release Mr. Wang. Lawson then stopped fighting and came over to surrender to me."

"Thank you sergeant, that will be all for the moment."

Plumpton rifled through his papers, muttering to himself. "I intend to call Miss Asami next. She may be able to clear up how this dreadful fracas started."

Asami stepped forward accompanied by Mr. Komine who said he might need to assist in translation. Asami combined elegant submissiveness with a strong character. When she faced Plumpton, she was almost defiant. She spoke in a clear, loud voice.

"All of what has happened is my fault," she began. "I was working at the Black Cat when Australian soldiers landed at Rabaul. One day, Private Milne came to search the Black Cat for weapons. He spoke to me very kindly. He visited me again. Sir, he wanted to know about me, so I told him about my life and the death of my father. He came to see me whenever he could, but he never wanted anything more than to sit and talk. Sir, he fell in love with me because he asked me to marry him. My life was very sad because Mr. Wang forced me to have relations with men."

"Why did he do this?"

"My father was in debt to him and Mr. Wang forced me to have sex with his clients to pay his debt. I am sorry Francis got himself into trouble because of me."

"So, in fact Mr. Wang, you are a brothel keeper and pimp," said Plumpton sharply. "You entrapped Miss Asami, who innocently came to Rabaul with her father, and when he died you preyed on her. I take a very dim view of your activities, Mr. Wang."

"Your honour, I am not the one on trial here," he replied. "I was sitting down to lunch with my family when these thugs burst into my house and then refused to leave. They would have beaten me if the police had not arrived and arrested them."

Plumpton held up his hand and told Wang to sit down. He turned his attention to Freda. "Now Mrs. Scholl, what part did you play in the incident?"

"None sir," said Freda, standing up. "I came to Rabaul with my husband, who owned a plantation. Later, we bought a house in Rabaul and turned it into a drinking club. Not long after, he died of malaria. When you Australians landed in Rabaul, I fled to Toma with Dr. Haber. During negotiations between you and Dr. Haber, I met Private Milne. After the surrender, I returned to the club. Private Milne and Private Lawson visited the club. I had employed Mr. Lawson at the Black Cat last year."

"So let me get this straight," said Plumpton, looking confused. "This is like a damn maze. Mr. Wang is a brothel owner, you manage a club that also operates as a brothel, and Asami is a...lady of the night. Lawson and Milne searched your house and in the process became friendly with you and Asami. Is that correct?"

"And Mei," added Freda.

"Who the devil is Mei?"

"She also works at the club. And if you'll pardon me, sir, I'd rather you didn't refer to the Black Cat as a brothel. Rather, it is a place where men can relax, have a drink..."

Plumpton held up his hand. "I'm really not interested in what goes on at the Black Cat. I know it is a club of ill repute and I know this pair has been sneaking around there regularly." Plumpton ruffled through his papers for a few minutes. "This is all very interesting but it is not getting us nearer the truth. I therefore call on Private Milne to address the inquiry."

Plumpton looked fiercely at Milne. "Now listen here, Milne, I don't want any nonsense. I want the truth."

Milne slowly stood up. He did not like speaking in public, and found his legs barely able to support him. "I'm deeply sorry for the trouble I've caused. Private Lawson tried to talk me out of seeing Wang but I insisted. I only wanted to talk to him. It got out of hand. When he tried to escort me from his house, I pulled away and pushed him over. I'm sorry for this."

"Why did you treat Mr. Wang in this way?" asked Plumpton.

"It's just like everyone said. When I came to Rabaul, the first person I met was Asami. I have never met anyone like her. She spoke so sweetly with her broken English. After that first meeting, every chance I got, I visited her; I wanted to get to know her. Sir, I'm not a man of the world, but I fell in love. I could not get her out of my mind. Sir, I could think of nothing else but her. When she told me how Wang treated her, it made my blood boil. She was a fallen woman, ensnared by that beast."

Milne pointed a trembling hand at Wang, who went pale and leapt up protesting his innocence.

At this point, Komine, who was more than happy to see a business rival's name dragged through the mud, added that everything Milne said was correct. "He confided in me on the mission to seize the _Komet_ – he told me of his love for Asami. He believed Wang held her against her will. What man would do less than Private Milne for the woman he loved?"

"Indeed, indeed," said Plumpton thoughtfully. "This is a most unusual case. What did you intend to do next once you had saved Asami from Mr. Wang?"

Milne thought for a few moments. "I wanted to marry her and live in Rabaul or take her back to Australia."

"You must realise you could not have taken this course of action," said Plumpton. "You're a soldier on active service. You can't go around rescuing fallen women and taking them home with you. And that's the truth of the matter. You do seem to have got yourself into a damn muddle."

Milne bowed his head. "I suppose so. I can't say I was thinking straight at the time."

"Yes, I would agree with that statement, a most interesting case," said Plumpton, leaning back. He looked down at his papers. Then he turned to face the audience. "This is my ruling – Privates Milne and Lawson, I do not condone your behaviour by any measure, but I understand why you did what you did. This is a lesson to all young men about the need to control your desires. If you had done your duty instead of cavorting around the Black Cat getting up to no good, none of this would have happened. I do not intend to bring charges against you. However, you will both be sent on the expedition to the capture the Solomons, and you will remain there as part of the garrison. At the end of your enlistment period, you will be free to return to Australia and reenlist for service. Take the prisoners down."

Plumpton waited while the guards escorted Milne and Lawson out of the court.

He then turned sternly to the others. "As for the rest of you – Mrs. Scholl, you keep a disreputable house and are a shady character. During a search of the Black Cat, soldiers found two pistols and a rifle. All German residents were required to hand in weapons."

"Your honour, these were for my protection," she began.

"The law is the law. I place you under house arrest until a ship is available to transport you to Australia where you will be interned for the duration of the war. Take her away and escort her to her house."

The guard escorted Freda out of the courtroom.

"Miss Asami, you are the victim of an unscrupulous gangster. I have the highest regard for your character. Your story brings tears to my eyes – an innocent girl orphaned by terrible fate, abandoned to the clutches of this evil, evil man. I cancel your debt and you may return to Japan on the first available steamer. I order that Mr. Wang pay your fare from his ill-gotten gains. In the meantime, you will be placed in the care of Mr. Komine."

Before anyone could complain, Plumpton closed the inquiry and marched out.

Milne did not speak for days. He lay on his bunk in the corner staring at the ceiling. He went over and over the events leading up to the inquiry. It seemed to him that all was lost. All undone. Asami was in the care of Komine and would soon return to Japan. _Perhaps Asami and I should have run away together,_ he thought. _Lived in the jungle._ Then another thought crossed his mind – _I joined the army to do my duty. Nothing has changed. I still want to do my duty but I also want to be with Asami._ _Perhaps_ , _I might not reenlist at the end of the year. I've done my duty. When I return from the Solomons, I will take Asami in my arms and we will find a way to be together. If she's already left for Japan, I'll go there and find her. I'll have to learn Japanese. I'm not very good at learning languages. No, that won't work. Damn it all._ To make matters worse, he and Lawson were leaving for the Solomons in a few days where they were to remain as part of the garrison until the end of the year. In his mind, the Solomons may as well have been on Mars. He would never see Asami again. The things he wanted to say to her would never be said. The life he wanted to share with her would never be lived. All his dreams were in tatters.

He was relieved that at least she was safe from Wang – but downhearted that he might never see her again.

He walked to the latrine near the barracks and washed his face in the sink. The latrine smelled of antiseptic and mosquito spray.

Lawson walked in and stood next to him. He felt bad about what had happened to Freda. They both did. The authorities closed the Black Cat and placed Freda under house arrest awaiting deportation to Australia. Lawson worried that Wang might harm her. Worse, she had nothing to defend herself with - her pistols, which she used for self-defence, had been confiscated.

The two friends hatched a plan to see Asami and Freda before they went on the expedition. Although confined to barracks, they bribed one of the guards to look the other way so they could sneak out for a few hours.

The night before the expedition was due to sail; they slipped out of the barracks and headed for Chinatown. They made their way cautiously through the pitch-black streets. When they arrived in Chinatown, they split up - Lawson heading for Freda's club, and Milne going to Komine's house. They agreed to meet at Komine's house before returning to barracks.

He stood before Komine's door, his heart racing, and knocked gently. Asami answered the door. She was wearing a colourful kimono. Her black shiny hair fell gently to her shoulders. His heart melted when he saw her.

She threw her arms around his neck. "I have missed you very much."

He was speechless for a few minutes trying to find the right words. "Oh Asami, I wish things had turned out differently - how will I find you if you go back to Japan?"

She responded by taking his hand and leading him to her room. She sat on her bed and invited him to sit next to her. She turned her face to his. He could feel her sweet breath on his cheek.

"Asami, Asami, I love you so much," he said.

"We may never see each other again," she pleaded. "Tomorrow you go to war, and I will return to Japan. Life is too short to deny what we desire most."

She took off her kimono and undergarments, and lay back on the bed urging him to love her. He ran his hands all over her willing body. The hot tropical night enveloped them. Their bodies were slippery with sweat as they writhed in pleasure on the narrow bed. At last, they lay quietly side by side, smiling at each other. He tenderly stroked her face. "I must go before I'm missed. Asami, I love you and I want to marry you. Will you be my wife?"

Asami burst into tears. "Yes, I will marry you. We will live here in Rabaul."

They fell into each other's arms, kissing and laughing.

"I will give up my wicked ways," she said. "Wang will not touch me if we are married."

"I'll be back before the end of the year. Don't go back to Japan, I beg you. Find an excuse not to go. Stay with Komine, you can trust him. I know it will all turn out well."

"I believe you, I will wait for you," she said. "When you return, I will take you in my arms and love you all night and every night."

He dressed quickly, promising to return from the expedition as soon as he could.

When he stepped outside, Lawson was waiting for him. They hurried back to barracks.

"I became a man tonight," said Milne, as they walked along.

Lawson stifled a laugh. "That sounded corny mate. What happened to all that stuff about waiting till you're married?"

Milne replied that he had not planned it to happen, it just did. "It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It unfolded like a play or a story. We were together, we kissed, and then before I knew it, our bodies came together. Oh, my friend, it was marvellous. I love her for eternity. We are to be married. You must be my best man. What about you and Freda, has she forgiven you?"

"There's nothing to forgive. She was a bit cold. She's not happy about being deported to Australia. What can I say? I reckon by the time we get back, she'll be interned in Australia. Such is life."

They slipped back to the barracks.

On a warm summer day in early December, Milne and Lawson joined two hundred other soldiers for the attack on the Solomons, the last bastion of German occupation in New Guinea.

Intelligence reports suggested that the Germans were planning to retreat into the jungle-clad hills to wage a guerrilla war.

The expedition set off from Rabaul with great ceremony. Everyone knew this would be the last military action of the New Guinea campaign. The wharf was crowded with locals and soldiers wishing the expedition members good luck. Holmes watched the soldiers march up the gangway. As the ship weighed anchor, he and his officers stood at attention and saluted. Lieutenant-Colonel Watson, who was leading the expedition, saluted back.

Milne and Lawson noticed to their dismay that Plumpton was also with the expedition. They tried to avoid him, knowing that although he hadn't brought charges against them, he hadn't forgotten the Wang incident. Plumpton was not the forgiving kind. He spotted them as they came up the gangway. They both snapped to attention. He gave them a severe look.

They went below decks to find a space to lay out their sleeping gear and stow their packs. The ship cast off.

Lawson held court regaling the others with stories about Kieta, the main town in the Solomons. "I was on a tramp steamer in these parts a few years back. I tell you, Kieta is a disease-ridden dump. It makes Rabaul look like a grand city. The natives there are different to the fellows in New Guinea. They are black as night, almost blue they are so black. The natives that live on the coast are peaceable. They're known as the saltwater people. They go fishing, grow taro and work on the plantations. But the clans living in the mountains are a different mob. They're always at war with one another. You see, when a bloke kills another bloke, it starts a blood feud that can go on for years. Each native belongs to a clan, and if one member of a clan does something bad to a member of another clan, all the members of the wronged clan seek revenge."

"Don't the police keep the peace?" asked a young soldier.

Lawson shook his head. "The police are powerless to stop 'em so they stay on the coast. In the thirty years the Germans have been on the island, they rarely ventured into the interior."

They talked until lights out.

At midday the following day, the soldiers leaning on the port side rail caught their first glimpse of the main island. The ship pulled into the wharf at Kieta.

The rumours of resistance proved to be untrue. Watson summoned the German district officer. Milne watched him arrive in his white tropical uniform under a flag of truce to surrender.

After the surrender, the troops disembarked and marched into the town. They occupied the government buildings and pulled down the German flag. Watson read the terms of the surrender to the civilians who had gathered in town. The soldiers rounded up all German officials and their families for internment in Australia. They permitted all other German civilians to go about their usual occupations on condition they took the oath of neutrality.

The following day, the ship returned to Rabaul leaving behind the garrison. Milne and Lawson stood on the wharf and watched it steam out to sea. They were now stuck in Kieta until the arrival of the replacement garrison.

Plumpton was disappointed that the Germans had not put up a fight. He had imagined winning military glory in battle. When he heard vague stories about fierce mountain tribes raiding plantations and peaceful coastal villages, he decided to undertake an aggressive patrol around Kieta to restore order.

He called Milne and Lawson to his office and told them they were going on a patrol to arrest rebellious natives. "I'll be watching the pair of you on this expedition," he said. "Don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes."

They turned to go.

"I haven't dismissed you yet," he shouted. "I could have the pair of you up on charges. Now I want you to listen carefully. The reason I'm an officer is because I'm smarter than the pair of you. I didn't get to be an officer by standing around with my hands in my pockets or sneaking off to frolic with shady women."

Lawson laughed as if Plumpton had said something funny.

Plumpton went red. "You find this amusing do you, Lawson? Don't try any of your pranks with me, or you'll be on report faster than you can um say...report." Lawson continued grinning. Plumpton gave them his fiercest look. "Report here first thing tomorrow morning, and we'll go arrest those uppity natives."

At dawn, the force formed up under Plumpton's watchful eye. To support them, he handpicked a detachment of local police officers. He decided that he would command the police and that there was no need for senior native police officers to come along.

Milne found this notion alarming. He did not think much of the local police force which only a few days before had been under German command. From the very start, he had a bad feeling about the expedition. The posturing of Plumpton did nothing to reduce his foreboding.

"These savages need to know that we are the new rulers and we won't tolerate anarchy," he blustered.

Lawson had seen through Plumpton from the start. "He wants to make 'imself look good. No doubt, he'll write up a report that will be all about his excellent leadership qualities. He's in this to improve 'is promotion prospects. He's a pathetic windbag and won't be 'appy til he gets us both killed."

"What do you reckon we should do?" asked Milne.

"Look out for ourselves is what we're gunna do. We'll obey orders but do the opposite."

When the soldiers and police had formed up in correct order, Plumpton waved them forward. He marched ahead calling on them to keep up. Milne and Lawson dutifully followed behind him. Behind them, the police strolled along with sour looks on their faces. Some of them belonged to the warring clans and they were not interested in arresting their own relatives.

Milne decided that everything Lawson had said about the island was correct. The feeling of eeriness never left him. The primitive jungle encroached on Kieta as if trying to reclaim it for nature. The leaden sky hung like a wet blanket over the town and stopped the hot air from rising. Late in the afternoon, a massive thunderstorm followed by a deluge of rain descended on them.

They sheltered in the first village they came across. The inhabitants were happy to see them. A young man invited them to shelter in his hut. It was a simple one-room hut mounted on posts. He introduced them to his young wife and three children. They sat on the floor of this primitive abode while the rain poured down outside. The children stared at them with wide eyes.

The rain stopped and the patrol moved on. Milne looked back and waved to the family. The patrol completed a sweep of the area around Kieta and returned to the coast. They entered a coconut plantation and met the German owner. He invited the patrol to stop and rest. Plumpton decided that they would stay overnight at the plantation and set up camp in the grounds.

In the early evening, the owner invited them for drinks on his spacious veranda. He said he'd been on the island for a few years and managed the plantation for another man. "This is the real pioneer life. We are a long way from everywhere – Germany, Australia, Japan and Rabaul. We have converted most of the coastal clans to Christianity but the mountain people prefer their old religions."

"Have you had much trouble from the natives?" asked Plumpton.

"Yes, some," he replied. "There is a mountain clan chief called Bowu who terrorises the coastal people. The very mention of his name sends fear through the local inhabitants. The district officer tried to hunt him down a few times but he was very skilful at avoiding our troops."

"Where does this Bowu live?" asked Plumpton.

He pointed vaguely to the hills and said that Bowu lived in the village of Kaumumu.

No doubt due to a rush of blood to the head, Plumpton announced that he was going to arrest Bowu. He imagined that Bowu was in a village just over the hill and would surrender when the patrol stormed into his village.

Milne and Lawson looked at each other with dismay. They lacked supplies for a long campaign, and Plumpton seemed to have convinced himself that he would arrest the rebellious Bowu and bring him back to Kieta in triumph.

The following morning, the patrol set off from the plantation at a cracking pace. A few hours into the march, the rains came thundering down. They arrived in a poor village that consisted of half a dozen decaying huts. The villagers fled at their approach. The huts at least provided some shelter. Milne and Lawson occupied one hut with Plumpton, while the police huddled in another. Plumpton was fussing around with a German map, a compass, and paper and pencil. "According to my calculations we should have been much further along by this time. We can't lounge about here all day. Milne, round up the police and let's get a move on."

The detachment set off in the deluge, slipping and sliding up the steep slope. The water was pouring down the slope in rivers threatening to wash them away. Ten minutes later, they stopped again while Plumpton checked the sodden map and pointed out the direction they should be heading. The rain stopped as suddenly as it had started. They were soaked through. Plumpton ordered some of the police to scout ahead, capture a couple of natives, and find out where Bowu's village was.

"This is bloody pointless," muttered Lawson. "What the hell are we tryin' to do? I joined up to fight Germans - not arrest natives. Let 'em sort out their own problems I say."

"What's all that yabber back there," barked Plumpton.

"Just wondering where the scouts were, sir," said Milne.

"I'll worry about that, you just try to keep up," he huffed.

It appeared to Milne that they were hopelessly lost. He had picked up enough Pidgin English to be able to follow the conversations of the police. He gathered from their talk that Plumpton did not know where he was going, and that he was heading in the wrong direction. They muttered that the scouts had probably found a warm dry cave in the jungle and were resting. Darkness descended on them at lightning speed, and the rain came down again. Plumpton stopped the march. He looked around for shelter but none presented itself. He ordered the police to find shelter for them, while he, Milne and Lawson waited beneath a large tree.

Hours went by. They were wet, hungry and exhausted. The only food they had were some hard biscuits. There was no sign of the police.

Milne tried to keep as dry as he could. He was not feeling well. Lawson pulled a groundsheet over their heads. Plumpton, whose ardour had cooled in the deluge, sat under the sheet with them muttering about the police. They heard raised voices and the sound of bodies crashing through the jungle.

"It's an attack!" shouted Plumpton. "Prepare for battle."

Milne and Lawson grabbed their rifles and stood prepared for anything.

"Don't shoot," said a voice. "We've found shelter ahead."

Some of the police emerged from the jungle and waved to them indicating they should follow them. A few minutes later, they came across the entrance to a large cave. The smell of cooking wafted from the cave entrance. They stepped inside and were surprised at how large the cave's interior was. The police were stoking a fire and cooking meat of unknown origin. Milne and Lawson chewed on lumps of burnt meat on the end of sticks.

"Not bad," said Lawson to a bemused police officer, as if he was in a restaurant. "Pass on my compliments to the chef."

After dinner, they took off their wet clothes and hung them on sticks near the fire. When Milne took off his soaking clothes, the police giggled at the sight of his white skinny body. Their laughing eyes lit up in the glow of the fire. Lawson gave him his blanket to keep him warm.

While they stared into the fire and warmed up, Plumpton delivered a sermon on the need to bring civilisation to the savages. This would be achieved he told them when all evildoers were arrested, given a fair trial and hung or shot. He then lectured them on the importance of duty, loyalty and trust. When he had finished his speech, he told them to go to sleep.

Milne woke next morning stiff and sore. He had a raging headache and was wet from sweating. Lawson did not look much better. Plumpton was dressed and ready at the cave's entrance going over the map, muttering to himself and pointing in different directions.

"What's our fearless leader doing?" Milne asked Lawson. "He appears to be having a discussion with himself."

Lawson chuckled. "He's off his rocker. We'd better play along with him. He's mad enough to have us shot."

"Ah, so our princess is finally awake is he?" said Plumpton to Milne. "While you were having a nice kip I've been planning the capture of Bowu and the other offenders. His village is just ahead. I've sent the police on up ahead."

"Sir, I don't feel so good," said Milne.

Plumpton adopted an ironical manner, which he did sometimes instead of shouting. "Aha, you don't feel well. Here we are within minutes of catching Bowu and you suddenly don't feel well. You can knock that nonsense off for a start. You don't fool me one bit, Milne. You and your mate are malingerers, and that's the truth of the matter. Get ready, the battle is at hand."

Milne stood up and nearly fainted. He managed to get dressed with difficulty. Lawson looked at him with concern. "You don't look so good. You should try to eat something, mate."

"I can't think of food. I've lost my appetite."

They followed behind their leader who set off at a cracking pace. He barged up the jungle track, convinced he was about to arrest Bowu. They could barely keep up. To Milne, the world looked different. It was as though he had woken up in another world. He staggered along the track not sure where he was or what he was doing.

Up ahead, Plumpton stopped and yelled at them to stop dragging their heels, that he would put them on report. After hours of aimlessly staggering around the jungle, they halted. Plumpton told them to be quiet and creep forward on their hands and knees. A little ahead, they saw the police spread out in the jungle lying on their stomachs. Through the thick foliage, they saw a village. Plumpton looked at his map. "This is Bowu's village. Prepare to storm in. Remember he and his men have rifles."

Plumpton blew his whistle and charged into the village. "You're all under arrest!" he hollered. Milne dragged himself forward.

A shot rang out. The police opened fire indiscriminately. Bullets were whizzing about everywhere. A bullet just missed Milne. One policeman was shot in the foot, and fell to the ground howling. The police searched the huts, and found a bewildered old man. The police beat him until Lawson intervened. The police demanded he tell them where Bowu was hiding. He was so frightened he couldn't speak. His confusion was not because he was trying to hide something – he had never heard of Bowu. Under further questioning, they discovered that Bowu's clan lived miles away. The old man said that when the villagers saw the police coming they ran into the jungle.

"You must think I was born yesterday," said Plumpton, "If your village is innocent, why did you all run away?"

The old man said that the villagers were terrified of the police who had a reputation for shooting first and asking questions later. This spurred Plumpton to give a long speech on how German rule was over, and that Australia was now in charge. The old man listened politely more out of fear than interest.

Plumpton then accused him of opening fire on the police. The old man said that none of the villagers owned a rifle. Plumpton realised that the police had opened fire wildly. He released the old man, and ordered the detachment to march on Bowu's village.

For the next two days, Plumpton led them on a meaningless meander through the rain soaked tropical jungles. He would not listen to advice from the local guides and he was unable to control the police who ignored orders. They wandered off for hours at a time claiming they were on the trail of the rebellious clan.

Milne had developed a dry cough, which worried Lawson. He told Plumpton that Milne probably had malaria and he needed treatment as soon as possible.

At first, Plumpton refused to believe him. He stopped the march and looked at Milne. He agreed that Milne really did look sick.

The search for Bowu was turning into a farce. They were running low on supplies. Plumpton decided to give up the quest to capture him and ordered them to return to Kieta. As they turned around, they saw a large group of warriors moving parallel to them. They kept their distance, but it appeared that they were waiting for the right moment to attack. To add to their difficulties, the rain thundered down. The ground turned quickly into slush. Milne staggered on in a delirious and weakened state.

Late in the afternoon, they came across a large village. Armed villagers formed up in battle lines blocking the entrance to the village.

The last thing any of them wanted was a battle. Even Plumpton had become morose and despondent. Lawson had virtually taken over the expedition. He sent one of the police officers, who could speak the local dialect, to the village to explain that they did not want trouble and that they were returning to Kieta. Negotiations went on for a few hours.

The warriors parted and fell back from the track. A guide offered to direct them on the road to Kieta. They were surprised to find that they were closer to Kieta than they thought.

As soon as they returned to Kieta, Milne was hospitalised. The doctor diagnosed malaria and put him on quinine. He was in a serious condition. Lawson sat by his bedside every day after guard duty talking to his friend and telling him he wasn't allowed to die yet. "It's not your time. Asami's waiting for you back in Rabaul. She would be sad if you died. Your parents would miss you. There are more adventures around the corner, you know. You just stick with me and you'll be right."

On the second day of his admission, his condition worsened. The doctor shook his head. When a medical orderly suggested that the medicine was wasted on Milne since he was near death, Lawson took him to task and was within seconds of knocking his block off. Sensibly, the orderly made sure Milne received his medicine.

Lawson never gave up on his friend. He kept talking about anything that came into his head. Each day the patients in the ward could not wait for his visit so they could hear more tales of adventure, mayhem and sheer high spirits.

By day four, Milne was showing signs of recovery. His fever had gone down and he opened his eyes. As he regained consciousness, he gagged on the medicine – liquid quinine dissolved in hydrochloric acid tasted bloody awful, he decided. Ten days after his admission to hospital, his condition had improved and he was able to get out of bed and walk around.

One morning Lawson rushed in with news – a new garrison was replacing them and they were going back to Rabaul. He told Milne to pretend he had fully recovered; otherwise, they would leave him behind in Kieta until he recovered. Milne left hospital the day before the new garrison was due to arrive.

When he returned to barracks, Plumpton summoned them. They were apprehensive about what might follow but as it turned out, they had nothing to fear.

"No need to stand on ceremony after what we've been through, eh?" he said, smiling. "I'll get straight to the point. There's no need to write a report on our expedition. It is obvious to me that the native police were conspiring with Bowu, and led us on a wild goose chase. As far as the army is concerned, we patrolled the perimeter around Kieta and restored order. We'll let the garrison deal with Bowu. No more said, eh chaps."

Lawson could not help himself. "So the truth of the matter is that you want us to lie about what really happened."

Plumpton squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "Not lie Lawson; just not tell the details of the story. However, if you two feel that you can't keep this between us, I would be happy to recommend that you stay behind in Kieta and join the new garrison for the duration of the war."

Now it was the turn of Lawson to squirm. "I see your point, sir. As far as we are concerned, we went on a routine patrol and restored order."

"Good chaps that will be all."

"And that's the truth of the matter," added Lawson smirking.

### Chapter 7

In late December, they were back in Rabaul. Milne went into hospital and the doctor prescribed another course of quinine. Although he had not fully recovered, he was determined to see Asami as soon as he could.

Lawson dropped in to see him. "So, you're still alive, mate."

"Only just; my head's still spinning. I want you to do me a favour. As soon as I'm well, I want to see Asami. Can you take a message to her?"

"Yeah, no worries, I can do that."

A few days later, Lawson returned with news about Asami. "I spoke to her. She's doin' really well."

"What did she say exactly?" he asked, impatiently. "Is she well, does she miss me, how does she look?"

"Bloody hell mate, one question at a time. She wants to see you before she returns to Japan. You should see 'er, she was radiant."

"Did you say she's returning to Japan?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so mate, there's nothing for her 'ere."

"That can't be right, she wouldn't leave me. She has agreed to be my wife. She knows if she returns to Japan, I'll never find her."

"You gotta face reality. It was never going to work out between you and Asami. And anyways, we're goin' home in a few weeks and a new garrison is replacing us."

"Well, I'm not going, and that's final. I'll ask Asami to stay here, and when my enlistment is up, I'll stay behind and marry her. We'll start a new life in Rabaul. I'll find work here."

Lawson took him by the shoulders and shook him gently. "Wake up to yourself, you're delirious and don't know what you're on about. It's not going to work out."

"You've never liked Asami," he shouted, almost in tears. "You can't stop me."

He climbed out of bed, but fell back. An orderly told them to stop the racket, and ordered him to get under the sheets.

"Look, I'll say one more thing," said Lawson. "Asami's only hope is to return to Japan and start her life again. When we go home, she'll have no one to protect her from Wang."

Milne remained silent.

"There's something else I need to talk to you about," said Lawson. "Wang is not happy about Asami returning to Japan. He's going around town saying that Asami will be punished for not paying her father's debts."

Milne grabbed Lawson's sleeve. "We have to save her. I know I can depend on you to help me. I'm going to discharge myself tomorrow and visit Asami. If you come with me, I'll appreciate it. If not, I'll go alone."

Lawson shook his head. "You're a bloody determined bastard, I'll give you that. I'll come along - on condition that you ask Asami what she wants. And we don't want a repeat of our last little caper where we ended up in a brawl."

Milne nodded. He laid his head on the pillow and fell asleep immediately.

In his gambling den, Wang fumed over the news that Asami was returning to Japan. "This is the gratitude I receive for looking after her," he said to his henchman, Scarface. "When her father fell on hard times, it was me that helped him with his debts by providing her with work."

"A shame she is returning to Japan," said Scarface, licking his lips. "She was your best girl. Men queued up to be with her. I shall miss her. The rest of the brothel girls are ugly old hags in comparison."

"Yes, she was a great find," said Wang. "I have invested a lot in her, and now it will be wasted."

"Some are saying you are weak," said Scarface. "They are saying Asami got away with paying back her debt. And you have done nothing about it."

"She has made me lose face. After all I have done for her."

"I hear that Milne and Lawson are back in Rabaul," said Scarface. "They are the soldiers who assaulted you in front of your family. That simpering puppy Milne is in love with Asami, and wants to claim her for himself."

Wang slammed his fist on the table. "That mangy dog! He assaulted me in my own home, upset my mother and my servants, and then accused me of entrapping Asami. Me, who has done so much for her. And the Australians accuse me of being a gangster. I'm a businessman providing entertainment for the people. I was humiliated at the trial. They call that justice."

"Perhaps there's a way of revenging yourself on Asami and Milne," said Scarface. "That way you would regain face in the community, and collect your debt."

"How so?" asked Wang.

"You could prevent Asami from going home. Hide her away. The garrison is returning to Australia - the new one will not care about her. That puppy Milne will be gone. She will have no choice but to work for you again."

"No, that is not enough to punish her and restore my reputation," said Wang. "Take Mei hostage and send a note to Asami that if she does not meet with me, Mei will be punished. I have a house on the outskirts of Rabaul, away from prying eyes." Wang chuckled at his deviousness. "Asami's a loyal girl and will rush to the aid of her friend without thinking of herself. Bring her to me. She must be punished for the disgrace she has brought on me."

"If you are to kill Asami, you will also have to kill Mei. No witnesses."

Wang shook his head. "No, Mei will be too scared to report the murder to the police."

Scarface set out through the hot tropical night for the Black Cat to kidnap Mei. He knocked on the door. Mei welcomed him, but explained the authorities had closed the club.

"Where is Freda?" he asked.

"She is out at the moment. She will be back soon. Sit down and have a drink."

Scarface smiled and sat down in the empty club.

Mei came back with a drink.

He drank slowly, taking noisy sips. They chatted amicably. Then he talked about the debt that Asami owed Wang. As he talked, his voice became angrier and angrier. "I am taking you hostage. You will be released in exchange for Asami." He leapt on her, bound her wrists, and dragged her off to Wang's gambling den. Wang was waiting for him.

"What do you want with me?"

Wang told her that she was bait to catch a bigger fish – Asami.

"But she has no money," cried Mei. "How can she pay you with something she does not have?"

"She will pay me with the only thing she has left."

"What do you mean...wait...you're not planning to murder her? Please no, not Asami, she is going home...I'd rather die than help you hurt her."

"Quiet woman, if you don't do as we say, you will die as well."

He gave Scarface the location of the hut on the outskirts of Rabaul and instructed him to tell Asami that Mei was a hostage and that if she wanted to see her friend alive again, she should come to the hut. He grabbed her arm, told her to be quiet, and took her to the hut.

Scarface hurried to Komine's house and waited until he was sure Asami was alone. He knocked on the door. She answered but greeted Scarface coldly. He told her that Wang wanted to see her before she returned to Japan. She refused and said there was nothing she wanted to say to him. Scarface told her that Mei was Wang's hostage, and that he would release her only if she came with him to see Wang. She hesitated for a moment. "What does he want with me? Why has he seized Mei?"

"He means you no harm," said Scarface. "He knew you would refuse to see him so he has taken Mei. He only wants to talk. He will not release Mei unless you come."

Asami's concern for her friend outweighed any fears she had for her own safety. She dressed quickly and left a note on the table saying she had to run an errand and would be back soon. They hurried through Chinatown. Scarface trotted along beside her, giving her the occasional sly look. The night closed in. The dirt road turned into a rough track. There were lonely houses spaced at intervals. The jungle loomed grim and dark along the track. She asked him why Wang had picked such an isolated place to meet with her. He shrugged and told her to hurry. They were both stumbling in the dark. The only light came from the sudden flashes of lightning. They heard the rumble of thunder. In the distance, Asami saw a house sitting on a hill. There were welcoming lights. She walked quickly towards it. He stumbled into a hole and she had to help him up. All she kept thinking about was Mei.

While Asami was dashing across Rabaul to release her friend, Milne and Lawson were heading for Komine's house. They strolled into Chinatown, not realising the danger she was in.

Although Milne's head was in a muddle, he was clear about one thing – he wanted to take Asami away from the clutches of Wang. He had not worked out how he was going to start a new life in Rabaul with her, but as he kept saying to Lawson, "Love conquers all."

When they arrived at Komine's house, Komine met them at the door. He told them Asami had gone on an errand, but he had expected her back a few hours ago and was getting worried.

They hurried to the Black Cat.

Milne knocked urgently on the door. Freda welcomed them. He impatiently asked if she knew where Asami was. She replied that she didn't. But she was worried about Mei who had disappeared.

Milne was beside himself with panic. His head was spinning. He was incapable of thinking straight. Almost in a delirium, he raced into her room. "Are you there Asami? Where could she be?"

Lawson put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and said they would find her. He suggested they go to Wang's gambling den. Before they left, Lawson had a few quiet words with Freda. She said that internment in Australia might be better than staying in Rabaul for the duration of the war. She told him her departure was imminent.

"Well, this is it old girl, Australia's not a bad place to live, even in an internment camp. And anyways, I'll come visit you when I'm back 'ome. It'll be just like the old days."

"I'd like you to visit; we've had some good times."

He promised that he would look her up when he returned to Australia. He turned to go.

"Don't I get a goodbye kiss?" she asked.

He looked a little embarrassed in front of Milne. He boldly stepped forward and gave her a big kiss on the lips. "Look after yourself old girl, we'll meet again I know it."

They hurried off to the gambling club, unaware that Asami was in grave danger. At first, a guard on the door refused them entry. Lawson pointed his rifle and threatened the guard who moved to one side. Milne dashed inside nearly tripping over a step. One of Wang's employees explained he was not there and he did not know where he was.

They decided to go to Wang's house. They dashed down the road and rushed up the stairs. Milne hammered on the door calling on Wang to show himself. A trembling servant opened the door and told them that he was not at home and he did not know where he was.

Back in the street, Milne and Lawson questioned some residents to find out if they had seen Asami or Mei. One man said he had seen Wang taking Mei out of town. "She looked upset, as if she didn't want to go with him," he recalled. He was curious and followed them to a house on the outskirts of Rabaul. He said he thought that perhaps Wang was opening a new brothel away from the prying eyes of the authorities. As he was returning to Rabaul, he had seen another woman and a man heading for the house. He did not recognise her, but thought she was Japanese. The man with her he recognised as one of Wang's men, with a scarred face.

Milne asked him to show them where the house was. The three of them hurried out of town. The thunder was booming and a strong wind shook the jungle. Lightning flashed across the sky, as they stumbled along the rough dirt track.

Not far ahead of them, Asami turned into the path leading to the front door of the hut. A wave of fear came over her. _This could be a trap,_ she thought. She hesitated for a few moments, torn between wanting to save her friend and fearing for her own life. What was she to do? Her instinct for survival told her to turn around and flee back to Rabaul to the sanctuary of Komine's house. There she would be beyond the clutches of Wang. She would eventually return to Japan and start her life again. She almost turned around. _But what of Mei_ , she thought. _It is me, not Mei, he wants to punish. Why should she be punished for my failure to pay my debt? What is the worst Wang can do to me?_

Scarface was standing next to her trying to catch his breath. "What is it?" he asked. "Why have you stopped? You must not fear Mr. Wang."

"I fear nothing," she said resolutely. "If it is my karma to meet my end here, then it must be."

She strode towards the front door. As she approached, she saw two dark figures on the verandah. She recognised Mei, her mouth gagged. Wang was standing next to her. He called out to her to come into the house. "I will not harm you or Mei," he added.

Scarface gripped her arm and cackled. "He just wants to talk to you. He's waiting for you."

As she walked through the open door, Wang and Mei followed her in. Scarface slammed the door behind them. She looked around the shabby hut. A lone flickering lantern dimly lit the room. Two chairs sat against the back wall. Wang removed Mei's gag and untied her hands. She ran to Asami and they tearfully embraced.

"You should not have come; you should have stayed in Rabaul."

Scarface pulled them apart and slapped Mei hard across the face. "Shut up bitch."

Wang held up his hand. "There is the question of your debt to me, Asami. Do you think I would let you go back to Japan without paying me?"

"Why must I be responsible for my father's debt? I provided my services to you. But the debt was never reduced."

"Your father left a large debt. You understand that I cannot let you free without paying it, it's bad for business."

He turned to Scarface and said, "Tie them to the chairs."

Scarface grinned wickedly and forced both women to sit side by side. He bound them hand and foot and then tied them to the chairs.

"I have no money, no property," pleaded Asami. "If I return to Japan, I will be able to earn money and pay you back. You have my word."

He threw his head back and laughed. "You must think me a fool, woman. You say you have no money or property to repay your debt. You do own something that I will take in payment – your life."

He walked towards her, his cruel hands held out in front.

"No, no, please no," she begged.

"It is too late for your tears. Prepare to die."

He gripped her soft neck. Her eyes filled with terror. She looked into his cold, merciless eyes. He released his grip. He turned to Mei and warned her that if she told anyone what happened to Asami, she would die as well. He put his hands around Asami's throat.

Asami looked into his eyes. "I will go back to your brothel, if you let me live. I will pay back the debt."

Wang released his grip and pondered her offer.

Meanwhile, Milne and Lawson were stumbling around in the dark towards the hut. They rushed up the pathway and burst through the front door. In the flickering light of the lantern, Milne saw Wang bending over what looked at first to be a mannequin tied to a chair.

Wang heard them and swung around. He turned to Scarface and said, "Shoot them!"

Scarface fumbled in his pocket for his pistol. He was still struggling to pull it out when Lawson king-hit him in the side of the head. The blow knocked Scarface unconscious and he collapsed on the floor.

Milne saw Asami tied to the chair. He charged at Wang, who had hold of her throat, and knocked him to the floor. Wang rolled across the floor and leapt up. He pulled out a knife, and held it in his trembling hand.

Lawson stood next to Milne. "You untie Asami and I'll deal with this scumbag."

Wang backed into the corner of the room and bared his teeth. "If you touch me, I'll report you."

Lawson laughed at Wang's pathetic knife. "You're going to get the thrashing of a lifetime."

Milne quickly untied Asami. She fell into his arms weeping and kissing him. "Oh my darling, you saved my life. Wang was going to murder me."

He hugged her tightly. "Everything will be all right now, Asami. Wang will never bother you again. We will be together."

True to his word, Lawson easily disarmed Wang and gave him a thrashing he would never forget. All through the thrashing, he warned Wang that if he touched a hair on Asami's head he would give him another beating. When he was done, he dragged the limp Wang out the door and dumped him in the front yard. He walked over to Scarface, who was starting to regain consciousness, picked him up by the scruff of the neck, dragged him through the front door, and dropped him in a pile next to Wang.

Then he untied Mei and took her gag off. "Oh please, how can I thank you for saving me?"

Lawson grinned. "Well I can think of a way..."

Milne cried out and fell to the floor still holding Asami. She did not have the strength to hold him up.

Lawson rushed over and looked with concern at his mate. "He's in a bad way. He hasn't recovered from malaria. You'll have to help me get him to hospital."

Mei, Asami and Lawson hurried back to Rabaul carrying him. He was delirious - raving incoherently about Wang, Asami and Freda. Lawson could not make out what he was saying. His words came out in a broken flow of half sentences, and scattered words. He fainted. Lawson put him down and revived him. They lifted him on to his back, and he carried him to the hospital. At the hospital entrance, he thanked Asami and Mei for their help and told them to return home. He explained that he and Francis would be returning to Australia in a matter of days.

The doctor put Milne on quinine immediately and stabilised his condition. Lawson stayed by his bed, hoping his mate would recover.

Asami and Mei returned to the Black Cat to make sure Freda was all right.

When they arrived, Freda was anxiously waiting for news. Asami told her the story about the attempt by Wang to strangle her, the arrival of Francis and Cliff to the rescue, and the beating Cliff had given Wang and Scarface.

Freda nodded approvingly. "Good, my man gave Wang and Scarface what they deserved. They won't trouble us again."

She also had news. She had to report to military authorities that evening for deportation to Australia the following day.

"I'm already late, my friends. I couldn't go until I heard what happened to you. I have sold the Black Cat. I didn't get much for it, but the little I have I'll split between us."

Asami and Mei at first refused, but Freda insisted. "You've worked as hard as I have." She handed each a purse of money. "What will you do now, Asami?"

"I will return to Mr. Komine's protection until I can return to Japan. I must go. Please, if you see Francis in Australia, tell him I will love him always, but this is the parting of the way. Tell him he must forget me and get on with his life."

"Asami, I doubt if he will ever forget you."

Asami bowed her head. "Then fate which brought us together will bring us back together one day."

"What about you Mei?"

"I have relatives in China. I will make my way there and forget this place. This money will buy my passage home."

Freda hugged and kissed them. "I hope that one day we will be together again – the three of us, and Francis and Cliff. I will dream of that time. Goodbye."

She walked out the front door, looked once more at the Black Cat, and walked towards the wharf.

When Francis regained consciousness, he was astonished to be lying in a clean Sydney hospital bed. He looked around in bewilderment. His weeping mother was sitting by his bed. His father was standing behind her, shaking his head. "I told you no good would come of this. I told you that before you left."

"Quiet father," she said. "Look, our boy has come back to us."

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You're home Francis," sobbed his mother.

"I was in Rabaul...I woke up...I was on a ship...has this been a dream? Where is Cliff?"

"There, there son, you've been through a rough time," said his father. "Malaria, ammonia..."

"Pneumonia," corrected his mother.

"Pneumonia, dysentery, and tropical diseases they don't have names for yet. You're home safe, son, and that's what matters. You've done your bit, no more war for you."

Milne struggled to remember what had happened to him. "What about Cliff, did he make it?"

"Yes, Cliff visited you several times. He stayed by you on the journey home and made sure you were all right. He's staying with us until he gets settled."

"Who's Asami?" asked his father. "You called her name again and again."

He tried hard to remember but he could not.

The doctor arrived and told his visitors it was time to go.

"You're lucky to be alive," said the doctor. "It will take you months to recover."

He checked him over and moved on to the next patient.

A week later, Lawson visited him. He was his usual cheery self. "Bloody hell, I'm buggered if I know how you survived. I thought you was a goner for sure."

Milne was overjoyed to see his friend. "I don't remember much, I recall the jungles of the Solomons, and that bloody insane Plumpton, now its coming back to me. That bastard had us marching around the jungle for nothing. That's the last thing I remember. What happened next?"

"You went straight from the ship into Rabaul hospital. Then you discharged yourself because you wanted to see Asami."

"Yes, I remember now. Bits of it come back to me like a dream. When I wake up, I can only remember fragments. My parents said when I was unconscious I called out Asami's name. At first, I couldn't remember who she was but now it has come back to me. What happened to her? I remember the isolated house on a hill. Asami was tied to a chair, oh my God!"

"We were just in time old mate, Wang was about to do her in."

"What happened after that?"

"We carried you back to hospital in Rabaul. They poured more medicine into you. Then you got dysentery. You know, old Holmes visited you in hospital. Not a bad bloke for an officer."

"So what happened to Asami?"

"After she helped you to hospital, she went back to Komine's. I saw Freda the next day just before she was deported. Asami asked her to tell you that she will always love you, but she must return to Japan. She told you to get on with your life."

Milne nodded sadly. "Some good has come out of it then. She is free from her debt and is beyond the reach of Wang."

"Everything is beyond the reach of Wang."

"You don't mean you..."

"No I gave him a thrashing - I didn't kill him. When word got around what had happened that night, a rival gang moved in to take over Wang's brothels. To cut a long story short, he and Scarface were murdered. The new garrison arrived and we shipped out for good old Australia. You were sick as a dog on the ship. You had a raging fever for most of the time."

"How long have I been in hospital in Sydney?"

"Well let's see, I've lost track of time. A couple of weeks."

"What about the others, the blokes who were with us in New Guinea?"

"Most of them have reenlisted under old Holmes. They're here in Sydney training. While we was in Rabaul, thousands of our boys left for Egypt. Something big is brewing I reckon."

Milne slowly turned the information over in his mind. "What about you, are you going to reenlist?"

"I think I've seen enough of war to last me a lifetime."

He struggled to absorb all the information. "What happened to Freda?"

"She's in an internment camp in Sydney as it 'appens. I'm planning to visit her. I'll see if I can get her released because she ain't a threat to anyone. And then me and her can get back into it." Lawson smirked at the thought of he and Freda reunited, preferably in bed.

Milne became tired. He found it difficult to stay awake for long periods. He closed his eyes for a few minutes. When he opened them, Lawson had gone.

"He said goodbye to you and said he'll see you again," said the patient next to him. "He didn't want to wake you."

He lay back on his pillow. He could not believe how tired he was. Even the act of picking up a newspaper or eating exhausted him. He slipped back into a troubled sleep, losing track of time. Thoughts surged through his head like electric currents.

He dreamt he was in the jungle at night wandering alone and lost. All around him, the jungle seemed to enclose him in its humid, dripping grasp. He heard a rustling sound and stood frozen to the spot. He heard someone calling out to him. Dashing into the jungle in the direction of the voice, he recognised Asami - tied to a tree. She implored him to help her. He ran towards her, but sank in a pool of mud. He sank to his hips and the more he struggled, the more he sank. Then out of the shadows, two figures emerged. He recognised Wang and his evil henchman, Scarface. Scarface pointed at him and laughed. "Look he can't save her, he is drowning."

Wang walked towards Asami. She pleaded with Milne to save her but he could not free himself. The mud was up to his neck.

"Now it is time to pay your debt," said Wang, as he placed his hands around her throat.

Milne shouted, "No, no, don't kill Asami! Spare her..." He felt someone shaking him. He was not up to his neck in mud in a New Guinea jungle. A hand was on his shoulder. A soft voice was calling to him. He opened his eyes. A young nurse was smiling at him. "You're safe, nothing is wrong, you were having a nightmare."

"Where am I?" he asked.

"In hospital, you're safe," she said softly.

He looked at her. "Have I met you before? You look familiar. Do we know each other?"

"Nurse Mary Batten is my name."

She was a short, slender girl about his age. She had bright green eyes and freckles. When she smiled, she tilted her head a little to one side. That smile was enough to make him feel better. He sat up in bed. She helpfully pushed the pillows behind his back to prop him up.

"Mary Batten? We went to school together! I don't believe it. You moved away and broke my heart!"

"Broke your heart? I didn't realise you were in love with me. We were only twelve years old."

Milne's cheeks burned a lighter shade of red. "No, I didn't mean I was in love with you...that is I was sweet on you."

Mary laughed. "Yes, I remember. My family moved to another suburb. According to your file, you were in New Guinea. What was it like?"

He thought hard to describe his experiences. "We won New Guinea." That was all he could think of. He thought a bit more and added, "I got malaria."

"But what was the country like? I've heard so many stories about life in New Guinea; I'd love to go there."

"A beautiful country," he said. "There's a lot of jungle, and rain. Many Chinese and Japanese live in Rabaul." His voice trailed off. He did not want to talk about Asami and his adventures at the Black Cat.

She could tell he was not telling her everything. He was hiding a great secret. His adventures in New Guinea intrigued her and she wanted to know more.

He changed the subject and asked her why she became a nurse.

"I've always wanted to be a nurse, since I was a little girl. I'm hoping that if I work hard enough, I'll serve overseas."

He nodded and leaned back. "You know I feel better than I did last week. Maybe I'm getting better and will be able to get out of bed."

While they were talking, Lawson arrived. "So how's the malingerer gettin' on," he said, gently hitting Milne on the shoulder with a rolled up newspaper.

Mary knitted her brow. She adopted a serious tone. "He's not a malingerer; he's a very sick boy. He is lucky to be alive. Don't make fun of my patients."

"Awfully sorry," said Lawson, in mock apology. "I was with him in New Guinea. I know what happened."

Mary lightened up. "What was New Guinea like?"

"It was a hell of a place, and no mistake," said Lawson, "the jungle was full of mad Germans and cannibal tribes. It was hard, but one after the other we defeated them all. Young Francis here was a bloody hero."

Milne beamed with pride. He decided not to contradict Lawson's version of events.

"You must tell me about your adventures. I love reading stories about faraway places. I'd like to go to New Guinea some day."

"It's no place for ladies," replied Lawson.

Mary smirked and rolled her eyes.

Lawson unrolled his newspaper and held it up for Milne to see.

On the front page was a picture of Australian troops standing below a pyramid in Egypt. "As I said, something big is brewing over there. They reckon our boys and the Poms are going to attack Turkey. I tell you it will be on for young and old."

"My eldest brother Harry is in Egypt with the army, and my other brother George is training in Sydney," said Mary.

"I wish I could be there with them," he said. "I keep asking the doctors when I'll be well enough to reenlist. Every time I think I'm feeling better, I seem to get worse. I can't shake this damn malaria and I'm sick of it."

"The army won't take you back until you've recovered," said Mary. "Now, I must be off on my rounds. And you behave yourself Cliff Lawson. I won't have any nonsense in my ward."

Milne and Lawson watched her walk away.

"She's a bit of all right, mate," said Lawson.

"Keep your hands off her, she's a decent girl and wouldn't want to have anything to do with you."

Lawson shrugged his shoulders. "She's not my type. More your type, eh mate. She looks like a good Catholic convent girl. Right up your street, eh."

"I can't think of that sort of thing. I have to get well as soon as I can. Anyway, read me some of the newspaper."

Lawson sat on the bed and read the newspaper with great enthusiasm. A doctor interrupted his reading. "You look better today Mr. Milne. The worst is over. If you keep improving at this rate, you'll be discharged soon."

When the doctor had moved on, Milne asked Lawson to continue reading the newspaper. Lawson handed the newspaper to him.

Milne opened the paper and read the articles about the adventures of Australian soldiers in Egypt. The stories fired up his imagination, and filled him with determination to get well and reenlist.

Over the following weeks, Mary looked in on him every day, and they became good friends. He called her his little sister. Mary was happy enough being called his little sister. The truth was she rather liked young Francis. There was a quality about him; an honesty that she felt she could trust. He had been through a hard time but seemed to be bouncing back. While she pretended she'd forgotten that he liked her all those years ago, she admitted to herself that she had held a torch for him. Now here he was after all these years.

A week after his last visit, Lawson dropped in to see him. He looked around, "Where's that sweet young nurse?"

"Have you come to visit me or to see Nurse Batten?"

"Ah, just joking old mate. In any case, I'm visiting Freda soon, that Teutonic maiden in distress. The authorities were reluctant to let me see her in the internment camp. They thought I was a spy or something. I showed 'em me enlistment papers and they changed their tune. Being an ex-soldier opens doors in this town."

"What are you doing to earn money?" asked Milne.

"I got a job down the wharves. It's hard yakka, but good pay. The wharfies are a great bunch of blokes. After work, we head down to Mrs. MacDonald's bar in Elizabeth Street. We have a great time, talking politics and drinking. Some of 'em don't think much of the war."

Mary bustled into the ward. "Visiting hours were over ten minutes ago young man. Be off with you or I'll have you escorted from the premises."

"I'll do anything you tell me to ma'am. If you want me to go, I'll go. If you want me to stay, I'll stay. If you want me to go, and come back in a few minutes, I'll do that as well. If you want me to marry you, I'll do that, but I didn't realise you loved me so."

"That's enough of that nonsense," said Mary. "If you were the last man on earth, I wouldn't marry you. Now off you go you naughty man."

Lawson laughed as he left and waved to both of them.

"That friend of yours is a rogue," she said, when he had gone. "He's got a cheek."

"He's all right; bit of a scallywag is all. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't have survived New Guinea."

"Well, how's Mr. Milne getting along nurse?" asked the doctor. "He seems much better. Let's have a look at you. No fever, I think we can send you home now."

The news came as a shock to him. He had grown accustomed to the hospital and enjoyed the company of Mary. While he did want to get well, he didn't think he had fully recovered.

"Yes, no doubt you'll be eager to enlist and get back into it eh, young fellow. Yes, if I was your age..."

"I'm not sure I feel well enough yet," he replied, looking weakly at Mary for support.

"Nonsense man!" exclaimed the doctor, adopting a less friendly tone. "There's a war on, we need young chaps like you with military experience to get in there and give the Hun a damn good box around the ears."

"I'm really not quite up to it," he said, looking for sympathy. "You see I'm very weak. And my mind is in turmoil. I think the malaria has seeped into my brain...I hallucinate. I have dreadful memories."

"Now you listen to me young fellow, don't give me any of that namby-pamby nonsense. I've stamped men A1 much less fit than you. The only illness you're suffering from is a lack of moral fibre."

Milne was starting to get angry. Who did this doctor think he was to question his bravery? He did his best to control his temper. "You don't understand, I want to enlist but my body is weak. And my mind is all messed up."

The doctor decided he had spent enough time with Milne and turned to go. "Pull yourself together man, and try to forget. Come on nurse, next patient."

Try to forget. Milne lay back in his bed. His experiences in New Guinea seemed like a distant dream, an unreal event. At times, he wondered if it happened at all. He wondered what had happened to Asami. Had she returned to Japan or was she still in Rabaul? His mind was stuck in the past. The future was something he might, well, consider in the future.

The doctor discharged him a few days later. His parents helped him home. He knew he had a long recovery ahead of him. The only thought going through his head was that he would return to Rabaul one day and find Asami. He did not know how or when, but he knew it was something he had to do.

THE EARTH OF ANZAC COVE

### Chapter 8

Milne sat by the café window absentmindedly watching people hurry by wrapped in raincoats, and clutching umbrellas. A horse and cart rumbled by. The driver, wearing a large blue overcoat, cracked his whip. The window fogged up, and the figures rushing by became blurs.

He was waiting for Cliff. He had not seen him for three weeks, and missed his old friend.

He sipped his tea and glanced at the café patrons. An old man with a nicotine-stained walrus moustache was urging a younger man, possibly his son or nephew, to join the army to, 'do your bit for the Empire.' Two women at the table next to him were talking about their sons, both of whom were in Egypt with the army. One woman told the other woman that her son hinted in a letter that something big was about to happen, and soon he expects his country to call on him to do his duty. At another table, three young men and a young woman were talking loudly about the war. One man told the others that the war would be over in a few weeks. He claimed he had inside knowledge that the British, French and Australians were going to attack Turkey and capture Constantinople.

Rumours about an impending battle involving Australian troops had been circulating for weeks. Everyone seemed to know someone who had an uncle, a son or a brother preparing for the big attack.

Milne did not know it then but the week before, thousands of Australian, New Zealand, Indian, British and French troops were aboard two hundred ships massed off the Greek island of Lemnos waiting for the order to go in at Gallipoli. As the weather warmed up and the sun came out, the ships headed towards the Turkish coast and fanned out. The ships stood off the coast in preparation for simultaneous dawn landings on Sunday 25 April.

For the boatloads of Australian soldiers heading for the beach that fateful morning, they could see the grim mountain range of Sair Bair towering above the shore. All was quiet. As the boats neared the beach, machine gun and rifle fire swept down on them. Many soldiers died on the boats. Those who survived leapt into the shallow water and charged up the beach. Some charged into the hills trying to come to grips with their enemy. They ran into rugged ridges where they were sitting ducks for the enemy who fired down on them from entrenched positions on the hills. The Anzacs fixed bayonets and attacked. Bullets and shrapnel cut ghastly holes in the waves of advancing soldiers. From the sea, British and Australian naval forces shelled the hills.

He drifted into a trance. The café walls felt like they were closing in on him, the voices becoming louder in the confined space. He had an urge to leap up and rush out the door to breathe the fresh, wet air.

In the background, a familiar loud voice floated over the noise. Lawson walked towards him smiling. "Well, if it isn't me little mate," he said in a booming voice. "It seems like a thousand years ago we was running round the jungles of New Guinea."

"What'll you have, love?" interrupted the waitress.

"Tea and toast thanks sweetheart...have we met before?" he said sitting down.

She stood back and looked him up and down critically. She shook her head.

"What are you doin' after work – maybe we can get to know each other."

She laughed and walked off.

"You haven't changed, I see. Still the same old Cliff. What happened to Freda? Last I heard she was deported from Rabaul and interned in Sydney."

"Yeah, but that's not a big deal. I'm planning to have her out of that hellhole soon."

"You're going to help her escape? You can't do that! It's against the law."

"You haven't changed much either. Laws were made to be broken. Not much point in 'em otherwise. Anyways, she's not a threat to anyone. I'm visiting her next Tuesday, that Teutonic maiden in distress."

Milne could tell that Lawson felt responsible for what had happened to her. He reminded him that her life would have been much worse if she'd stayed behind in Rabaul. At least in an internment camp she was safe.

"So how's your little nurse?" asked Lawson mischievously. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell. I haven't seen Mary since the hospital discharged me. She's a good friend. She's like a sister to me."

"A sister!" He was about to say something but he could tell from the serious look on Milne's face that he was not in the mood to talk about Mary. "Look, I'll say one thing. Why don't you find Mary and talk to her. You two got on well."

He missed Mary. In his last weeks in hospital recovering from malaria, they had become friends.

The waitress brought Lawson's order. He whispered something to her. She shook her head and told him to behave himself. He laughed wickedly. Milne rolled his eyes.

He asked him if he was thinking of reenlisting in the army.

Lawson leaned back on his chair and took a sip of tea. "Not at the moment. I've done me bit for King and country. No, Cliff Lawson is gonna get on with his life. As I said when I saw you last, I'm working down the wharves with a great bunch of blokes. Lot of 'em are Irish and don't think much of the war. A couple of 'em are members of the Wobblies. They introduced me to other members. We have a great time, talking politics and drinking."

"What are the Wobblies?"

"They're like a social club dedicated to drinking and having a good time. Wobblies is short for Industrial Workers of the World."

"Sounds a bit serious, you never struck me as a political type."

"No, I'm not. I'm more interested in the social side of it. They 'ave lots of meetings and drink like bloody fish. They talk big but that's about all. Why don't you come to a meeting, you can hear what they stand for yourself."

"We'll see..." he replied without enthusiasm.

Lawson changed the subject and asked what he was doing with himself.

Milne said his homecoming was a difficult time. He had not settled back into home life. He was irritable and quick to anger. His mother tiptoed around him. His father told him to 'wake up to yourself and get back to work.' He had returned to his old job at the bank, but he found the work dull and repetitious. After his experiences in New Guinea, his old life seemed boring. Many of his co-workers and friends had volunteered for the services. He told Lawson that if he felt better, he would volunteer for the army to get away from the monotony of his life.

"Listen to me mate," said Lawson. "Go find Mary. You're at a loose end. Talk to her."

Milne nodded and the two friends parted promising to keep in touch.

He walked to his tram stop, and caught the tram to work. He arrived dead on time at the bank, as he did every working day. When he first started at the bank, he was the proudest bloke in the street. Now he was bored and lost interest in his work. He made simple mistakes that he would never have made before. He watched the clock. The moment his shift ended, he was out of there.

After work, he walked the streets of Sydney alone, deep in thought. He walked by the hospital where Mary worked on the off chance that he might bump into her. He had rehearsed in his head what he would say to her.

As he walked towards the hospital, he saw her coming out of the entrance. For a few moments, he felt confused. His heart beat faster. He followed her hesitantly down the street trying to catch up. Stopping, he had second thoughts. _She might not welcome me striking up a conversation in the street,_ he thought. _What am I going to say to her?_ He finally resolved to speak to her. "Mary, hello Mary," he called out, walking as fast as he could.

She stopped and turned around in surprise. Her face lit up when she recognised him. "Mr. Milne, walking around in the world."

"Yes, I'm feeling better. Can we talk somewhere?"

She said there was a café nearby. They stepped into the warm, snug café and ordered tea.

"I'm sorry I missed you when I was discharged, I wanted to thank you for all you did for me."

"You look much better. I'm glad you came looking for me. I have been wondering how I might find you again. I liked the way you called me your little sister. Look, what are you doing now? Come home with me and have dinner. I told my parents about you. Mum and Dad love having guests for dinner and they'll make a great fuss of a returned soldier."

He agreed and they walked to her house, a neat terrace on a quiet street. Mary bounded through the door to announce his arrival. Her mother, a small, slender woman in her forties, met him at the door. She warmly greeted him and wanted to know everything about him at once. She took him by the arm and guided him into the tiny lounge room. Mary's father was sitting in a chair smoking a pipe and reading his paper. He greeted Milne and insisted he stay for dinner. "We have little, but what we have, you're welcome."

He put down his newspaper and gave him a hard look. "So where did you serve and how do you know Mary?"

Milne described the battles he fought in, the jungle conditions, and the malaria that struck him down. He added that he met Mary while he was recovering in hospital and they had become friends. "You know, your daughter is an angel of mercy, sir. All the soldiers in the ward said the same thing. Without her encouragement, I would not have recovered as quickly as I did. In a few weeks, I should be well enough to reenlist."

As he spoke, Mary's mother continually popped her head out of the kitchen to listen. Mary went upstairs to change out of her uniform and returned a few minutes later. She helped her mother in the kitchen. Mary's younger brothers joined them.

"I remember reading about the New Guinea campaign," said her father. "We sure gave the Germans what for, eh. That's the way to fight a war."

"Dinner's ready," announced Mary.

They squeezed around the small dining table. Mary placed bowls of steaming potatoes, vegetables, and lamb chops on the table. Everyone talked at once, over the top of each other. He remarked that he was an only child and was not accustomed to such a boisterous dinner table. They found it hard to believe that such a small family could exist. Throughout dinner, Mary cast the occasional glance towards him. While the rest of the family didn't notice, the significance was not lost on her mother.

After dinner, Mary's father invited Milne for a smoke in the lounge room. "You seem a steady young chap. What are your intentions towards my daughter?"

Milne protested that he had no intentions towards his daughter and that he saw her as a friend.

"Yes, there seems to be no shortage of suitors for Mary. I wouldn't give half of 'em the time of day. Nasty, pimply creatures with no prospects. I take one look at 'em and if I don't like 'em, out they go. That's the way it is with me. None of 'em is good enough for my daughter. And I know what's on their dirty little minds."

Milne smiled politely. "Yes, young chaps today have no self-control."

"You know Francis, I like you. You look like you have a steady head on your shoulders. You'd need that in the bank. I bet a young ambitious chap like you has promotion prospects. You'll need to earn good money to keep my daughter in the way she's accustomed to live. Any time you want to come for dinner, you come along. Off you go now; Mary has to work tomorrow on the early shift."

Milne wondered if he had joined the list of 'nasty pimply creatures' her father was fond of tossing out. He asked if he could say goodbye to Mary before he left.

He went into the kitchen and thanked Mary's mother for the outstanding dinner, complimented her on her cooking and anything else that came into his head.

Mary walked him to the front door, with her mother, father and brothers following behind them. He asked if they could meet again soon. Mary looked at her parents who agreed they could. He asked if he might call on Sunday and take Mary for a walk in Hyde Park. Her father suggested that they have a picnic as long as the whole family accompanied them. Milne happily agreed – not that he had a choice.

As he walked home, he felt pleased with himself. He had renewed his friendship with Mary, and met her parents.

Next morning he woke with a smile on his face. He lay in bed with his hands behind his head recalling the evening. The rest of the week flew by. He went to work with a spring in his step every morning.

On Sunday morning, he put on his best suit and hat. He posed in front of the mirror and set his hat at a jaunty angle. Satisfied that he had the angle right, he set off. When he arrived, the household was in uproar as they prepared for their picnic in the Botanical Gardens. Mary was still getting ready and her young brothers were arguing over clothes. Milne sat happily in the midst of the mayhem. The family loaded up with blankets and picnic gear. They waited patiently for Mary.

Her father muttered, "Here comes her majesty," as Mary came down the stairs.

Mary looked beautiful. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders in auburn waves. She wore a dainty hat with flowers tucked in the band, a long black pleated skirt, and a white shirt with a little black tie. She glided down the stairs in lace-up black boots.

"Doesn't Mary look a picture," he blurted out. When he realised he had overstepped the bounds of propriety, he blushed furiously. Mary's father pretended to look severe, but burst into laughter when he saw Milne's embarrassment.

The family walked to the tram stop and rode some of the way to the picnic spot. They set out on foot through Hyde Park and arrived at the Botanical Gardens where they found a secluded spot and set up their picnic rug and basket.

He noticed that Mary's mother had brought along a framed picture of her eldest son, Harry, who was fighting at Gallipoli. He had noticed her take it down from the wall before they left the house. She carefully placed it on one corner of the blanket.

She noticed him looking at the picture. "We want to share our family life with dear Harry. We want him to know that he will always be with us no matter where he is."

It was a beautiful autumn day. Mary's young brothers wrestled and climbed trees. He and Mary went for a walk before lunch. They strolled along the sea wall. Yachts and ferries sailed on the harbour, which sparkled in the sun.

"Francis, I'm thinking of volunteering to serve in Australian military hospitals overseas," she said casually.

He stopped and looked at her.

"They are short of experienced nurses," she continued. "They want nurses who can stand up to pressure. I think I can do it."

"Where would you go?"

"Could be anywhere – Egypt, Malta or England – wherever I am needed."

"It's a big step; it's not something to take lightly. You've been doing your bit helping the wounded in Australia."

"I've been thinking about it. The wounded need help when they are brought in from the battlefield."

"Yes, I see what you mean. When are you thinking of joining?"

"Soon, I haven't told Mum and Dad yet. They are still worrying about Harry. They will be upset and won't want me to go."

Her mother called them for lunch.

"So young fellow," said Mary's father, "when are you reenlisting?"

"Soon as I get my strength back," he replied. He had pushed the war to the back of his mind.

After lunch, Mary's mother and father went for a walk, arm in arm, while he and Mary had charge of her brothers. Mary hitched up her skirt and climbed a tree. They played a game of cricket. At that moment, the war seemed a million miles away.

He and Mary sat on the picnic rug to rest. They had a good view of the harbour. They watched the ferries and sailing boats plying the water. In the distance, they could see her parents returning, still arm in arm, walking slowly. The afternoon wore on. They packed up the gear and headed home. He and Mary said goodbye under the watchful eye of her father. They agreed to meet again.

A week later, he met Mary after work. They went for a walk and had a snack in a café. Mary didn't mention going overseas again, but he dreaded that one day she would. Over the following two weeks, they spent as much time together as possible. They went for long walks in Sydney's parks and gardens, and caught a ferry to Manly where they spent the day walking along the promenade.

He had grown fond of her. She had a quality that he could not put his finger on \- the way she smiled and tilted her head to one side when she looked at him, her laugh, her pretty face, her voice, her shapely figure. When he was with her, all his thoughts centred on her as if she was the only person in the world. He put off the idea of reenlisting, despite wanting to be with his mates in Gallipoli. The thought of being away from her was unbearable. He did not want thousands of miles to separate them. He wanted to be with her all the time, and forget the war.

Although he felt desire for her, he had not summoned up the courage to make a move. He was not sure how she would react. She was a proper girl and might not welcome his fumbling hands.

One day, they went for a walk in the Botanical Gardens. In this leafy oasis, there were several secluded nooks and crannies where young lovers can find privacy. He knew such a nook surrounded by flowering wattle trees and bushes covered in red bottlebrushes, with vines growing up tree trunks. He led her there, and they sat on a park bench, alone at last.

He moved closer to her on the seat. "Mary, I've had such a good time with you." He reached out and took her hand. He was relieved when she did not pull her hand away.

She smiled. "I've loved our time together." She blushed realising that she had revealed her inner feelings.

"Mary, why don't we forget about the war? We could stay here. We don't have to go to war."

"You know we can't do that. I have my duty, and you have yours."

He leaned forward and tried to kiss her, but she pulled away. "Francis, we mustn't, it is not proper."

"Please Mary, I need you," he begged. "Just a kiss."

She pushed him away and stood up. "Behave yourself young man. I expect better from you." But she smiled after she spoke.

She admitted to herself that she was probably in love with him. Now was not the time to admit her love. In her eyes, he was a young hero, who had survived battles in the jungle and malaria. He was a simple soul who valued friendship, loyalty, and faith. But she did not want any complications in her life. She was determined to serve her country overseas, and she knew that if she became romantically involved with him, it would make it harder for her to follow her dream.

"I'm sorry, Mary, please forgive me...I lost my head...it won't happen again."

Seeing the tragic look on his face, she forgave him. "All right, you may walk me home. No more misbehaving."

He apologised and walked her home, promising he would behave himself in future. She agreed to meet him the following Saturday. However, during the week, he received a note from her that her brother Harry had died at Gallipoli. She said she needed time to grieve with her family.

Two weeks passed before he heard from her. They met after her shift at the hospital. She was coming out the front door, in her neat nurse's uniform, as he was arriving. When she saw him approaching, she smiled.

"Are you all right, Mary?"

"No, I'm not. We've had a terrible time. Mum hasn't stopped crying."

He took her arm and they walked to the café. The waitress brought their tea and toast order. He tenderly took her hand. "Mary, I'm so sorry for your loss."

"I have to tell you my other news," she said, unable to hide her excitement. "I've been accepted for the overseas nursing service."

He tried to hide his disappointment. Mary was so excited she didn't notice his hesitation. He pulled himself together and smiled weakly. "This is wonderful news. You must be very happy."

"I've thought it through; I know this is the right decision. Our boys are over there giving so much. I'll be near them, caring for them when they come in from the battlefield."

He smiled and said, "I'm really happy for you."

"Breaking the news to Mum and Dad won't be easy," she admitted. "They're still suffering from the death of Harry. He was their shining light." She bowed her head. "Maybe if I had been there he might not have died."

"Mary, you can't say that. You don't know how it happened. It might have been quick." He realised these were hardly words of comfort.

"I know. I know...but I can't help thinking about it. I want you to come with me when I tell Mum and Dad. They like you. I need your support."

He had not visited her parents since the death of Harry. He could only imagine what they were going through. He agreed to accompany her because it gave him a chance to spend more time with her.

She had been so busy talking about her own plans that he could not get a word in edgeways. He at last spat it out. He told her about his feelings of self-doubt. "I think my illness has put me off reenlisting. I've gone over it in my mind again and again. I'm torn between wanting to do my duty and not wanting to be killed. I've come close to death. I've done my bit, but have I done enough?"

She tried to find the right words to help him, but she did not know the answer.

He bowed his head. "I don't know what to do. I want someone to tell me what I should do."

"I can't tell you what to do. You have to follow your heart."

As he floundered in self-pity, it dawned on him that he might not see her for a long time. He looked at her imploringly. "Mary, we might be apart for years." He threw his arms around her.

She drew back. "Please Francis, behave yourself. We are in a café with other people."

"Damn the other people," he said, raising his voice. He apologised, and agreed to accompany her home to give her support. As they walked, he realised what Mary going overseas would mean for him. He would no longer see her beaming face, her elfin smile. He would be alone. Neither spoke as they walked. Mary walked quickly, full of determination.

Mary told her parents the news as soon as they arrived. Her mother burst into tears and rushed off to her bedroom. Her father was dismayed. He was still coming to terms with the death of Harry. Despite this, he was philosophical. "You will do what you must. Mary, look to your mother. It has all been too much. Our second eldest son, George, has joined up and will soon be shipping out, and my two youngest boys want to enlist. What can I do?"

He invited Milne to sit with him.

"I suppose Mary has told you about Harry. He died of wounds in Gallipoli on the first day. The letter we got didn't tell us much about how he died. It won't be the same without him. I keep expecting him to walk through the door and ask us why we didn't meet him at the wharf."

His eyes filled with tears. He looked down at his newspaper. Milne squirmed in his seat. He was not good at comforting people in grief. He always seemed to say the wrong thing.

Mary's father picked up the picture sitting on the side table next to the armchair. "He was a fine strapping lad. We received a letter from his commanding officer. He said he was a hero and died fighting for his mates."

Milne fell silent and gazed at the picture, trying to think of something to say. He tried to think of something that might bring comfort to the grieving, broken man sitting before him. "He did his duty," he said, and then wanted to kick himself for saying something so lame. He made small talk wishing Mary would come back. She did at last.

"Mum's asleep now," she said. "Dad, I'll walk Francis out and I'll be back in a few minutes."

"They've taken my enlistment badly," she said, walking him to the door. "But there's nothing to be done. I've signed the papers. I'll be shipping out in two weeks."

This news was like a hammer blow. He almost staggered at the top of the stairs. She said it so matter-of-factly, so coldly, as if his feeling did not matter. "So soon, Mary? I thought it would be months..."

"No, there is a shortage of suitable nurses. I agreed to go as soon as possible."

He thought his heart would burst. "Will I see you before you go?"

"Yes, of course you will. You go along now. I promise to spend as much time with you as I can before I go."

As he walked home through the deserted streets, he felt like his world was crumbling around him. Without Mary by his side, he thought his life was not worth living. She had become his reason to carry on. _She is everything I want,_ he thought, _nothing is greater or more important than her._ He could not wait for their next meeting, that moment when she would be sitting opposite him in a café, or walking by his side in the sun, laughing, joking, and dreaming about the future.

Over the following two weeks, they met as often as they could. But these were not happy, carefree days. Mary was preoccupied with her impending departure for Egypt. He wished she wasn't going.

A week before her departure, her parents held a small afternoon party in her honour. Milne made small talk with a seemingly endless supply of uncles, aunties and cousins. They all asked him the same question – how did he know Mary? Where did he meet her? Was he her sweetheart? When was he reenlisting? Even those who had heard his answers listened in when asked to tell the story again about his experiences in New Guinea. His tales of adventures in the jungles of New Guinea were greedily absorbed.

Although he had tried, he could not get close to Mary. He so wanted to talk to her alone. A few times, he snuck a look at her, and if she saw him looking, she smiled back sweetly and rolled her eyes. She looked so beautiful. Her face was lit up with excitement at the prospect of serving her country overseas.

It was at this point that he realised how much he was in love with her. He was going to lose her. She would not be there for him anymore. His sense of loss was magnified by the danger she faced as a nurse near a war zone. He cursed that he had not told her how he felt. Why hadn't he said something earlier? If he'd made his feelings known, she may have decided to stay in Australia.

Her mother was aware of Mary's feelings for Francis. She could see that they wanted to be alone. She asked Mary if she could go to the shops and buy a packet of sugar, and asked him to accompany her.

They were relieved to be alone at last. He put his arm around her, as they walked to the shops and said, "Mary, I'll miss you."

She pressed her face into his chest. "I'll miss you, too." They walked slowly to a park and found a quiet corner.

"What a damned fool I've been," he said. "All this time you've been in front of me but I said nothing. All this time I've called you my friend...my sister, but what I really wanted to do was to hold you, kiss you, and love you. Please don't go overseas. Stay here with me."

She pulled away from him in disgust. "No, I've made my decision; I have signed on for the duration. This is my calling. I will answer it."

"I felt like you did once and now look at the disgrace I've become. I feel ashamed that you have so much resolve and courage, and I have so little."

"You mustn't say that! You've been sick with malaria. Some never recover."

"What am I to do Mary? I can't bear the thought of you so far away and in danger."

"You could join the medical services. There are plenty of places for hospital orderlies. We may end up in the same hospital, and then we will be together. But you must remember that if that happens, we must pretend we don't know each other. The matron told me romantic attachments are frowned upon."

He thought about it. "Yes, I'll enlist in the medical services. Oh, Mary I feel better already. But let me ask you something. Do you like me?"

Mary squeezed his hand. "Yes, I am fond of you and have been since we first met. But I was never sure if you felt the same way about me. I couldn't say anything to you, it would not have been proper."

"But let me ask you this," he persisted. "If I had told you how I felt before you decided to enlist, would you still have enlisted?"

"Yes, it wouldn't have made any difference. When this war is over, we will be together, I know it."

"Why can't we be together now, before you go?" he pleaded.

She agreed and suggested they go for walks in the park and picnics with her family.

"I was thinking of something a little more intimate," he said. "My parents are visiting a sick aunt up country. They'll be away for a week or two."

"What are you suggesting? You know I'm not that sort of girl."

"Mary, I know that - I don't mean, you know...going the whole way...I meant time to ourselves to talk...and kiss...there are things we can do."

Mary was shocked at his suggestion. She considered him a proper well-mannered young man.

"I would not do anything you don't want me to do," he added quickly, when he saw her hesitating. "You can trust me, Mary."

She agreed to come to his house, three days before she was due to leave for overseas.

The appointed day arrived. She told her parents she would be at the hospital for training and would not be home until midnight.

Her shift ended late in the afternoon. She changed out of her uniform and headed across the street to meet him. He was eagerly waiting for her with a bunch of flowers. He kissed her on the cheek and they caught a tram to his home.

He had spent all afternoon cleaning the house, setting the table and preparing a leg of lamb for roasting. Before he left to meet her, he turned on the oven and put the lamb in.

As Mary stepped through the front door, the aroma of roasting lamb wafted through the house. He took her coat and gave her a quick tour of the house. They returned to the lounge room and sat on the couch.

He went into the kitchen and tested the lamb. He called out that it was ready and took it out of the oven. He had cooked the lamb to perfection.

After dinner, they sat on the couch. He sat at one end, she at the other. He pretended to look at a magazine on the coffee table so he could edge closer to her. The night was getting on, if he was to make his move, it had to be now. Just as he was about to sit next to her, she asked if she could use his bathroom. He showed her where it was and sat back on the couch.

He had worked himself into an uneasy sweat. When she returned, she sat nearer him on the couch. Seeing this as a signal, he boldly leant forward and kissed her. When she didn't resist, he kissed her again.

"Mary, I want you so much. I have dreamed of this night. We have so little time together."

"I know... I know," she whispered. She passionately kissed him, touching his face with her hand.

He put his arm around her shoulders. When she did not push his hand away, he placed his hand on her breast. She did not stop him. His heart was racing. As they continued kissing, they slowly lay down on the couch.

He slipped his hand under her blouse, and felt her breasts. She allowed him to fondle them.

He put his hand on her leg and started working his way up.

"No, we'll wait," she said firmly, pushing his hand away.

"But Mary, you'll be overseas, we may not see each other for years."

Mary shook her head. "We can't throw decency out the window, even in war. We will be together again, I feel it, and I know it. No matter how far you go, no matter where you are, my thoughts will be with you. You'll never be alone. And when this war is done, nothing will stand in the way of our love."

He resigned himself to the inevitable. Lying back on the couch, he said, "Mary, why don't we make a pact? When the war is over, we'll get married."

She sat up. "You are a hopeless romantic aren't you? All right, we'll make a pact." She held up her right hand and said, "When this war is over, I Mary Batten will marry Francis Milne."

They lay in each other's arms for an hour until she had to go home. He walked her home through the dark streets.

A few days later, he stood forlornly on the wharf waving as her ship pulled out. He called out that he would enlist and would not be far behind her. The ship put out to sea. The crowd drifted off, leaving him alone. Streamers blew along the wharf and fell into the water. He watched them drift on the tide.

He had promised Mary two weeks ago that he would enlist. He had walked to the army recruitment centre twice, but each time he had turned back. Torn between wanting to do his duty and not wanting to go back to war, he agonised over what he should do. He understood the virtues of duty, loyalty and honour. He lived by these principles. His teachers had hammered these into him at school. He lay in bed struggling with his conscience. _What is this thing we call duty? Is it a thing? A person? I can't see, touch, or smell it. If I answer its urgent call, it could kill me. When the Anzacs landed at Gallipoli and charged into the hills, they believed it was their duty. Those who died there, died for something they could not see or touch. I am one man amongst hundreds of thousands of men. I am a dot in the vast universe. If I died tomorrow, the world will never know I ever existed. What difference would I make if I joined the fray? Will we win the war sooner? No. Will the world be a better place? No. If I give my life away, will my family be happier or sadder? Sadder._ He strained his ears to hear the noises of the street. A horse and cart rumbled by. The steady beat of the hooves on the road felt like his heart beat. _If I die in battle, my name will be enshrined for evermore on a monument in some distant battlefield. The words inscribed on the monument will say that I did my duty. The cost of doing my duty will be a moment of terror, followed by pain and fear. My body torn by shrapnel or bullets._

He rolled on his side, and gave up trying to sleep. He lit the candle on his side table and picked up a newspaper from a pile of newspapers about the war. He reread the article about the Gallipoli campaign in the newspaper – _'no finer feat of arms in this war,'_ _'Australasians glorious entry into war.'_ The newspaper did not mention casualties, but further in the paper there were pictures of some of those killed in action, and lists of names.

Unable to sleep, he left the house and walked the streets. The sun was rising. Early morning workers were filling the streets. They called out to each other, exchanging news about relatives fighting at Gallipoli. He walked down to the waterfront, and leant on the railing running along the harbour. Fish darted about in the clear water. He lost track of time. An old fisherman called out to him, waking him from his thoughts. Milne walked over to him and asked if he'd caught anything.

"Nah, mate, the fish aren't bitin', must be the war," he laughed. "Wait...I got something...you brought me luck!" He pulled up a large fish. The fish flapped helplessly on the ground.

The fish reminded Milne of his own struggles to decide his fate. Should he join or should he wait? He turned on his heel and walked away.

"Where you goin' mate? You're my good luck charm."

"I'm off to enlist," he shouted back.

He walked briskly to the recruitment centre. However, when he arrived, he hesitated. Mary had urged him to join the medical services. The one thing he had not thought about was whether he would be able to deal with badly wounded soldiers. He decided instead to join the infantry. He put in a special request that he be taken on by the 5th Infantry Brigade, which was under the command of Colonel Holmes, his old commander in New Guinea. The brigade was in Egypt preparing for the August offensive at Gallipoli. Most of the soldiers he had fought with in New Guinea had enlisted in this formation. He would be amongst his friends. He had a few days off to put his affairs in order before reporting for duty.

The following day, Lawson dropped in to see him. He was surprised that Milne had joined up. "What about your little Mary?"

"That's one of the reasons I'm going," he admitted. "Mary is in Egypt."

"Ah, so that's it," said Lawson. "You're going to war for a woman. Yeah, good reason in my book."

Lawson added that he would join the same brigade.

"But I thought you said you'd had enough of war."

"I can't let me little mate go to war without me," he replied.

"But what about Freda, I thought you said you were going to rescue her from the internment camp."

"I'm sure she can wait - she's not goin' anywhere is she? When we've given the Turks a thrashing, I'll come back a war hero, and rescue her."

Milne laughed and put his hand on Lawson's shoulder. "You really are the most remarkable bloke I've ever met."

"Well, let's hope I continue like that, because from what I 'ear, the Turk is a hell of a fighter. Listen, before I enlist, I'm going to see Freda tomorrow out at the internment camp. Come with me. You know, a bit of moral support."

Milne watched from the train window as the suburbs merged into open country. He and Lawson were travelling to the internment camp to visit Freda.

Lawson was in a confident mood. "Me little Freda will throw her arms around me, mate. I can see the look in her eye. She'll want to make love there and then. It's been a while."

Milne chuckled. "I doubt the guards will allow that. What are you going to say to her anyway?"

Lawson leaned back in his seat. When he spoke to her in Rabaul just before the military authorities deported her to Australia for possessing firearms, he had promised he would visit her. He had thought a lot about her since returning from New Guinea. For months, he had been formulating a plan to help her escape from the camp. He knew that if he helped her escape, assuming she agreed to such a mad plan, they would be on the run and life would be hard. If captured, he could end up in prison. Freda, after all, was an enemy alien. But if she remained in the camp, the authorities would deport her to Germany at the end of the war and he would never see her again.

They arrived at the internment camp, a jumble of buildings and tents behind a wire fence. After signing in, a guard escorted them to a small room off the reception area. They sat down and waited for the guard to collect Freda.

"I haven't thought of what I want to say to her yet," said Lawson, finally answering Milne's question.

Freda had had an eventful time following her deportation from Rabaul to Australia. She had arrived in Sydney in early 1915. The authorities were not sure what to do with her. Most of the German women caught up in the war and interned were married with children. Freda did not fit that category. Salacious stories about what went on at her Rabaul club, the Black Cat, did the rounds. After spending a few days in a prison cell, the authorities sent her to an internment camp in Bourke. Most of the internees at the camp were women and children from all over the Pacific. This was the lowest point in her life. The harsh climate, the dust, and the desolation after the greenery of New Guinea, made her despair. The other women ostracised her and called her a whore. They complained to the camp authorities about a former brothel madam in their midst.

Freda ignored them and demanded that the authorities transfer her to an internment camp in Sydney. She pestered the prison governor and wrote to military authorities. Despite the hostility from other women, she organised them to start a letter writing campaign. Some of the women began to look up to her as a representative and leader. Freda had learnt over many years how to get around men. She could turn on the charm when she needed to. She made such a nuisance of herself that the authorities sent her to the Liverpool internment camp, which housed thousands of male Germans and Austrians caught up in the war. Many were from former German colonies in the Pacific.

Freda and two other single women shared a shack in the grounds of the camp, segregated from the male prisoners. Although the camp was crowded and there was little to do, it was better than starving back in Rabaul. She had a little money saved up to buy small luxuries in the camp canteen for herself and her new friends. Her friends were destitute and appreciated her kindness.

The authorities allowed certain trusted female prisoners to obtain paid work outside the camp. This provided them with a small income to buy better food. Freda quickly won the trust of the camp authorities and obtained a position as a housekeeper to a local man whose wife had recently died leaving him with three children to support.

On her first day, the guard escorted her to meet him and his children. Although she had limited experience with children, and was vague about what she did in Rabaul, her employer was not fussy. He wanted someone to care for his children while he brought in the harvest and planted new crops. The farm was reasonably prosperous and he made a decent living. He hired her, and she started working a few days later. She was happy to be out of the camp during the day. Looking after the children gave her a new sense of purpose. The children liked her. Arising early each day, she signed herself out at the gate and walked the short distance to the farmhouse. When she arrived, she helped the children get ready for school, and began her daily chores of washing, cleaning and cooking. After the children returned from school, and had washed and eaten, she put them to bed, and returned to camp.

The weeks went by. From time to time, she wondered what had happened to Cliff and Francis. She had not heard from either of them since she had been deported.

One Sunday morning, her day off, a guard told her that she had visitors.

"But I don't know anyone. Who would visit me?"

"I don't know, lady," said the guard. "The governor said it was all right, so come along."

Her friends crowded around her expressing excitement and concern. She followed the guard to the reception area where he directed her to a room off to one side. She opened the door and stepped into the room.

Lawson was sitting at the table grinning. Milne sat next to him. "Well well," she said, "If it isn't Cliff. You've come to visit me."

"Yeah, here I am. I tried seeing you earlier, but the authorities wouldn't allow it. How are you surviving here?"

"It's not too bad, I'm getting by."

She turned to Milne, who had walked across the room to greet her. She kissed him affectionately on the cheek. "How are you, Francis? When I saw you in Rabaul you were sick with malaria."

"Yeah, I'm all right," he replied. "Don't mind me; I came with Cliff to give him moral support. I'll just sit in the corner."

She sat opposite Lawson at the table. "Yes, his morals certainly need support. So why have you come to see me after all this time? And don't tell me some bullshit story."

He leaned back in mock surprise that she could accuse him of expanding on the truth. He lowered his voice and looked furtively about. "I've come to rescue you from this hellhole."

"Are you out of your mind!" she retorted. "Life is good here. I have enough to eat, medical and dental care, and I'm working outside the camp. What do you think, Francis?"

He shrugged, not wanting to get involved with one of Lawson's mad escapades.

Lawson continued. "Life must be boring for you here. Remember the free life you had in Rabaul? Come with me, I'll hide you out in Sydney. I know the back streets of Woolloomooloo and Ultimo like the back of me hand. The coppers will never find youse. We'll live together as man and wife."

"You'll marry me?"

"Well, I can't marry you; you'll be a wanted escapee, a criminal. We can pretend to be married."

"I see," she said smirking, "so you would risk helping me escape just so you can get your hands all over me. And I risk being sent to prison for escaping."

He smiled guiltily. "Yeah, something like that, look what I'm sayin' is that I like you and feel responsible for what's happened to you. If it hadn't been for me, you might still be happily living in Rabaul. Seems a waste that you're locked up. This war could go on for bloody years."

She leaned back on her chair. "Perhaps I'd rather be locked up here than living like a fugitive."

"But you'll be free. I'm earnin' a bit of money down the wharves. I know people what will employ you, no questions asked. Just think of it – the two of us living under the noses of the coppers. Living from one day to the next, never knowing what's around the corner. Always one step ahead of the law."

She should have told him that she didn't want anything to do with him. But she didn't say that. Instead, she sat back and mulled over his mad plan. Despite her foreboding, she did like him. Wherever he was, trouble and adventure followed. He was unstable, a larrikin, sometimes overbearing, but always fun. Then she asked herself what she had to lose. The worst that could happen was she would be imprisoned, which would be no worse than living in the internment camp. At least she would have excitement and a good time for as long as she would last on the run. She decided to probe a bit deeper before she agreed to anything.

"You know, you've really taken me by surprise. You must have many girlfriends. Why are you interested in me? I'm a prisoner. If you help me escape, you'll be in as much trouble as me."

He glanced at Milne, obviously embarrassed at expressing his feeling in front of his mate. "As I said before, I feel bad about what's happened to you. And it's true, the girls are lining up for my affections. What with all the men going off to war, I have a free hand. I could have a different girl every night. But...well..."

Milne pretended to examine his fingernails.

"Yes, I'm listening," she said.

"Well, the truth of the matter is that I don't want every girl anymore. I want you. You have guts and character. I can't explain it."

"Why, Mr. Lawson, are you saying you're in love with me?"

"Damn it woman, you make it hard for a bloke to say what he feels." He grinned slyly at the double meaning. "I'm trying to tell you I think you're a nice sheila and we've 'ad some good times together. Since I come back from New Guinea, I've thought a lot about you. You're good in bed as well," he added, as if it was his trump card.

She leaned back and smiled. "I'll take that as a compliment," she said, not the least offended. She admitted that life with him would be more exciting than camp life.

"Stick with me sugar," said Lawson, "I know how to show a girl a good time. All we need is an escape plan. Then we'll shoot through to Sydney. I got friends who can forge you identity papers. Dye your hair, give you a new name, and I'll introduce you as me Swiss girlfriend."

She leant over and gave him a big kiss on the lips. Just then, the guard hammered on the door and said their time was up.

"When?" she whispered.

He replied that they would have to wait to let things settle down. "See, the authorities will be on their guard at the start. But over time, they'll lower their guard. More and more men are volunteering. Soon there'll be a shortage of guards. That's when we strike. Towards the end of the year."

"That's a long time to wait."

"It'll be worth it. By then no one will care about an escaped German woman. You're hardly a threat to national security. And anyways, Francis and me are off to give the Turks what for."

She looked at him in surprise. "How long will you be gone?"

He shrugged and told her not to worry; they would sort the Turks out in no time and would be back soon. They hugged once more and he promised that he would see her soon.

### Chapter 9

Four months had past since the Allies landed at Gallipoli. Both sides had suffered heavy casualties. The Turks repulsed every attack and the war had bogged down in a stalemate. The desperate fighting and the heavy losses had been in vain. The Turks still held the high ground. The Anzacs clung precariously to the hills and beaches, and waited for the next attack.

The Allies resolved to break the deadlock by launching a series of attacks on the heights. The plan was to launch two major coordinated attacks; the British were to land reinforcements at Suvla, south of the Anzac positions, and assault the Turkish positions; and the Anzacs were to attack Turkish positions at Lone Pine, the Nek and Hill 60. The Allies hoped that the two attacks would crash through the Turkish lines, roll up the Turkish trenches, and knock Turkey out of the war. This would relieve the pressure on Russia, and expose Germany's southern flank.

In August 1915, Privates Milne and Lawson arrived at the 5th Infantry Brigade's camp near Cairo. As they walked into the barracks, the soldiers greeted them with cheers and hoots.

"I don't believe it, mate," shouted a veteran of the New Guinea campaign. "It's bloody Milne and Lawson. We never thought we'd see you blokes again. Why'd you leave it so late?"

"Look, youse blokes, the truth is that old Holmes sent me a telegram saying that he needed me and Francis because he knew we'd give the Turk what for."

The soldier burst into hoots and called out, "Come on Lawson, pull the other one. You think we're stupid or something."

"No, fair dinkum," he said in a wounded voice. "I'll show you the very telegram if you don't believe me."

The soldiers hooted and laughed as he pretended to fish around in his pocket. "Damn, must have left it at 'ome."

This caused more uproar. Milne laughed along with everyone else. He looked around at the happy faces and recognised nearly every soldier.

"We've been here in this bloody desert training for weeks, and you two just swan in," shouted another soldier. "Bloody injustice. Anyway, you're in time for the big attack. They reckon we're going over to Gallipoli in a few days. We're gonna take the hills from the Turks and chase 'em all the way to Constantinople."

They found a bunk, stowed their gear and settled in. While Milne was going through his possessions, a young soldier walked over to him and put out his hand. "Pardon me, my name is Private George Batten, I think you know my sister, Mary."

He saw the resemblance. George was a good looking young bloke - medium height, cheeky grin, rosy cheeks. His attempt to grow a moustache to make himself look older was not successful. Ginger specks of bumfluff appeared on his upper lip. He had more pimples than facial hair.

They shook hands. "I hope we're in the same unit, Mary said you're a veteran and will know what to do when we get amongst the enemy."

Milne was surprised to find himself catagorised as an expert in trench warfare. "Yeah, no worries, you stick with me and we'll get through it."

George told him that Mary had written to him from a hospital in Cairo. Milne had not heard from her since she had shipped out.

"In case you were thinking of visiting her, you can forget it," added George. "I've already tried. The nurses are off-limits to everyone. Even brothers."

"There must be some way I can see Mary before we go over to Gallipoli," mused Milne.

"I know," said Lawson, "walk out the barracks, sneak through several military checkpoints, and climb through a window at the nurses' quarters. Easy."

"Or better still," called out a soldier, "get wounded after we arrive in Gallipoli and you'll be evacuated to hospital. The Turks will be happy to oblige."

Lawson changed the subject. "You blokes have been here a while, what do you reckon we're in for when we go in?"

Several soldiers pointed to another soldier laying on his bunk with his nose in a book. He seemed uninterested in the boisterous discussions. One of them said,"Oy, Professor Watkins, give us your speech on what we're in for."

The silent soldier stubbonly continued reading his book for a few more minutes. The soldiers insisted he speak. He carefully marked his place and closed it. He sat up on his bunk and saluted. "Private Marcus Watkins, at your service. Six months ago I was a student studying ancient history at Sydney University. I volunteered along with most of my class. I landed at Gallipoli back in April, and was wounded a few hours later. They patched me up and here I am."

"Good to meet you," replied Milne. "So what can we expect when we land?"

"I can tell you, we won't be kicking the Turks out. They're entrenched in the hills behind barbed wire and a deep trench system. They've got masses of artillery directed by German officers, and hundreds of machine guns. What's going to happen is that most of us will be mown down by machine guns the moment we leave our trenches and advance up those hills. The Turks will send down shrapnel on the survivors."

"He's brilliant, ain't he," interupted a grumpy soldier. "He goes on like this all the time. If there's no way up those hills, why would our commanders be sending us in? No, I heard the Turks are ready to break, and it will be us that wins the glory."

"Tell us that story again about them Greek blokes, Armagedon and bloody Arthur Chilles," said another soldier, obviously enjoying himself. "This is a real treat."

"King Agamennon and Achilles," corrected Marcus.

"Yeah, whatever."

Marcus cleared his throat. "Historians think that the ancient city of Troy stood near here. A long time ago, there was a struggle between Troy and a young nation that has parallels with us today."

Lawson scratched his head. "You've lost me already, mate. I don't get what you're on about."

"It was a long time ago, way back in the mists of time. At the time these events took place, the Greeks were a young nation, so to speak, and they besieged the city of Troy. This was a time of heroes. You see a Trojan prince, Paris, had kidnapped Helen, the wife of a Greek king so the Greeks went to war to get her back. King Agamemnon led them, but their best military leader and fighter was Achilles. These two fell out over a woman and Achilles held back his followers and refused to fight the Trojans. So the Trojans and the Greeks were evenly matched. The siege dragged on. But when the Trojan, Hector, killed Patroclus, Achilles' best friend, Achilles led his men into battle and killed Hector."

Lawson piped up. "I don't see what this has got to do with Australians fighting the Turks. This is a different time. You charge the enemy with a sword and you get mown down by a machine gun."

"You're missing the point," said Marcus, angrily. "The parallel is that we are a young nation creating history. What we do at Gallipoli will echo beyond our time. New generations of Australians will one day go there and marvel at how we clung to those hillsides and fought the Turk for every inch of scrub. They will wonder at how so many young Australians died there, so far from home."

"I see," said Milne, "so what happened in the end. Who won?"

"The Greeks tricked the Trojans by pretending to leave, and left behind a huge wooden horse as a gift. Greek warriors were hiding inside the horse. The Trojans wheeled the horse into the city and during the night, the warriors climbed out and opened the gates to the waiting Greek army."

Lawson laughed. "Yeah, so to win this war, all we have to do is pretend to leave, and leave behind a huge wooden horse loaded with a battalion. When the Turks wheel it into Constantinople, we all jump out and massacre 'em!"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "You've taken the story literally..."

Their banter was broken by a pale officer who dashed in shouting, "Look sharp men, our commanding officer is on his way."

The soldiers scrambled to their feet, just as Colonel Holmes marched in. Milne was pleased to see him again. He combined an air of authority with a ready smile.

"At ease men," said Holmes. He walked along the rows of men standing at attention. If he recognised a soldier, he nodded. When he came to Milne he stopped, gave him a friendly look and patted him on the arm. He looked Lawson up and down, and smiled.

When he had inspected the men, he stood in the middle of the barracks. "Soon we go into battle. The Turk is a tough soldier, but we will get the better of him. We are going to break through. Every man here will remember this day. And don't let anyone say it can't be done – several days ago, the Anzacs captured the Turkish trenches at a place called Lone Pine, after a heroic struggle. Those heroes stormed up the slopes through a hurricane of fire. They did not falter. This will be your shining example. Remember Lone Pine! Get some sleep, tomorrow will be a new day." He marched out.

Milne lay on his bunk next to Lawson. They looked at each other. The enormity of what they were about to do dawned on them. The other soldiers fell silent as each went over in his head what the following days would bring. Milne found it difficult to sleep, he was keyed up. He had not had time to recover from the long trip over.

"Cliff, are you awake."

"Yeah, we really are for it."

"I hope I get a chance to see Mary sometime. I think I'm in love with her."

Lawson chuckled. "When we first met you didn't know one end of a woman from another. Now you're a right little Romeo. So, did you and Mary...you know...before she left?"

He pretended not to understand what he meant. He said they went for lots of walks and picnics.

Lawson gave him a knowing look. "I don't mean that, I mean did you two get down to it."

"Cliff, that's an inappropriate thing to say. Mary's a proper girl. I'm in love with her. But she's beyond my reach. I seem to fall in love with women I can't have."

"Its not your fault. This war come along and shook everything up. The plan is to get in there, keep your wits about you, and go home one day, 'opefully with all your limbs attached."

Milne leaned on his hand. He was about to say something when Lawson told him to get some sleep. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off.

The following morning they were woken by the urgent shouts of officers. "Come on, let's have you, time to go!" Outside, the camp was in uproar. Soldiers were running in every direction, officers shouted over the top of the noise rallying the battalion. Trucks and wagons were being loaded with supplies.

"This is it," said George, "we're going in."

The officers formed the troops up on the parade ground, and assigned soldiers to companies and units. Milne was pleased that George, Lawson and Marcus were in his unit. He could depend on them in a tight spot. A tubby sergeant was in charge of their unit. He dashed about in an agitated state calling his unit together.

After a hurried breakfast, they marched to the station and boarded a train for the trip to Alexandria. From the station at Alexandria, they marched to the wharf where they boarded a large troop carrier. Barely had all the men clambered aboard than the ship cast off, joining a flotilla of vessels heading for Gallipoli.

Milne and Lawson leant against the rail as the ship ploughed through the sea. They watched the other troopships, escorted by warships, glide beside them. The mournful cry of seagulls sounded overhead. All day, they sailed without incident. George and Marcus joined them and they talked quietly amongst themselves. Milne had lost track of time since they left Egypt, but he assumed it was near dawn of the following day.

Some of the soldiers boasted about what they would do when they got their hands on the enemy. Others stared grimly ahead, saying little, speaking only when spoken to. Still others silently weighed their chances of coming through the battle without a scratch. Milne thought that the moments before battle were the worst. It was not the fear of death that tied his stomach in a knot, but being confined in a small space waiting for something to happen that got on his nerves.

Their sergeant had succeeded in darkening his mood. All morning he had issued ridiculous orders and made a nuisance of himself. He stood behind Milne and his friends, interrupting their quiet conversation to make some idiotic comment. The more he went on, the more it dawned on Milne that he was scared stiff. He understood fear. But the sergeant was the unit leader, and he should have been setting an example for the less experienced soldiers. Instead, he seemed to be sowing panic amongst them.

Towards evening, they entered the war zone. A British warship was pounding the Turkish positions in the hills.

The troopship anchored offshore, sailors lowered rowing boats, and rope ladders dropped over the side. Milne climbed over the side and stepped into a boat. As they rowed ashore, he looked up and saw the grim mountains towering above the beach.

"Chunuk Bair," said Marcus, pointing to one of the dark hills.

The rowers stopped and lifted their oars from the water. The boats glided onto the beach. Milne heard the sound of scraping as the boat slid along the sand. He peered into the darkness wondering what was in store for them. Several other boats were landing all along the beach. He jumped out and moved into marching order on the beach. Lawson stood next to him. "Bloody hell, what a fucking mess," he said, looking at the chaotic scene on the beach. Less than a yard from them, there were hundreds of wounded men lying on stretchers amidst a jumble of tents, stores, and boxes of ammunition. Some cried out in agony, others were sitting up smoking and watching them.

When their platoon formed up, they marched into the surrounding scrub passing groups of exhausted soldiers who had been fighting for months. Then they marched back towards the coast, turned around again, and moved inland.

Milne stumbled into a deep trench, and landed on something soft. In the light of the moon, he saw that he had landed in a trench full of bodies. He scrambled out and rejoined the others.

"Does anyone know where we're going?" he asked. "We appear to be lost."

Marcus pointed towards the mountains and replied, "Up there."

"This is a bloody funny way to go up there; we seem to be going away from it," said Lawson.

"Quiet in the ranks," barked their dour sergeant. "You don't ask questions Lawson, you obey orders."

The unit stopped. Up ahead, Milne saw a group of officers. Their sergeant stood between them and the officers, disappointed that he was not party to the discussions. He moved closer to the officers. The officer huddle broke up, and an officer conferred with him. He walked back towards them.

"What's goin' on, Sarge?" asked Lawson.

"Back in line, Lawson. Okay, everyone sit down and rest. We'll be staying here till dawn. Grab some sleep."

They stretched out on the ground and tried to sleep, but it was impossible. There was the constant roar of artillery, and endless streams of soldiers, supply troops, walking wounded, stretcher-bearers, and medical teams going in both directions.

"Francis, are you awake?" asked Lawson, who was lying on the ground, his head propped up by his hand.

"Only the dead could sleep with this racket going on," he replied with his eyes closed. He was thinking about the trench full of corpses he had fallen into.

Lawson took a drag on his cigarette. "I think I'm in love with Freda."

Milne turned on his side and rested his head on his hand. "This is a hell of a time to admit that. Why are you telling me this now?"

"Well, you know mate, I've heard it's pretty rough where we're going, up Chunuk Bair or something, and if I don't come through I want her to know it."

"You're a born survivor."

"You know it was different for us back in the April landings," said Marcus, sitting up. "We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into when we landed. Most of the blokes hadn't heard of Turkey, not to mention Gallipoli. We thought we would land on the beaches and carry the Turkish trenches after firing a few shots and a bayonet charge. It's different this time. We know what we're facing. As I said before, we're not going for a stroll in the Turkish countryside. As soon as we stick our heads over the trenches, the Turks are gonna shoot 'em off."

"Thank you, Professor," said Lawson mockingly. "And now for the good news..."

They fell silent. George, who was lying next to Marcus, sat up. "That's enough of that talk, Marcus. We'll be in Constantinople in a week, celebrating our victory."

Marcus shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes.

They rested until dawn and watched the sunrise over Gallipoli.

"Geez, looks like the Australian countryside," said Lawson, noting the brown hills and spindly trees.

"Come on lads, we're moving," said their sergeant. "This is it."

They moved forward into the interior, across sandy, hilly country. In the afternoon, they camped within the shadow of Chunuk Bair. All around them, bullets whistled through the air, shells exploded and the wounded cried out. A succession of weary stretcher-bearers trudged by carrying severely burnt and wounded men. Lawson stopped a wounded soldier covered in burns and asked what had happened to them.

"We tried to take Hill 60, but the Turks are entrenched on the summit. They killed or wounded most of our blokes in the attack. A shell set fire to the scrub, and the wounded stranded in no-man's-land were burnt alive."

The sight of the burnt men shook the soldiers. A soldier standing next to Milne turned away and vomited as the grisly procession of burnt men staggered by. Milne tried his best to calm the younger blokes standing around.

"The Turks are dug in deep," continued the wounded soldier, "the New Zealanders, the Poms, and the Gurkhas are all there trying to take the summit. I hope you blokes break through, I'd like to see those bastards kicked off the top."

"Don't you worry mate," said George, "we'll be at 'em directly."

A crowd of prisoners followed the wounded. Milne had never seen Turkish soldiers before and stood watching them go by. Their uniforms were torn and dirty and their hands and faces filthy. They looked bewildered. A soldier from Milne's battalion stepped out of the line and pushed a Turkish prisoner. "Come on you bastard, I'll take you right here," he said, shaping up. Some of the other men urged him to bash the prisoner while others told him to save it for the attack. An officer intervened and told him to get back in line.

The battalion continued the march. They came across a large group of soldiers camping. "Look reinforcements, you're a sight for sore eyes," they shouted, "struth youse blokes look like you've been on bloody holiday. Where yer been?"

"We were in Rabaul, New Guinea," shouted Lawson. "Grabbed it from the Hun and smashed 'em up while we were at it."

"Rabaul? Never bloody 'eard of it mate."

"That's alright Rabaul 'as never heard of you neither. So what's the lay of the land here?"

"The Turk is entrenched up there. We're down here and we want to be up there. Simple. Then it's all the way to Constantinople."

An officer told them to sit in the shade and wait for further orders. The shade gave them a welcome respite from the relentless heat. George came over to Milne and Lawson who were sprawled on the ground. "I was listening to a couple of officers, and they reckon we're not going in. Apparently, the Turks have thrown back every attack, and they don't think a bunch of untested troops like us will be able to break through."

Marcus, who was lying in the dirt reading his book, said they hadn't come this far not to be thrown into battle. They heard the sound of firing ahead. Bullets whistled through the air. Everyone instinctively ducked for cover. Then the firing stopped.

"That's the Turkish welcoming party," said a tough-looking soldier who was missing several teeth, "about half way up them hills there are Anzacs fighting hand to hand with the Turks. Up there on Chunuk Bair, the trenches are so close you can hear the Turks farting at night. Anyway, we reckon you blokes are going up there to take them heights from 'em."

Meanwhile, Colonel Holmes had established his headquarters beneath Chunuk Bair.

He set about exploring the battlefield and getting a feel for the lay of the land. He and his staff walked around the immediate area, trying to map out the Turkish defence system. In the distance, he could hear the muffled roar of artillery. He was pleased to have Major Travers, his brother-in-law, and New Guinea campaign veteran with him as commander of one of his battalions. His only son, Lieutenant Basil Holmes, was also with the brigade.

"This will be a different fight to our experiences in New Guinea," said Holmes. "The Turks are well entrenched and have short supply lines. The enemy can easily move reinforcements around the battlefield to meet any threats."

"The Turk is a fierce opponent," added Travers. "The Allies have been battering away at him for four months and he hasn't given much ground."

"We're going to change that. When we hit the Turk, we have to hit him hard. No half measures. We'll send the lads over the top to grab the Turkish trenches and once we have 'em we'll launch attacks deeper into Turkey."

Travers looked optimistically towards the hills looming before them. He looked down at his map. "Over there, that is Chunuk Bair and that is Hill 60." Holmes looked up at the dark, brooding shape. They ventured inland near Bauchop's Hill, and followed a narrow gully leading into the hills. The occasional bullet whistled over their heads. They crawled up a slope and came to a high point where they could see the surrounding landscape. Holmes pointed to a trench cut into the slope and leapt in. He peered into the gloom of the cave-like trench. He saw a dark shape leaning against the cave wall and hoped he was an Australian. He reached for his revolver.

"Lookout, we have visitors. I hope you lot aren't Turks, no, a couple of officers," said the dark shape.

"At ease men, I'm getting a feel for the lay of the land. Have you anything to report?"

"Private Tom Goodenson is my name, sir. Mad Tom is what everyone calls me. Welcome to my home. May I say it is refreshing to see a senior officer this close to the Turkish trenches. The Turks are so close; we can hear 'em snoring at night."

In the gloom, Holmes could see that Private Goodenson was dirty and unshaven.

Further in depths of the tunnel, two voices called out, "Present and correct, sir."

"How deep is this tunnel?" asked Holmes.

"Sir, right into the heart of this hill. We've been digging for months. When we're far enough into the hillside, we're gonna load it up with explosives and blow the Turks sky-high."

Holmes crouched down and moved as far down the tunnel as he could. He peered into the depths.

"Very impressive," he remarked. "You've even got timber supports. How long have you been here?"

Mad Tom put a dirty finger to his mouth and tapped his chin. "Four months, but it seems longer. I was part of the landing on the first day and this is as far as we got."

Holmes rejoined Travers in the main trench. They examined the map and conferred. Holmes cautiously peered through his binoculars and scanned the terrain. From his vantage point, he could see the Turkish trench system. He handed the binoculars to Travers. They agreed the Turkish trenches were heavily fortified.

"That there is Hill 60," said Mad Tom. "I reckon there's several thousand Turks dug in up there."

Holmes turned to go.

"Good luck, sir," called Mad Tom.

They made the dangerous journey back to headquarters. A Turkish sniper fired a few shots, narrowly missing them. A jumpy sentry nearly shot them as they emerged from a gully.

A messenger arrived and summoned him and his company commanders to headquarters, where they received final orders for the attack on Hill 60.

Holmes returned to his headquarters and called his battalion commanders together. He outlined their objectives. He told them that their actions could decide the fate of the Gallipoli campaign. Although he did not use the exact words, it was clear to every commander that this was the last throw of the dice. Everything hung on a breakthrough. He handed out maps of Hill 60. "I expect all of my officers to storm the hills with the men and take their assigned objectives. To your positions!"

In the early afternoon, officers began to stir the troops. "Time to go lads, do your best, the eyes of Australia are on us all," said an officer.

Milne collected his gear and stood with Lawson, who was checking over his rifle. George and Marcus stood next to them. George looked nervous, but tried to hide it under a bit of bravado. "Those Turks will wish they had never met us, eh boys."

Their sergeant rushed over to them clutching a map. He looked pale and worried. He pointed vaguely towards a low, scrubby hill in the distance.

They moved forward. They were still not sure whether they were going to attack or if they were to take over a section of the trench line to relieve other troops. They saw groups of soldiers lying or sitting on the ground. "Go give the Turks hell, boys!" they shouted in encouragement.

For Milne, it all seemed unreal. Ever since landing the night before, they had wandered around in a haze of mystery and false alarms. Officers told them to prepare for battle, and then told them to stand down. The officers told them to make camp, and a few minutes later, told them to break camp.

Lawson, as always, kept up a stream of chatter, jokes and stories about his life. "Now when me and young Francis here was at the Black Cat with Freda and Asami, that was the life...yes, you've never seen two more beautiful...and willing women... those were the days..."

"Stop that chatter, Lawson," their irritable sergeant said fiercely. "We're in the middle of a battlefield. One more word from you and you're on report." He pointed towards the low hill and said, "Hill 60 and we're going to take it." He dashed off to confer with the platoon commander.

He came back a few minutes later and said nervously, "God save us, we're going in."

They crouched down and watched as shells fell on the Turkish trenches.

"I hope our artillery boys are good shots," joked Lawson, "otherwise, we're all about to look like Swiss cheese."

"Shut up for God's sake," shouted the sergeant. "This is no laughing matter."

"Sarge, there's a funny side to everything if you look hard enough," shot back Lawson.

The sergeant was about to say something when the men in front of them began moving forward.

They set off behind them, moving in an arc across rough, scrubby country. Milne looked around for familiar faces and saw Lawson and George straining under the weight of their heavy packs and ammunition. Officers shouted for them to move faster, and they broke into a trot.

The artillery bombardment gradually stopped.

In the hazy afternoon light, they came to the last trench and prepared to go over. Marcus pointed up the slope. They could see the heads of Turkish soldiers popping up in trenches around the base of Hill 60. The Turks were calling them to run into their bullets.

An officer spun around and shouted, "Fix bayonets!"

They leapt out of the trench and dashed into the rough, hilly terrain. They came to a hedge and broke through towards the Turkish trenches. Ahead, the first line of attackers overran a trench. The Turks abandoned it and fled into the surrounding scrub. The Australians shot the fleeing enemy and shouted out insults.

Milne and Lawson arrived in the trench. Several soldiers had settled in thinking they had gained their objective. "That was easy," said a young soldier.

Lawson laughed. "Don't be a bloody drongo; we're going up there, right Marcus?"

Marcus pointed ominously to the summit. He was about to answer when the Turks poured down a murderous hail of rifle and machine gun fire on them. An officer shouted for the first wave of attackers to move forward.

Their sergeant ran up to them and said, "Come on lads, at 'em." However, he held back, almost cowering under the hail of bullets pouring down the slope. The Turks shot down the first line of infantry. Men flew into the air clutching their heads or bodies; others quietly slumped to the ground.

For Milne, his world narrowed to a moment in time filled with the noise of explosions and the terrible shrieks of the wounded. Torn between wanting to run the other way, and wanting to attack the enemy to make them stop firing, he rushed forward. Lawson was ahead of him, shouting at the top of his voice. Milne could not hear what he was saying over the noise. Marcus and George were running beside him. They were now the front line of the attack; the enemy had killed or wounded all those in front of them.

They came to a small hill, which provided some cover from the bullets. Their sergeant, who had caught up with them, pushed his way into the dip of the hill. "Everyone stay here; don't move until more troops come up to support us."

Milne looked over to their left and saw that their flank was exposed to a group of Turkish bomb throwers, who were hurling bombs at the advancing troops. More soldiers coming up behind them fell wounded or dead on the slope. He looked to the sergeant for leadership.

"Sarge, we're dead if we stay here, look," he said, pointing at the bomb throwers.

The sergeant had gone into a trance and kept repeating that they should stay where they were.

A shiver went down Milne's spine; Turkish soldiers were setting up a machine gun on their left in the same trench as the bomb throwers. He turned to the others; many of them wounded, and said he was going to attack the Turks before they could set up the machine gun.

"We better do it fast," said Lawson. "They'll have that bloody machine gun ready for action. Well, here goes."

He bounded out of the dip so fast that he left the others behind. In three huge jumps, he reached the Turkish trench and dived in, taking the Turkish machine gun team down with him.

Milne, George and Marcus dashed in behind him. They sprinted across the slope exposed to the murderous fire coming down. When they crashed into the trench, Lawson was fighting like a demon. He had already shot and bayoneted two soldiers. They joined the melee - it wasn't so much a military engagement as an all in pub brawl. They found themselves not in a trench, but a small redoubt, lined with sandbags. The Turks had used it as an observation post. An artillery shell had scored a direct hit earlier and there were burnt and shattered bodies lying in heaps, and only the machine-gun crew and a few bombers were defending the position.

Now it was hand-to-hand. They used their rifles as clubs, bayonets as knives. A young Turkish soldier ran at Milne and thrust his bayonet at him. He dodged the thrust, and plunged his bayonet into his enemy's face. The bayonet went through his eye and pierced his brain. He fell back crying in pain and blood spurted out of his eye socket like a water bubbler. Milne pulled out his bayonet, just in time to stab a Turkish soldier about to shoot George. The Turk, an older man with a large greying moustache, cried out and seized hold of his rifle. He was crying out to his friends for help. Milne tried to pull out his bayonet, but the Turk wouldn't let go. He pushed him away with the bayonet still stuck in him, and picked up another rifle lying next to a dead soldier. Just as he did so, two Turks ran at him. One stopped to aim his rifle. The other kept running towards him. A shot from behind felled the soldier aiming his rifle at Milne.

The other Turkish soldier brought his rifle crashing down on his head. The blow knocked him backwards. George shot him before he could bayonet Milne. He grabbed his head and felt the warm blood flowing down his face. In a dream-like state, he saw Lawson swinging his rifle like a cricket bat, beating off the desperate Turkish attackers. He saw him pick up a Turkish soldier like a mannequin and throw him over the edge of the trench. He was howling and shouting, cutting a swath through the Turks. Piles of wounded and battered Turks surrounded him. One wounded soldier reached his dirty hand up and tried to grab him. Lawson battered him senseless.

Milne, now high on adrenalin, pulled himself together. He gathered the men together. George was in a state of high excitement. "I killed him," he kept saying, "bashed his head in with my rifle."

"Where's our sergeant?" asked Milne.

Marcus pointed back to the hill where they had been sheltering, and said, "Dead."

Of the twenty men from the unit that started up the slope, six, including Marcus, Lawson and George were still standing. The rest lay dead or wounded on the slope or in the redoubt.

The post they had captured was part of an elaborate Turkish trench system. A wide trench connected the redoubt to this trench system. Sitting a little higher than the Turkish trench, they could see into the enemy trench. While this position gave them access to the inner Turkish trench system, it also meant the Turks could use this trench to attack them. Aware that the Australians had captured their strategic redoubt, the Turks directed fire on them. A small detachment of Turkish soldiers counterattacked from the trench.

However, after Milne's unit had captured the redoubt, reinforcements had climbed into the position. These soldiers poured fire into the Turkish trench, and broke up the attack. More soldiers arrived, including a machine-gun section. An officer from their battalion with a terrible head wound rolled into their position. Milne saw that he had gone into shock. He was mumbling incoherently. "I'm in command here," he kept saying, "I'll arrest anyone...um...for disobeying orders." Milne took him by the shoulder. "Sir, the Turks are about to attack again. We need you to help the machine gunner feed the clips into the gun." The officer looked up at him blankly. "All right, these are my orders. Private Milne, I order you to defend this trench to the last man. The rest of you follow Milne. I'll just have a little rest." He lay on the ground and started singing.

Milne ordered them to lay sandbags across the entrance to their position and dig in. He realised that if the enemy retook the redoubt, they could fire straight into the Australians still coming up the hill.

"Listen all of you, we can't retreat," he shouted over the noise. "The Turks are going to try to retake this position. We will have to be strong. We'll show 'em what Aussies are made of! For Australia, our dear, dear country!"

His words filled every soldier with an indomitable will to fight. In the distance, they could hear the enemy coming towards them. The only good news was that more Australian soldiers had climbed into their redoubt. A wounded officer fell in, covered in blood. Milne gave him a quick report. The officer fainted from loss of blood. Once more, Milne found himself in charge. He did not like the responsibility thrust onto his shoulders. He did not like that the others looked to him to tell them what to do. He looked around at Lawson who nodded to him. "We've decided to make you an honorary general," he quipped.

There was a sudden roar, trumpets blasted and Turkish soldiers burst out of the trench entrance singing and shouting. This was no time to debate who should be in charge. The only thing that stood between them and annihilation was their desperate will to survive. They had set up strong defences, which included two machine guns, and several bags of captured bombs. Their rifles and machine guns ran hot and the bodies piled up. The Turkish soldiers charged. More came behind, climbing over the rapidly growing mound of corpses. But they could not break through. Milne and his little band desperately held on astonished at the reckless bravery of the Turks. At last, the attackers retreated leaving behind piles of dead and dying soldiers.

The soldiers, covered in dirt and blood, let out a mighty cheer. The battle had shifted further along the hillside. This gave them a few moments to take stock and catch their breath. Milne looked around to their left and right. He could not see any other units, and wondered what was happening. He sent a messenger to report on their position and asked for further orders.

"Look, over there, the rest of the battalion is withdrawing," said George. "What the hell is going on, we were ordered to take the summit."

The attack all along the front halted in the face of fierce resistance. The Turks still held the summit of Hill 60. The noise of the battle subsided. There were around twenty soldiers in the redoubt. They were not sure what they should do. All their officers were dead or wounded. Some argued that the attack had failed and they should withdraw. Others said they should keep advancing.

Milne said that if they fell back snipers would pick them off. "If we dig in here, we gain the initiative. We force the Turks to attack us. Collect up all the sandbags you can find and place 'em along the trench."

A number of soldiers including George and Marcus agreed they should stay.

"Until an officer tells us different," added Lawson, "we stay here."

"Look over there!" shouted George. "Hundreds of 'em."

They looked up the hill to their right. They could not believe what they were seeing. Hundreds of attackers were charging down the hill in the evening gloom with fixed bayonets, blowing trumpets, shouting and chanting, 'Allah Akbar!' Now it was the turn of the Turks to be exposed in the open to bullets and shells. They blasted away at the attackers, and the attack faltered. The survivors retreated in disorder.

Minutes later, another wave of attackers came charging down the hill. Milne, George, Lawson and Marcus were firing into the advancing enemy as fast as they could. To their right and left, machine guns joined the hurricane of fire pouring into the attackers. Lawson was shouting, "Wipe 'em out! Wipe 'em all out!" Despite appalling casualties, the brave Turks kept coming, firing and singing as they charged. They came right up to the edge of their trench. Lawson had taken over a machine gun and was pouring fire into the advancing enemy. George was chanting, "Please forgive me, Father," as he shot down one enemy after another. A few attackers managed to crash into the trench, but they were shot or bayoneted.

The battlefield fell relatively silent as both sides paused to gather their forces.

An officer arrived in their redoubt. He told them they would have to pull back because their flanks were exposed. They left the redoubt without incident. The officer directed them to take over a trench near their initial jumping off point.

Milne looked around and was relieved to see that his friends had all survived the battle. The battle had only lasted a few hours, but the battalion had suffered terrible casualties. He looked up the hill they had fought over and saw hundreds of dead and dying men on the hillside. He looked at Lawson, who had streaks of sweat and blood across his dirty face. George was panting and gasping for breath. Marcus was looking down at his dirty, cut hands. They all looked up the hill in disbelief. It had all happened so quickly. They watched as stretcher-bearers struggled down the hill with their gruesome loads. In the excitement, Milne had forgotten about his head wound. He felt his head, which was thick with congealed blood.

"You should see to that wound," said Marcus.

"It's not a bad wound," he replied.

Marcus shook his head. "In Gallipoli, a wound turns septic pretty quick. I'd get it seen to if I were you. There's a first aid post not far from here. So get going. Don't worry; we will look after the trench while you're gone."

"I'll come with you and get some ammo and water while we're at it," said Lawson.

The two friends set off for the first aid post. They slithered along the ground until they came to a gully. They were able to stand and make their way down the hill. Every few steps, they came across a wounded man or a corpse. The sheer number of dead and wounded had overwhelmed the medical services. Several overworked stretcher-bearers searched through the dead and dying, picking up those they thought the doctors could save. Milne asked one of them where the nearest first aid post was. The young medic pointed towards the beach.

Arriving at the beach, they saw hundreds of wounded lying in the open, exposed to snipers and shrapnel. They found the first aid post and Milne joined a queue of lightly wounded men, while Lawson went off to find water and ammunition. His head hurt now, and he hoped that the doctor might give him a couple of aspirin. At last, he made it to the front of the queue. A medical orderly looked over his wound, washed it and had a closer look. "Flesh wound," he said. "How'd you get it?"

"A Turkish rifle butt," replied Milne.

The medic nodded. "You'll be right." He bandaged up his head and gave him four aspirin.

Milne sat on the beach waiting for Lawson to return. He watched as stretcher-bearers carried more wounded in and laid them on every available space. The occasional Turkish shell crashed into the packed wounded. Shrapnel or snipers killed some of the wounded, or wounded them again. Despite the desperate situation, he could hear the soldiers calling out to each other and cracking jokes.

"Bloody hell, it's a mess," said Lawson, who arrived carrying ammunition and water. "No one knows what's going on. And look at these poor blokes on the ground. If I get badly wounded, just bloody shoot me."

They returned to their trench, moving along the gully to avoid being a more convenient sniper target in the afternoon light.

The others had worked to improve the trench. They had dug out the trench, found boards to put along the bottom, and built up a supply of bombs. Other units had come up on either side of them, and they had dug a rough trench system below the summit of Hill 60. For the next few days, they consolidated their precarious position.

Although the four friends had come through the battle largely unscathed, the silence allowed them time to reflect on what they had been through. Even George's bravado had been dampened by the sudden violence of the fight and the terrible sight of the dead and dying. Lawson found little to joke about for the moment.

Several days after the first attack on Hill 60, the Allies attempted to capture the summit again. The infantry attack commenced with a heavy bombardment of the enemy trenches. When the bombardment finished, Anzac and British troops charged forward. Milne watched the attack from their vantage point. It was a magnificent sight to see those brave men attacking the entrenched enemy positions.

The Turks defended desperately and beat them off. Attack and counterattack, counterattack and attack. Neither side could get an advantage. There was no way they were going to take that summit.

A few weeks later, the surviving members of their battalion moved into the trenches around Pope's Hill. The trench they took over was deeper and better reinforced. It was a relatively peaceful sector, which gave them time to regain their strength. Milne was amazed that he, Lawson, George and Marcus had survived the two battles. Lawson was leaning against the side of the trench, his face nuzzled into the dirt. His eyes closed. His uniform was torn and filthy, his hands and face covered in cuts and bruises. Marcus was sitting in a corner of the trench reading a tattered book. After what they had been through, he still found time to read. George was peering into a trench periscope. He kept up a constant stream of chatter. From his vantage point, Milne looked down on the activity on the beach far below. Landing craft brought in supplies from larger ships in the bay, and barges carrying wounded to the hospital ships went in the other direction. On shore, thousands of soldiers carried stores up the beach to storage areas under the cliffs.

They worked at improving their trench and making it as comfortable as possible.

Then they waited for orders.

### Chapter 10

Milne lay on his back staring into the night sky above Gallipoli. The sky was clear and the stars shone brightly. The sky changed colour, black turned slowly to light greyish pink, and clouds became visible.

He sat up on the dirt ledge that was his bed. He heard harsh coughing and the clink of spoon on tin cup. He took a hard, tasteless biscuit from his pocket and nibbled it.

Lawson sat up at the other end of the trench and threw his overcoat off. He stretched and yawned, scratched his head and spat. He searched among his meagre possessions for his tobacco pouch. "What a lovely day," he said, looking up at the sky. He grinned when he found his pouch and began rolling a cigarette. He waved at Milne.

It never ceased to amaze him how Lawson found a bright side to everything. Here they were, less than twelve yards from the Turkish trench system, hungry, cold, and crawling with lice. At any moment, the Turks might throw a bomb, mount an infantry attack or send a shell into their trench.

"Still alive?" Lawson called out. "We're on duty."

Milne nodded and walked over to George who was peering into the trench periscope. He looked up and smiled wearily. "Nothing to report. The Turks are as buggered as we are." Milne looked along the trench at Lawson who had taken over from Marcus.

He could hear the Turks moving about in their trench, and could smell the distinctive aroma of Turkish coffee and cigarettes.

Another day, another dull routine punctuated by the occasional skirmish with a Turkish patrol or a bomb-throwing duel. The fighting had settled down to a slogging match.

Later in the morning, a sniper arrived in their trench. He moved like a cat, carrying a rifle with a telescopic sight. He searched the area and found a good place from which to fire. When he set himself up, Milne could not see him his camouflage was so good. The sniper waited for a Turkish bomb thrower or an officer to stick his head over the top of the trenches opposite. About two hours after he arrived, they heard a rifle shot. He'd hit a Turkish bomb thrower who was about to lob a bomb into their trench. Milne heard the desperate voices of the Turks as they tried to throw the dropped bomb out of the trench. The bomb exploded amongst them.

"Take that!" shouted Lawson.

This infuriated the Turks and they opened fire. A Turkish officer unwisely stuck his head over the trench to see what was going on and became the sniper's second victim.

Both sides traded bullets and bombs.

The sniper scored a few more hits and then moved on. He promised to come back their way in a few days, but warned them that the Turks might send a sniper to retaliate.

Life in the trench dragged on minute by minute, day by day. They spent most of their time hunting for lice, and scavenging for food. They were on the end of a tenuous supply line and were short of water and food. All of them were sick – with dysentery, exhaustion and lack of sleep.

They got to know their Turkish opponents. They called out insults. When the officers weren't looking, they threw packs of cigarettes to them. In return, the Turks tossed over Turkish cigarettes.

"Those poor bastards are the same as us," said Lawson.

"No they're not," said Marcus. "They are conscripts. We are all volunteers."

"Shows how fucking mad we are, don't it," said Lawson provocatively. "We volunteered to sit in a trench being showered with bombs, shrapnel and bullets, in the heat and freezing cold, with nothing to eat, and crawling with lice. Any day could be our last, and we volunteered for this?"

"I know why I volunteered," said George. "If you don't like it, why did you volunteer, Lawson?"

"Because of him," he replied pointing at Milne. "I couldn't let the little bloke go to war without me."

Amidst the flies, the dirt, and their desperate situation, they laughed at his reply. The Turks, whose trench was within earshot, asked them what was so funny.

"Mohammad, why are you here?" called back Lawson. "You understand. Why you here?"

"I defend my country from infidels," one of the Turks shouted back.

"We don't want your country, we want you to abandon your alliance with Germany," replied Marcus, as if he was on a university debating team.

Lawson laughed. "Is this a bloody debate or is this a war – let's chuck some bombs at 'em."

"Yeah, we'll blow 'em back to Constantinople," said George.

George was preparing a bomb to throw, when someone called out to him. They looked around startled by the appearance of a filthy soldier in a ragged uniform wearing a Turkish cap.

"Gidday boys, we're neighbours," he called. "Don't start chucking bombs."

"Who are you?" asked George.

"Private Tom Goodenson." He saluted. "Mad Tom is what everyone calls me. Even the Turks call out, 'Mad Tom, you die tonight.' Welcome to my home."

Lawson pointed his rifle at him. "Are you sure you're not a Turk? Talk fast or you're dead."

"Settle down boys," he replied affably. "My trench is just along a bit. I can show you the finer points of bomb throwing. The Turks are good at it, and they'll make short work of you lot."

"How long have you been here?" asked Milne.

"Feels like it was years ago. There were a few more of us then. I'm the last one left from the blokes who landed with me. Reinforcements get up here, stick their heads up, and bang! Turkish snipers. So I roll their bodies down the hill for the burial parties. Last bloke in my trench got into a bomb-throwing duel with the Turks. He was doing well for a week. One day he was throwing back a bomb when it exploded in his hand. Blew his arm clean off. Poor bugger died of shock. We weren't issued with any bombs in the early days. So we had to raid Turkish trenches and collect up all the bombs we could find. We also make our own bombs. Now we got enough bombs loaded in the trench to blow us to kingdom come if a shell hits us."

They warmed to Mad Tom. He had settled into life living in the trenches as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Milne figured that if Mad Tom had survived this long, he must know a thing or two.

Milne asked him where his trench was. Mad Tom pointed vaguely up the hill.

"About as far up as you can go before you hit the Turkish trench system. Are you all new at this game?"

"Nah, Francis and me are veterans of the New Guinea campaign," said Lawson, puffing out his chest.

"Have you tried getting any further up the hill?" asked Milne.

"No, my trench is the end of the line. If you look over to the right, you can just make out a group of New Zealanders. Tough bastards. The Turks have tried taking their trench, but the Kiwis beat off every attack. Over to your left is a group of Western Australians. Daredevils they are. They've tunnelled into the hillside like moles."

"Have the Turks tried to storm your trench?"

"They've tried several times. But we're dug in so deep they can't get us out. So, we can't go any further up the hill, and the Turks can't go any further down the hill."

A messenger stuck his head in the trench and warned that Turkish patrols were in the area looking to take prisoners. Moments after he spoke, a firefight erupted near their position.

"Well, you blokes are lucky, I'll have to stay a bit longer and tell you my plan to defeat the Turks and win the war. My plan is to turn water jets on the Turkish trenches and sluice away the soil. The soil around here is soft. It will give way. Their trenches will collapse and the Turks will roll down the hill where our lads will be waiting for them. Before the war, I was a gold miner in Kalgoorlie. A jet of water under pressure can move whole hills."

Milne peered into Tom's face wondering if the man was not right off his rocker. He could see the earnest look on his face to know he wasn't kidding. He replied, "If our men were standing below hosing the Turkish trenches, the Turks will fire bullets and shells at 'em."

"No, you bloody nong," replied Mad Tom, "you wouldn't have blokes standing out in the open with bloody garden hoses. I'm talking about huge mining hoses. You set up a contraption to hold the hose in place, and run it all the way back to the beach. Then you turn on the pumps and shoot jets of water into the hillside. The force of the water has the power of artillery shells. Anyway, I've told the officers about my plan and they just laugh. But everything else has failed so far. Why not try something new is what I say."

Milne scratched his head. George and Lawson remained silent.

"You've been on this hill for nearly five months, how have you survived?" asked Milne.

"I'm good at bomb throwing – and the same reason you blokes survived the attack at Hill 60 – luck. You know, I watched your attack from my trench. Damnedest thing I've ever seen! Tell me, how many of the blokes that landed with you from your battalion are still alive?"

The four of them tried to count the dead and wounded. "There was Fred...he died in the first few minutes, and Alf, Gerald...Robert, Dick...our company sergeant major died the day after, Major Cyril Lane...good bloke Cyril...Captain McKean was wounded, our sergeant was killed in the first few minutes ...I felt sorry for him...our company commander was wounded...then there was our platoon leader...don't remember his name...copped some shrapnel..."

"Maybe two thirds of the battalion have been killed or wounded since we landed," concluded Marcus.

They fell silent. They had not stopped until now to think about the mates they'd lost. As each of them remembered lost friends, a pall fell over them.

"Geez, you know how to cheer a bloke up," said Lawson.

"My point is that you blokes have survived for a reason," said Mad Tom. "See, when your number's up, there's not a lot you can do about it. But I have a plan to revenge myself against the Turks for all my dead mates."

Mad Tom pointed at Milne. "Come back to my trench and I'll show you."

"I'll come along as well," said Lawson. "We'll be back in a bit."

They followed Mad Tom and slid down to a narrow path. He moved cautiously, keeping an eye out for enemy soldiers. He told them they had to run across the next bit of the path. He dashed across and jumped into a gully. Milne and Lawson followed him. A few shots rang out as they broke cover, but they moved too quickly for the snipers to get a good shot. Tom, bent double, crept along the path, and then turned up the hill. The hill, covered in shrubs and rocks, provided some cover. There were a few rotting corpses here and there, in crumpled heaps. Tom nipped up the hill like a mountain goat. They followed behind awkwardly.

They came to a trench. From here, they could see the Australian trench system stretching along the hill. They scrambled into the trench, which was deep and had a timber floor. Trench periscopes were placed along the top of the trench at strategic places. Smaller trenches ran off the larger trench, and the soldiers had dug out caves and recesses to give them some protection and places to sleep.

Tom waited for them to catch up. "Here we go boys."

They saw a large opening in the trench. Tom disappeared inside on his hands and knees. Milne was first in. He was astonished at the size of the excavation.

"I brought a couple of visitors from over the way," called Mad Tom. "A couple of new blokes just landed a month back. Welcome to our neighbourhood."

Deep inside the tunnel, two voices called out, "Gidday cobbers, make yourselves at home."

Milne and Lawson waited until their eyes adjusted to the dark. "How far into the hill does this tunnel go?" asked Milne.

"We're getting near the Turkish trench. When we're far enough into the hillside, we're gonna load it up with mines and explosives and blow 'em sky-high."

They crawled down the tunnel until it widened out into a large chamber. They stood up and watched as four miners, covered in dust and mud, dug into the earth. The miners stopped work for a few minutes to greet them.

Mad Tom sat at a small table on which sat a lantern. He unfolded a rough hand drawn map. "This is my trench, and this is your trench, here. Now if my calculations are correct, if you dig a tunnel from your trench you should arrive underneath the Turkish trench system in two weeks. My trench should hit the Turkish trenches in a week. Then we load both tunnels up with bombs, shells, mines, anything that explodes, and wait for the right moment to set the lot off. It will be beautiful."

"We should have orders before we start digging," said Milne.

"Yeah, fair enough, you go find your battalion commander and ask him what he thinks. I'll see you later. Try not to get your heads blown off on the way home."

They made their way back to their trench. When they arrived, they told the others about Mad Tom's plan. Both Marcus and George thought it was a brilliant idea. They wanted to start work immediately.

Later in the afternoon, a new officer climbed into their trench. He was an unassuming young captain with a laid-back attitude. He was impressed with the trench they had improved. Milne told him about the plan to dig a tunnel towards the Turkish line. He wrote out a request for orders and sent them to brigade headquarters to find their battalion commander.

The sun was going down as they headed for the coast. After stopping to ask directions, they arrived at a cluster of tents and earthworks beneath a cliff. They slung their rifles, walked into the waiting area, and stood to one side. There were a number of rooms leading off from the waiting area. Clerks and headquarter staff scurried back and forth. In contrast to the filthy rags Milne and Lawson wore, staff members were dressed impeccably. A senior officer made a comment about the state of their uniforms, as he walked by.

A young, neatly dressed clerk walked over to them. "Where are you boys from?" he asked politely. Lawson gestured towards the hills.

"We're in a trench up near Pope's Hill," added Milne.

The young clerk nodded. "You fellows have been through a lot up there," he said with a note of admiration in his voice.

A few staff members walked over to them to listen in. When the young clerk told them where Milne and Lawson were stationed, they shook their hands and patted them on the back. Milne was overwhelmed. Tears almost welled in his eyes.

_This is stupid,_ he thought, _here I am a hero to them and I'm about to burst into bloody tears._

An attendant came out and said their commander was in a meeting, but he would be out soon. Just then, General Holmes walked in. Milne thought he looked a lot older than the last time he saw him. The fierce fighting had taken its toll on everyone. Holmes was one of the few older commanders who were up to the rigours of Gallipoli, but even he was showing signs of fatigue. He was increasingly frustrated with the progress of the campaign. The intelligence reports about the location of the Turkish trenches turned out to be wrong. The artillery had not smashed the Turkish defences as expected. The battalions of the 5th Infantry Brigade had been decimated. Holmes looked at Milne and Lawson. He was about to say something when his aide said, "Sir, a messenger is outside. I believe it's a personal matter."

The messenger came in, saluted and said, "Pardon me sir; I thought you would want to know - your son has been wounded."

"No, it can't be. How badly?"

"Bullet wound to the head."

Holmes walked into his dugout and took off his coat. He turned to his aide and asked him if he could find out more.

His aide hurried out and returned quickly. "Sir, I heard he may have been evacuated to a hospital ship. I searched for him at the evacuation point but could not find him. Sir, there are wounded and dead everywhere. It's very chaotic. He may still be on the beach."

"See if you can find him. I need to know. I can't leave my post."

His aide saluted and left, leaving Holmes alone. _My son, my only son._ He walked to the entrance of his dugout and looked out as if expecting to see him. _Now he lies on the cold ground somewhere, bleeding, perhaps dying. And I can't comfort him._ He remained standing lost in thought until his aide returned, looking pale and worried.

"Sir, I went down to the beach, but I couldn't find him. I did find Major Travers. He's been severely wounded in the thigh and leg. He has lost a lot of blood and is being evacuated."

"My son-in-law seriously wounded! My poor daughter Dorothy – her brother and her husband wounded, possibly dead. How much more can one family give to our country?"

Holmes became aware of Milne and Lawson who were watching the unfolding drama. He looked at them absentmindedly. "Milne isn't it...yes...I remember you and young Cliff Lawson from Rabaul. Those were the days."

They stood at attention and saluted, but Holmes told them to stand at ease. Milne showed him his orders. Holmes looked them over and told him to report to his aide. He turned away and walked into his dugout. Milne watched him go, and said to Lawson, "I hope it turns out all right for him."

They reported to Holmes's aide, a young, lively looking man with a clipped moustache. He looked over the orders, scurried off to find their battalion commander, and returned with a note addressed to their new captain. He folded the note and put it in an envelope. "See you don't accidentally open this," he said sternly.

They headed back to their trench. "This looks like a good enough place to read the note," said Lawson.

Milne quickly put the note in his pocket. "Are you mad? You heard what he said. We're not to read it."

"Don't be a bloody idiot, give me the damn note. It could be something to do with us."

"No, we were given an order..."

"Move along up front," shouted a soldier behind them. "We're taking hot food up to the trenches."

"We're going that way," said Lawson, "just follow us. You blokes will be welcome around here. We haven't had hot food for weeks."

"So sorry the service is a bit slow, mate, but the Turks keep shooting at us."

They led them to the trench. "Come on boys, dinner is served."

The food delivery party counted the number of men in their trench and gave them their rations. Lawson looked at his. "This wouldn't feed a mouse."

"Where's our new captain?" asked Milne.

George pointed over his shoulder to the trench where a body lay covered by a blanket.

"Is he having a nap?"

"Yeah, a permanent one," replied George. "About ten minutes after you left, he was shot in the head by a sniper. A sergeant joined us a few minutes ago. He's the most senior, so he can open the orders."

Milne reported to the sergeant, a wiry Scotsman with a red face, who opened the envelope and took out the orders. He mumbled for a few minutes, and told him that they were to capture a Turk, preferably an officer and bring him back to headquarters for questioning.

"These bloody officers keep finding ways to get us killed," said Lawson.

"When do we have to do this?" asked George.

The sergeant checked. "Tonight. Private Milne, I want you to take a volunteer with you and capture an enemy officer."

George immediately put up his hand. "No Private Batten, I need someone with experience." He looked at Lawson, who rolled his eyes.

"So when you said a volunteer, you actually wanted me to volunteer."

He and Milne sat back in the trench waiting for the moment to move. Every few minutes, Milne looked through the trench periscope to see if there was any activity between the trenches. All was quiet. Near midnight, he and Lawson checked once more through their equipment. Lawson tested out his cosh. He whacked it on the side of the trench. "This should knock our prisoner out."

When all was ready, they slipped over the lip of the trench and slithered towards the Turkish lines. They moved forward and then lay still. Milne saw movement on their right and signalled Lawson to lay still.

"Looks like some of our blokes out on patrol," said Lawson. "We'd better signal to them."

"No, don't move, I think it's an enemy patrol."

They lay still. Milne froze when he saw in a flash of light that it was an enemy patrol, moving towards them. He signalled to Lawson not to move. They both gripped their rifles. There were corpses strewn around the ground, so if they lay still the Turks might think they were dead. The patrol slithered forward like snakes, creeping nearer. A shot rang out from the Australian trenches. Milne heard a cry and the patrol retreated to their lines, leaving behind one of their number.

"Let's grab him," said Lawson, "we're liable to get our 'eads blown off if we get any closer to their trench."

Milne thought for a few moments. He could hear the wounded Turk calling for help. Before he could make a decision, he heard a voice behind him. It was young George.

"What are you doing here?" whispered Milne. "I told you to stay in the trench. Go back."

"I can't learn anything sitting in a trench," he replied.

He was not about to have an argument with George in the middle of no-man's-land. "All right, you and Lawson drag the prisoner back to our trench."

Lawson and George slithered across to the wounded man, grabbed him and dragged him back towards their trench. When he saw that Australian troops were dragging him, he resisted and cried out. Lawson walloped him with his cosh until he fell silent. The commotion stirred up the Turks, who fired into the darkness. Australian troops opened fire as well. The bullets whizzed over their heads. They lay with their faces buried in the dirt as the two sides exchanged bullets and bombs.

When the firing died away, they moved backwards towards their trench. Milne called out to the soldiers in their trench that he was returning with a prisoner.

The main problem they had was that the ground rose nearer their trench. This meant they would be exposed to fire from the alerted enemy. Behind them, Milne could hear harsh Turkish voices. He assumed that the wounded man's colleagues had returned to the spot their wounded friend lay and were searching for him. He looked back and could see by the moonlight that an enemy patrol was on their tail. He signalled to Lawson and George that the Turks were close behind and they should move fast. Lawson grabbed his prisoner by the scruff of his neck and leapt into their trench, pulling him behind. The Turks put up a furious fire. A hail of bullets zipped over their heads. George looked back at Milne, shook his head and turned towards the patrol. He returned fire for a few minutes before a bullet struck him. He cried out, "Oh, I'm done for!"

Milne was in a dilemma – he could not decide whether he should rescue George or crawl back to his own trench and save himself. He looked back at George who had stopped firing and lay still. He heard him call, "Don't let 'em capture me, boys."

Lawson called to him, "Come on mate, the Turks are mad as hell, get back 'ere."

The Turks stopped firing for fear of hitting their patrol, which was crawling towards George. The Australians stopped firing for fear of hitting George or Milne. The sergeant ordered him back to the trench. He flattened himself as close to the ground as he could and slithered forward. He fell into the trench. As soon as he did, the Australians fired on the Turkish patrol, and drove them back to their position.

He sat at the bottom of the trench panting. He looked over his arms and legs checking for wounds. Lawson was sitting in a corner, guarding the prisoner. The prisoner was an older, serious looking officer. His wounds were not serious. A trickle of blood ran down his face from a head wound. The bullet had stunned him for a few minutes and the whack on the head from Lawson had knocked him out. He did not smile, but he did not seem worried or fearful. He puffed on a Turkish cigarette watching his captors carefully. His eyes moved from one soldier to the next. He stared at Milne for a long time. Lawson handed Milne and the prisoner a hot cup of tea. The prisoner gratefully drank the tea.

Twenty minutes later, an armed guard arrived to take the prisoner to headquarters for interrogation. The dignified Turk stood up and nodded towards Milne. He said something in French before the guards escorted him to headquarters.

"He saluted your bravery," said Marcus.

The firing died away. Milne took the risk and peered over the trench. He could see that George was still alive. He was calling out, "Water...water...mother...mother...water."

Milne asked if he could rescue George, but the sergeant denied his request on the grounds of the danger of snipers picking off a rescue party.

Milne slumped on the trench floor and covered his ears with his hands. "Can't we do something?"

"It's getting light, anyone who goes out there is a dead man," said Lawson.

George cried out, "Harry is that you? Help...me lads...don't...let...oh Mary, please help me."

The sun came up. George was still calling out, but his voice was becoming weaker. All morning, he called out at intervals. In the afternoon, his voice became weaker and he called out less frequently. He fell silent. Milne looked through the trench periscope and saw that George had stopped moving.

During a lull in the fighting the following morning, both sides agreed on a truce so they could collect their dead and wounded. By the time they got to him, George was dead. When Milne saw him, he almost wept. He felt responsible for him. He sat in the dirt and bowed his head. Marcus sat beside him and tried to console him.

"What am I going to tell Mary? She asked me to look after him. What will I tell her father and mother? They've already lost their eldest son."

They carried George's body down to a small makeshift cemetery. The cemetery was a bare patch of earth with several hastily dug graves. Simple wooden crosses, some engraved with the soldier's name, marked most of the graves. A burial party had dug several shallow holes in expectation of more occupants. Milne, Lawson and Marcus wrapped George in his overcoat. They placed him gently in the earth, and threw earth over his body. Bowing their heads, Marcus said a few words for him.

While they were standing with heads bowed, Mad Tom joined them. He took off his filthy cap and bowed.

As they walked back to their trench, Mad Tom asked Milne whether he had thought anymore about digging a tunnel. Milne confirmed that his commander had ordered them to start digging.

"Those damn Turks are gonna pay for killing George," said Lawson. "If we can't get at 'em above ground, we'll burrow under and blow the bastards up."

Mad Tom sent over a couple of his experienced miners to help them out. They set to work immediately, taking turns working alongside the miners. Days went by as they became obsessed with digging underneath the Turkish trenches. It gave them a sense of purpose. They competed with each other to see who could dig the deepest and longest.

While they were digging, General Holmes dropped in to see how they were going. He insisted on roaming around the front lines and occasionally crossing into no-man's-land. His aides and staff officers came to fear going on a recce with him that often ended up with them dead or wounded. His energy and courage under fire inspired his men who became accustomed to his presence. If a new recruit asked who that bloody mad general wandering around in a hail of sniper fire was, his senior rank clearly displayed on his hat, the old hands would say, "Oh, that's old Holmes, our general; he'll be over for a chat later." Sure enough, he'd drop into a trench and ask how things were going.

Holmes climbed into their trench. "At ease, chaps." He peered into the tunnel. "Let's have a look."

"Sir, perhaps it's not wise to go in there," said his jumpy aide.

"Nonsense, man," replied Holmes, getting down on his hands and knees. He crawled inside. Milne and Lawson were on tunnel digging duty and saluted. He gave them a knowing look.

"It seems everywhere I go, you two pop up," he said smiling. "How are you going?"

"Sir, we are all right, but we lost a lot of mates on Hill 60," replied Lawson.

Holmes looked down and picked up a handful of dirt. "This is sacred earth. It is now part of you and me. It is part of Australia. Many of the soldiers who fought in New Guinea are buried up there. Now they lie together in Turkish soil. The memories, the lives these men lived are now part of the soil. All those young lives given gratefully for their country, that most sacred cause, that most blessed calling. I saw them charge up that hill. They sprang up full of life and vigour only to die for our young country. When we are gone, they will remain in the earth. All those heroes left behind forever part of Australia. Their valour will never be forgotten and it will become their deathless monument."

Holmes continued his inspection of the frontline trenches, leaving them to reflect on their lost friends. The candles and lanterns cast eerie shadows on the tunnel walls. Some men bowed their heads, some prayed; some looked straight ahead full of determination.

Marcus pulled out an empty bottle of aspirin and filled it with earth. He handed it to Milne. "This is in memory of George. He would want to be remembered and I know he looked up to you."

Milne closed his fingers around it, and put it in his pocket. "I'll treasure this for the rest of my life."

They returned to tunnel digging with renewed energy. One night, Milne and Lawson were on digging duty. Lawson was singing, out of tune, making up the words to songs that he had forgotten. Milne was resting against the tunnel wall. He laughed as Lawson's lyrics became cruder. Then he heard something strange deep in the earth.

"Quiet!" he said. "Listen, I can hear something."

Lawson stopped work and listened. "I can't hear nothing, what are you on about?"

Milne held up his hand and pressed his ear to the earth wall in front of them. "I can hear digging."

They stopped digging and listened.

"It could be Mad Tom's tunnel," said one of the miners.

Milne sent a soldier around to Tom's tunnel to check with him.

They stopped work and listened intently. The digging noise was getting closer.

Mad Tom arrived and crawled into their tunnel. He pressed his ear against the earth. "That's coming from the left; our tunnel is on your right. The Turks are digging a tunnel. Bugger it."

Lawson looked at the others. "They could dig into our tunnel..." He didn't have time to finish his sentence. The sound of digging became louder and louder. They watched in astonishment as a pick came through the earth wall.

They scrambled to get their rifles and take cover. The digging stopped on the other side. Mad Tom signalled to them to blow out the candles and lanterns. They held their breath. The barrel of a rifle slowly pushed through the earth. The barrel withdrew. Silence again.

"Bomb," whispered Tom.

They moved back towards the entrance of the tunnel.

A few moments later, a bomb exploded filling the tunnel with smoke and flying earth and dust. In the clouds of dust, several figures emerged from a gaping hole.

"Fire!" shouted Mad Tom.

In the confined space, the roar of rifle fire deafened them. The Turks fired back. An enemy soldier lit a bomb but Lawson shot him before he could hurl it. Another Turk tried to pick it up, but Lawson shot him as he did. The bomb exploded in the tunnel. More smoke and dust filled the confined space. They were now in danger of choking to death. Tom told them to fall back and collect as many bombs as they could.

They crawled out of the tunnel coughing and gasping for breath. They collected the bombs, and tossed them in. Moments later the bombs exploded, causing the tunnel to partially collapse. Dust poured out of the tunnel entrance. They stood back in the trench and waited for the dust to settle.

Mad Tom bent down and looked inside. "Well, no Turks will be getting through there."

"Yeah, what a bloody waste of time, all that bloody digging for nothin'," said Lawson.

They returned to the monotony of trench life. The cold weather added to their misery, although it did get rid of the flies that plagued them.

Mad Tom continued his tunnel, which the Turks had not detected yet. Milne and Lawson went over to help. The tunnel was finished a few days later, and they loaded it with explosives. They returned to their trench and waited. A runner arrived to tell them that Mad Tom was about to detonate the explosives.

For the next week, they waited for the explosion. Nothing happened.

"What's Tom doing around there?" said Lawson. He decided to go and check. He came back an hour later. "Get ready, here we go!"

They ducked below the trench line and waited. The earth shook, and a shower of dirt, stones, and Turkish bodies fell on them.

Peering cautiously over the trench, Milne saw that the explosion had opened up a crater, and part of the enemy trench had collapsed. He could hear Mad Tom and his men cheering and firing into the Turkish soldiers trying to rebuild their trench. The soldiers from Milne's unit opened fire as well, and the firefight lasted for an hour. Turkish reinforcements arrived to help their comrades rebuild their trench.

A few hours later, the firing died down, and trench life returned to normal.

"Strewth, it's bloody cold," said Lawson, stamping his feet on the trench floor. "This accursed country - baking in summer and bloody freezing in winter."

The sun rose slowly over Gallipoli. The three friends, Milne, Lawson and Marcus, had survived everything that the Turks could throw at them. Now nature was conspiring to freeze them to death. The frosts arrived early on Gallipoli that year. During the day, a cold wind blew in from the mountains. The only shelter they had was their partially collapsed tunnel.

The fighting went on. Like two exhausted prizefighters, the two sides settled down to a war of attrition. The Turks launched the occasional attack on their trench, but these were half-hearted. Occasionally, Milne went on patrols into no-man's-land. Sometimes they encountered the enemy, and a fight ensued.

They received orders that they should not provoke the enemy. They were to defend themselves if attacked, but not engage in aggressive patrols.

"Come and have a look at this," said Lawson one morning. Milne walked over to the trench periscope. They looked at each other in surprise. They peeked over the trench and watched as a group of Turks wandered around between the trenches looking for firewood.

"Shouldn't we fire on 'em or something?" said Milne.

Lawson shrugged. "What's the point? They're not attacking us. Leave 'em alone."

Marcus and other soldiers joined them and peered over the trench. They watched as the firewood party collected what they could and returned to their trench. Ten minutes later, a note wrapped around a rock landed in their trench. The message, written in a mix of bad French and English, was from the Turks directly opposite them.

Marcus translated it. "The Turks are telling us not to get left behind when the British abandon Gallipoli. And they thanked us for not firing at them this morning."

"What rubbish," said Milne, "we're not leaving Gallipoli. It's a trick. The Turks are trying to undermine our morale."

"That wouldn't be hard, this campaign has been a bloody shambles from one end to the other," said Lawson bitterly.

"Why do you have to be so negative?" shouted Milne. "This war is not over yet. The Turks haven't thrown us off Gallipoli, despite them having the high ground. My God, they've tried again and again to kick us off these hills and they've failed every time. I reckon they are done in, and it's only a matter of time before they surrender. We just have to hold on."

Lawson laughed. "You're living in fucking wonderland, mate. You just don't want to admit that we've been defeated."

Milne shouted, "We haven't been defeated! The Turk has been defeated. This is their country and they haven't been able to throw us out. Marcus, what do you say?"

"Yeah, you're the egghead in this trench; all that education must make you smart," sneered Lawson.

"It isn't about victory or defeat," he replied quietly. "In any war, you lose battles and you win battles. History teaches us that a country can lose a few battles but win the battles that really matter. We learn from our mistakes."

This took the wind out of their sails. They tried to comprehend what this answer meant. Lawson piped up first, "So you're agreeing with me – you're saying we've lost this battle, but we'll win future battles that matter."

"He's not saying that at all," argued Milne.

Marcus agreed. "I'm not saying that at all."

"See, he's agreeing with me."

"No, I'm not agreeing with you either," he replied, wryly. "Future generations will wonder at how we clung to these barren hills while the enemy rained down shrapnel, bullets, and shells on us, month after month, and we never broke. This is about fortitude and resilience."

"Yeah, either that or people will think we were all mad as cut snakes!"

Once again, Lawson had a knack of bringing humour to a serious debate. Milne and Marcus, and the other soldiers listening in laughed. Milne playfully punched Lawson in the arm.

Milne suggested they send a note back to the Turks telling them the Allies will be in Constantinople by the end of the month. Marcus rolled his eyes but agreed. The other soldiers added a number of insults. He nodded, but wrote a more diplomatic response. He wrote it in French and tossed it back to the Turks.

A few minutes later, they heard derisive laughter from the Turkish trenches.

During the night, it rained and snowed heavily, adding to their misery. Their trench filled with water, and their dugout flooded. The narrow tracks and supply lines turned into rivers of mud. The Turks used the cover of snow to patrol along the front, probing the Australian lines. A few battles broke out near their lines. No one got much sleep over the next week.

The following morning, an officer arrived in their trench and warned them that observers had seen Turkish reinforcements moving into the front lines all along the hills. They stood ready all morning in the pouring rain. They encouraged each other and said no Turk was going to kick them off the ground they had captured. The Turks didn't attack.

One benefit of the cold weather was that they received extra rations of rum. At night, when they weren't on sentry duty, they crowded into their dugout to keep warm. The three friends pooled their rum ration. Marcus didn't drink, and he gave his ration to Lawson. For a few hours, they were able to drink and talk, and try to forget the appalling conditions they were living under.

But time was running out for Milne and Lawson. During a minor skirmish, both sides fired shells at each other. A Turkish shell crashed into their trench. The blast and shell fragments badly wounded them. Marcus, who survived unhurt, called for stretcher-bearers, but the rain and snow made the pathways difficult to travel on. Luckily, he had studied first aid and he was able to stem the bleeding. Milne was conscious and looked around for Lawson, who was lying in a crumpled heap. "Look after my mate; we've been through a lot together." Marcus nodded, but was worried when he saw the wounds to Lawson's chest; he had seen many men die from chest wounds.

Stretcher-bearers arrived to take them on the dangerous journey to the nearest first aid station. The heavy rain had washed away the paths. They carried them through the slush to a gully that was the quickest way to the beach. However, enemy snipers fired down this corridor night and day. A bullet struck one of the stretcher-bearers carrying Milne, he lunged forward and dropped him, sending him sliding down the gully. The unwounded stretcher-bearer dashed down the gully after him and pulled him out of the swamp that had formed at the bottom of the gully. He found another stretcher-bearer and they carried Milne to the first aid station.

A medic patched up Milne and the stretcher-bearers carried him to the beach, and placed him among a jumble of other wounded. He looked around but could not see Lawson. The wounded soldier next to him was making a strange gurgling sound in his throat. He looked at him to see if something was blocking his airways. Blood was oozing from the wounded man's mouth. "He's drowning in his own blood," Milne called. No one responded. He must have fallen asleep, because he felt himself being carried, but he didn't remember the stretcher-bearers picking him up. They carried him to a barge, already loaded with wounded, for transport to a hospital ship. He lapsed in and out of consciousness. He kept calling out, "Private Lawson...Cliff Lawson..."

"He's next to you," said an orderly.

He looked around. "Cliff, you right?"

"Ouch," he replied. "Am I missing anything?"

Milne stretched his neck to look at him. "You got two legs and two arms."

"At least we're out of that madhouse," said Lawson.

The barge moved slowly to the hospital ship where they were loaded aboard in batches. Orderlies carried him into the ship and put him in a clean bed. He nearly fainted with shock. After months of sleeping on the ground, a soft bed was a forgotten luxury. A young female nurse quickly looked over his wounds and started re-bandaging those that needed it. She smiled and spoke softly to him. She pulled his covers back and checked him over. He felt embarrassed. He hated to think what his underwear might look like. He looked down and realised he wasn't wearing any trousers or underwear. The explosion must have torn them off. A doctor came up beside her and looked over Milne's wounds.

"Is my mate all right?" he asked. The doctor nodded, and spoke to the nurse. They moved to the next patient.

He had not slept for days but fought against falling to sleep because he didn't want to die in his sleep. He wanted to be fully conscious as he slipped into the 'other world.' A doctor gave him an injection, which deadened the pain a little. As if in another world, a voice called to him to 'hang in there mate.' Early the following morning, stretcher-bearers carried him from the hospital ship to a waiting train. He woke up. A nurse was saying something to him. Stretcher-bearers carried him from the train to a hospital. A doctor gave him a powerful painkiller, rendering him unconscious.

Mary had been working as a nurse at the No.1 Australian Hospital at Heliopolis, a suburb of Cairo, since May. She barely had time to settle herself into the hospital before she went to work. The hospital was overwhelmed with thousands of wounded from the battlefields of Gallipoli. During August, the flood of wounded became a tidal wave, as the wounded flowed in from the battles at Lone Pine, the Nek and Hill 60. Many of the wounded arrived in a shocking condition: some had been lying in the open for days before the stretcher-bearers carried them to an aid station.

Mary and the other nurses worked heroically around the clock against appalling odds to save men brought in with terrible wounds. Some died as stretcher-bearers carried them off the trains, others within days of arriving. All the time that she was working, she knew that the stretcher-bearers might one day bring her brother George or Francis. She dreaded that day. She tried to forget her own worries, and concentrate on saving as many wounded as she could. She put her head down and worked hard. As the stretcher-bearers carried wounded into the hospital, she rushed about behind the doctors, stemming the flow of blood, administering medicine, calming the wounded and telling them they would pull through. Sometimes she held the hands of boys, some barely sixteen or seventeen, as they looked into her eyes and died. She never flagged or faltered. The hospital authorities shipped any nurse not up to it back to Australia. Mary astonished the other nurses with her stamina and work ethic. She worked shifts back to back until she could hardly stand. After her shift, she would stagger back to her bed, collapse on the covers, grab a few hours sleep, and get back to it.

Then the day arrived and her worst fears were realised. She recognised him immediately, despite the bandages. It was Francis. Alive, but gravely ill. She was dealing with other patients so could not talk to him yet.

Later that evening, she found him amongst the hundreds of wounded. He was conscious and recognised her.

"Mary, oh Mary," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry; there was nothing I could do."

"Why are you sorry?" she queried. "You have not wronged me."

"Haven't you been told about George?" he blurted out.

She went pale. "What do you mean...is he wounded?"

He looked at her helplessly. She was unaware that her brother was dead. "We were sent to capture a Turkish officer. George came along and as we were crawling back to our lines a sniper got him. I'm sorry...we left him..."

"What! You abandoned my brother on the battlefield. You should have carried him in. He might have..." For the first time since she had arrived at the hospital, she burst into tears. She rushed out of the ward sobbing. He sank into his bed. He explained to another nurse that Mary's brother was dead. He had assumed the authorities had informed her.

The wounded kept flowing in, and the hospital authorities decided to send the more gravely wounded home to Australia. They selected a number of nurses to look after the wounded on the hospital ship. In view of the loss of her brother, the authorities allocated Mary a place. She would have preferred to stay in the hospital, but she accepted that the wounded on the hospital ship needed care. She expected to return to the hospital in Cairo after her trip home.

As luck would have it, the hospital sent Milne and Lawson back to Australia on the first ship. His joy at seeing Mary amongst the nurses was short-lived. She barely spoke to him. He could not understand why she was so cold to him. It was not his fault her brother had died. There was nothing he could have done.

On the lonely journey home, he slowly recovered from his wounds. For Francis Milne and Cliff Lawson, their war was over for the moment.

News of the stalemate at Gallipoli appeared in the Australian newspapers. In Melbourne, Prime Minister Fisher, Billy Hughes and the Defence Minister, Senator George Pearce, met to discuss the war situation. There was an air of despondency in the room. Prime Minister Fisher looked pale and done in. He had a letter addressed to him by a young Australian journalist, Keith Murdoch, about his experiences of the Gallipoli campaign. Murdoch had also sent the letter to the British Prime Minister, Asquith. The gist of it was that the campaign was a badly managed disaster. He urged that the campaign be abandoned and the troops withdrawn.

Hughes was circling like a shark, sensing that Fisher had had enough of politics. His every movement betrayed his exhaustion. Hughes believed that he and he alone, could steer his country through the war and on to victory. He knew that he would not have to wait long for Fisher to stand down. The prime ministership would fall into his hands, and he would take his rightful place as leader.

"The August offensive did not break the stalemate, I'm afraid," said Pearce.

Fisher said nothing and excused himself. As soon as Fisher had left the room, Hughes said to Pearce, "I've been approached by certain colleagues about taking over as prime minister. Of course, I told them I did not want to destabilise the government. There is a rumour going around that Fisher wants to become Australia's High Commissioner to Great Britain, I think he would make an excellent ambassador."

"I don't know where that rumour started," said Pearce, ironically.

Hughes shrugged his shoulders. "One of the many mysteries of political life."

"I think Fisher has done well," said Pearce. "But the cost of the Gallipoli campaign grows ever higher. The dreamers and visionaries in the party are pushing him to implement our socialist agenda. As the first labour government in the world, they want to put the war to one side and move on with reform."

Hughes slammed his fist on the table. "What the dreamers fail to understand is that if the British Empire loses this war, there will be no Australian society to reform. We'll be a German colony under the Kaiser. Democracy will go out the window – the Kaiser will tell us what to do. He will get rid of freedom of speech. The dreamers will be taken out and shot. That's how things will be if we lose this fight. They need to be put in their place. Frank Tudor is the leader of that faction of Fabians and socialist utopians. I've met their kind before, in the early days of the Australian Socialist League. They infest the Labour Party like termites. My first loyalty, of course, is to Fisher. I have always stood loyally by him."

"Right behind him," said Pearce, without a hint of irony. "Your loyalty has hardly ever been questioned."

"I don't seek the highest office in the land for myself - but for my country. I am merely the instrument of the people. And the people expect us to prosecute this war with all our might, all our resources, all our determination. But time is short. We must make critical decisions about Australia's role in the war now. I do not think Fisher is able to make these decisions. I am prepared to challenge him for the leadership – not for me, but for my country."

"I don't think you need to challenge. You have the numbers."

"Then what's Fisher waiting for?"

"He wants to go at a time of his choosing. This will be soon. He has agreed to take up the London posting."

"It will be a heavy burden," said Hughes, "but I'm sure he will be up to the task."

"We have received an open invitation from the British to attend a colonial conference in London on the future direction of the war," said Pearce. "If you were prime minister, you would represent Australia."

Hughes rubbed his hands at the prospect of strutting the world stage. "It doesn't surprise me. The English have lost their way. Their losses at Gallipoli and in France have shocked the public. I fear the English are flagging in this war - they need someone to rally them. Asquith is a blithering idiot. A typical member of the British upper class \- he does everything by half measures. He dithers around. The British should replace him with a more able man like Lloyd George. Now there is a man of action. This is a war to the end, until Germany lies bleeding on the ground, begging for mercy. We must strangle her trade. Starve her people into submission - an economic war to the end. The Germans are fond of Wagner – we'll give them their Gotterdammerung!"

Fisher walked back in the room. He looked solemn but relieved.

"Gentlemen, the time has come. I have made my decision to stand down. Mr. Hughes, I seek your nomination for prime minister. I believe you have the full backing of the party."

Hughes stepped forward and shook Fisher's hand. "This is for the best. I will ensure Australia takes its place defending the Empire." He then turned to George Pearce and asked him to be his deputy, which he agreed to without hesitation.

"Now we will prosecute this war with everything we have," said Hughes. "Our soldiers, blooded in Gallipoli, are tough and resourceful. They will become a vital component of the British Empire armies on the Western Front."

Fisher looked sadly at Hughes. "I am done. God save Australia."

During late November and early December, rumours swept through the troops that the Allies were preparing to evacuate Gallipoli.

General Holmes received word from his commander that he was to evacuate his troops within a few weeks. He called his senior officers to a meeting to give them the news. An air of gloom hung over them. A lantern flickered on the table strewn with maps and drawings. Holmes rummaged around his dugout and found a bottle of whiskey. He poured them all a drink.

"We have done everything humanely possible to break through the Turkish lines," he said. "I don't know what else we could have done."

"I can't believe it, after everything we have been through, we are leaving," said an officer. "We have not won but we haven't lost either."

"There is talk at headquarters of exploding mines under the Turkish trenches and rushing their positions in a final battle," said Holmes. "General Birdwood himself has discussed this among officers."

"It's strange that we should be withdrawing now," said an officer. "Have you noticed how quiet the Turks have been lately? They haven't launched any major attacks to drive us from the hills for months. If you ask me, the Turks are beaten."

"My greatest heartache is that we can't take back to Australia all those soldiers who have fallen," said Holmes. "I fear that when we go the enemy will desecrate their graves."

"I've noticed as word has gotten around that we are evacuating Gallipoli," said another officer, "the men have been cleaning up around the graves of the fallen. Some are leaving notes, ribbons and water bottles by the graves. The troops hate to leave their dead mates. I heard one soldier say to another that he hopes the dead don't hear us leaving them."

They fell silent to reflect for a few moments.

"Now, to business," said Holmes, "we have orders to evacuate under the noses of the enemy. We will be pulling out of Gallipoli and redeploying in France. It is imperative that the enemy does not get wind of what we are doing. They have spies everywhere and will be alert to any large troop movements."

The night before Holmes left Gallipoli, he took a stroll to the base of Hill 60. There was a small makeshift cemetery near the Australian trenches. He looked at the wooden markers recording the names of the fallen. One marker grabbed his attention. It read, _Here lies Private George Batten. RIP. Remember me._

Holmes looked once more towards Chunuk Bair, and turned back to the beach.

### Chapter 11

Milne was awoken by shouts and cheering. He looked at Cliff, lying bandaged in the bunk opposite him. Soldiers swathed in bandages, some on crutches, and others helping their mates up, crowded around the hospital ship windows. He struggled out of bed and limped awkwardly to the window. He almost wept as he pressed his face against the window.

"What's all the bloody racket, can't a bloke get a bloody bit of kip around here," shouted Lawson.

"We're home," several soldiers shouted. They cheered and whistled. "Look at that, I didn't think I'd see the Sydney Heads ever again. Good old Australia, my word look at the ferries."

Lawson propped himself up on his pillow. "Good, another month of this and I'd be ready to bloody jump overboard."

Mary walked into the ward. "Everyone back in bed please, we don't want any accidents before we get you ashore, quickly. She nodded towards the window. "You're home, Francis."

"Mary, I hope we can see each other again now we are home," he pleaded.

"We can't speak of this now, I'm on duty."

She walked out of the ward.

Lawson had watched the exchange. "Geez, you've rubbed her up the wrong way, mate."

Later in the morning, the ship docked. It took most of the day to unload the wounded. He and Lawson went to the same hospital.

He caught glimpses of Mary from time to time. She was busy and paid him little attention. She stopped coming into the ward. He found out later that she had moved to another ward in the hospital. His heart ached for her. He did not know what he had done for her to treat him with such disdain.

He hoped she would visit him but she didn't.

Lawson was first to recover. His wounds had healed, although he had a temporary limp and stiff right arm. Nothing seemed to keep him down for long. The army discharged him as medically unfit.

"Well old mate, I'm off," he said. "I'll drop in from time to time and see how you're gettin' on."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'll get me old job back at the wharves. And don't try to talk me into going back to war. I've well and truly done me bit for King and country. I reckon I got a lot of catchin' up to do."

Lawson saluted the other patients and hurried out the door.

Milne remained in hospital for another month. His Gallipoli wounds healed slowly. The malaria he had contracted in New Guinea aggravated his wounds. Christmas 1915 arrived. A group of well-meaning society women visited the hospital to help 'our brave boys' celebrate Christmas. They decked a room with Christmas decorations, set up long tables with white tablecloths, and served the wounded men roast chicken and potatoes, pudding and ice cream. A rather large woman with an elaborate hat sang Christmas carols to piano accompaniment. He found it a pleasant experience.

The hospital discharged him a few weeks after Christmas. He had not fully recovered, but the hospital needed the bed for the growing army of war casualties. The army discharged him as medically unfit.

He made his way home and tried to settle back into life. Returning to his job at the bank, he tried to forget his war experiences. But he could not. Every night, his mind replayed the battles for Hill 60, and he would see shocking scenes of men torn apart by bombs and shells. To escape from these images, he took to walking the streets of Sydney late at night and into the early morning. The crowds were more subdued than at the outbreak of war. The heavy losses at Gallipoli had taken its toll on public enthusiasm for the war. The newspapers called for more sacrifices. Recruiting officers were everywhere calling on young men to 'do their bit.'

One day, he had seen a number of maimed soldiers accompanied by nurses collecting money for the Red Cross. They sat in cars driven by orderlies through the streets of Sydney. Some were missing arms and legs, and others had terrible facial injuries. He had given all the money in his pocket to the collectors. The image of the maimed soldiers played on his mind. He remembered the beach in Gallipoli crowded with hundreds of wounded lying in the open, exposed to shells and bullets.

He took to gin and whiskey to deaden the pain. One day, dropping into his favourite bar, a group of older men were talking about the war. They tried to drag him into the conversation, but he was not interested. He wanted to be alone. One persistent drunk asked him where he had served, and when he replied, "Gallipoli," he grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the group of drinkers.

"This bloke is a Gallipoli hero, come on mate, we'll buy you a drink," he shouted to his mates.

Milne reluctantly joined them. They plied him with beer. All of them had read the sanitised war stories about Gallipoli, and repeated these. When he told them what he had witnessed – whole battalions of soldiers wiped out, the despairing cries of the wounded burnt alive in the scrub, the chaotic battle scenes - they fell silent. After an embarrassing silence, he walked off to continue drinking on his own. They did not call him back.

A week after his release from hospital, he decided to visit George's parents. He had made a promise to himself that he would tell them how George died and try to give them some comfort. He dreaded the visit. He had put it off twice before he finally summoned up the courage. The walk to their house seemed to drag on as he rehearsed what he was going to say to them. _Your son died a hero...it was very quick...he didn't feel a thing..._ None of the words that came to his mind seemed to sound right. He tried new words. _He died for a noble cause..._ no... _he went to his death singing...he went down fighting..._

He stopped off at café for a cup of tea to fortify himself. The tea calmed him. He agonised over how he would describe George's death. Should he tell them he lay badly wounded in no-man's-land for days, calling for help? Should he mention that he slept in a trench less than six feet away from where George lay but could not bring him in because of snipers? If he told them this story, they might ask why he had not tried to rescue their son.

By the time he arrived at their house, he was nervous as hell. He knocked timidly, and when no one opened the door, he turned to go, relieved that he had been given a reprieve. Just as he was turning away, George's mother opened the door. She was pale and gaunt, but her face lit up in a weak smile when she saw him. She invited him in, took his arm in hers, and guided him into the lounge room.

He walked nervously into the lounge room. Mary's father was sitting in his armchair with a newspaper on his knee. He was staring into space. Only when Milne walked into his line of vision did he acknowledge him.

"Look, if this is a bad time," he said.

"No, sit down Francis," he replied in a kindly voice, motioning to the couch. "So, you came back from Gallipoli in one piece, young fellow."

He was about to reply when he thought that if he said too much about his survival, it might make matters worse. They might be sitting there thinking, _why was our boy killed while you survived? We have already lost our eldest son, now we have lost another._

"Only just, I've been in hospital for months, I saw Mary over in Egypt and on the hospital ship," he said, brightening up. "She did a wonderful job."

"Two sons lost to us, and a daughter who has come home but wants to go back again," said her father.

His stomach churned at the thought of Mary going overseas again. "I wasn't aware she was returning."

"Francis, we both think highly of you, we'd like you and Mary to marry one day," said Mrs. Batten. "Has something happened between you two? When we asked her how you were, she shrugged."

He explained that he had told Mary about George's death unaware that the authorities had not told her. "She ran out of the ward in tears and has barely spoken to me since."

"I'd like to know how George died," said Mary's father. "Please, I need to know."

"I was with George when it happened. It didn't hurt." Then he realised what a dumb thing he had said. _Of course it bloody hurt!_

"Was he in pain?" he asked.

"No, it was very quick. We were on patrol. Our battalion commander sent us into no-man's-land to take a prisoner. We grabbed one, but the enemy saw us and opened fire. An enemy patrol was on our tail, but George held them off to allow us to get back to the trench with our prisoner. He died in this act. Mr. and Mrs. Batten, your son was the bravest of the brave."

He must have hit the right note, because they both smiled and nodded.

"Did he say anything before he died?" she asked.

Milne hesitated. He could not tell her that her son had taken ages to die, and that he had called for water, for her and Mary, for a night and a day before he died in pain. He replied that it was over quickly so he didn't say anything before he went.

"That dear, dear boy," she said.

"He said he missed you both and his older brother, Harry," he added.

"That dear, dear boy," she repeated. "He did so love his brother."

"By the way," he added, "I brought this to show you." He pulled the bottle of earth from Gallipoli from his pocket. It was his most prized possession. He took it everywhere with him, a constant reminder of what he had experienced. "This comes from the ground we fought on near Hill 60."

He handed it to them and they looked with interest at it.

He noticed a large box sitting in the lounge room. She saw him looking at it and said, "The army sent us a box of his personnel belongings, but I haven't been able to bring myself to open it yet. Can you stay with us while I open it?"

"Certainly, here I'll open it for you. There's a letter here addressed to you Mr. Batten."

"Please read it to us, Francis, I'm too upset..."

He opened the letter and read aloud. "Inventory of effects of the late Private George Batten, 3 shirts, 1 tooth brush... should I go on?"

She rummaged around in the box while he read. "Yes please do, I recognise this...his favourite jacket ... I remember the patterns...that dear little chap."

"1 white vest, 2 pairs of trousers, 5 pairs of underpants, photos..."

"Where were these taken?" she asked. "This looks like it was taken at the Pyramids. Look, that's George sitting on a camel. And this photo looks like it was taken in Gallipoli."

"Yes, that's taken near where we landed."

"And look, a picture of us in a silver frame. He must have kept this picture of us near him all the time. Please continue reading the letter."

"2 handkerchiefs, 1 pair of gloves, 4 pairs of socks, 1 book of poems."

"This was his favourite book. He loved poetry, especially poems by Henry Lawson."

Mr. Batten's eyes misted up and tears rolled down his cheeks. "You'll have to excuse me." He stood up and walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Well, that's the end of the list. The last thing I wanted to tell you is that your son's final resting place is near Hill 60. He is at rest amongst many of the men from his battalion. He would have liked that."

She pulled out her handkerchief. "That dear, dear boy."

He said he had to go.

"Please, you must stay," she said. "Mary will be back from work in a few minutes. Stay with me and have some tea."

He remained sitting and heard the front door open.

"I'm home," called Mary, walking into the lounge room. "Oh Francis, I didn't expect you." She smiled and seemed pleased to see him.

"Mary, you sit down with Francis while I make some tea," she said, as she walked into the kitchen.

"How are you Francis, you look much better."

"Yes, much better, I'm back at work. Good to be home again."

Mrs. Batten returned with a tray of teacups and a pot. She poured them a cup of tea and left them alone.

There was an uncomfortable silence. "I've wanted to see you, Mary, but I wasn't sure if you wanted to see me."

"I do want to see you, but you must understand that I'll be returning to the hospital in Cairo soon. If we resume our acquaintance it must be on this understanding."

"I agree."

"And when the time comes for me to say goodbye, you must accept it."

"I'll do anything you want, just to get you back."

She smiled that beautiful little elfin smile of hers. He was full of desire for her. They chatted politely for an hour. Mary walked him to the door and they stood at the top of the steps.

"Come by the hospital tomorrow at four o'clock," she said, "we'll take it from there."

The following day, they went to their favourite café. Everything seemed to be back the way it had been before. They sat by the window talking. He was nervous because he was not sure where he stood with her. She was kind and sweet to him, and touched his hand. This put him at ease. The gloom hanging over his head slowly lifted. He started to hope again. He knew now that he loved her. If only he could think of a way to convince her to stay in Australia. He would recover from his wounds and the awful nightmares and they would marry and put the war behind them.

Although she seemed happy and content, he felt that there was something missing. He could not put his finger on it. She smiled and laughed, but he sensed sadness in her. He put this down to the death of her brothers, but he wondered if there was something more to it. He pushed this thought to the back of his mind.

Their first date went well. He walked her home and they agreed to meet the next day, a Saturday. They caught a tram to Bondi. It was a beautiful warm sunny autumn day. He wore his best suit. On the tram ride, he took her hand, and she rested her head tenderly on his shoulder.

"I like you very much," she whispered in his ear.

He smiled, but wondered if it was significant that she said she liked him, rather than loved him.

They walked along the Bondi promenade. The warm weather had encouraged thousands of Sydneysiders to take the sea air. Most of the men were in uniform, a reminder that the war was over the horizon. They walked along the rocks at the southern end of the beach, where they had fish and chips sitting on the grassy slopes looking out to sea. After lunch, they walked along the promenade, holding hands and talking. They watched bathers swimming and catching waves.

On the tram ride home, she told him her parents and younger brothers were going to visit relatives up country for a week. "The house will be empty," she said. "I'll cook us dinner."

He jumped at the opportunity. Her parents were going the following day, and she invited him to her place that night.

Her shift ended late in the afternoon. She changed out of her uniform and headed across the street to meet him. He was eagerly waiting for her. He kissed her on the cheek and they walked through the streets. It was an odd feeling walking into her empty house, usually so full of life and noise.

She walked into the kitchen and started preparing dinner. He walked up behind her and kissed the back of her neck. She turned around and kissed him. He kissed her neck, which made her laugh. He put his arms around her.

"Mary, I want you so much. I thought about you all the time in the trenches at Gallipoli. I imagined us together as we were at my place before we went overseas. We have so little time together."

"Behave yourself," she said playfully. "I have not invited you here to have your wicked way with me." She smiled when she said it, but there was a serious tone in her voice.

"But...I thought...we could spend time together," he stuttered.

"This is our time together. What happened at your place before you went to Gallipoli mustn't happen again until we are married. And that can't happen until this war is over."

Her comment surprised him. Nothing had happened at his place other than innocent kissing and a bit of fondling.

"Mary, I'll be honest with you - you have changed since you went overseas. You...I can't explain it...you seem so distant...I want you to be nice to me"

Her eyes flashed with anger. "I know what your 'nice' means. You men only want one thing! You say I'm distant. What about you? I feel like there is a third invisible person between us."

He almost choked with anger. "Mary, that's not true! There is no other woman. You are my only love."

"I'm your first love am I?"

He hesitated. He didn't want to talk about Asami. "All right, you may not be my first love, but you are here now...and she is not."

The moment he said these words he regretted them.

"What!" she screamed. "I see, so if you had a choice, you would be with this other woman. Francis, you treat me like a trollop. You are beastly."

"There is no other woman," he pleaded. "Before I met you, there was a Japanese girl in Rabaul, Asami, and I..." He realised he should not have mentioned this at all. He didn't mean to – it just slipped out. He was thinking as fast as he could.

"So, I'm your second love," she shrieked.

"No...but Asami is not in the picture...I can't have her...because..."

"Francis, you're a cad and a bounder, I don't want anything to do with you."

He dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor and gripped her arm. "Mary, please don't let us end like this. I love you. I want you." The smile had gone from his trembling lips. He had a mad look in his eyes and his face was deathly pale. "Mary, the things I've seen, Christ save me! I shouldn't have seen those things...Oh Christ, forgive me! Men torn apart by bombs, men dying alone calling for their mothers."

He burst into tears as if all the emotions he had experienced were stored up and were now overflowing in a wild waterfall.

"You mean like my brother. Dying alone calling for Mum."

He gasped and looked up into her eyes. How could she be so cruel? She seemed to think he was a cold-hearted man who cared little for others. He was stung that she seemed to be blaming him for what had happened to her brother. She did not to understand that if he had climbed out of the trench to rescue George, he would have died as well.

"And anyway," she added, "I've seen those things too, I saw things at that hospital in Cairo that a girl should not have seen, God forgive me."

He thought his head would explode with rage, horror, regret. "I killed men, some just boys, with my bare hands. I beat them to death with my rifle and I bayoneted them," he cried, gripping her arm harder. "I can hear their screams; I can hear the screams of the wounded. They are echoing in my head and won't stop. I can't sleep."

She felt sorry for him and pulled him to his feet. "Come here, I won't leave you."

His body shook with sobs. "Mary, if I lost you, I have nothing..."

She hugged him and burst into tears. "Francis, I'm sorry. I am fond of you."

They fell into each other's arms. After a few minutes, she told him he needed to rest. She took him to the lounge room and laid him on the couch. She sat by him, talking quietly, calming him down.

He slowly recovered. "You know, I played this scene over in my head again and again. But in my imagination, we settle down and get married."

She put her hand on his shoulder. "You are a hopeless romantic aren't you? As I said before, when this war is over, we will be together. But I am committed to serving overseas and I could be called up at any time."

"Mary, this war could go on for years. I heard that our soldiers are moving to France and they will soon be in action."

She shrugged. "I'll finish cooking." She returned to the kitchen while he lay on the couch.

He felt nothing had been resolved. All he had done was show his emotions and reveal how dependant he was on her. She called him to dinner. It was an uncomfortable meal. She pretended to smile and be carefree, but he sensed that she wanted him to go as soon as dinner was over.

When they finished dinner, she said she had an early shift, and he would have to go. With as little ceremony as this, he was bundled out the door and sent on his way.

Although they met a few more times, the uncomfortable silences grew longer.

Her orders arrived sooner than either of them had expected. She sent him a note that she was returning to the hospital in Cairo, and would be shipping out by the end of the week. They met a few more times, but she was preoccupied with her impending departure.

Two days later, he was standing at the wharf waving to her.

He stood for a long time alone amongst the streamers before walking the lonely streets of Sydney, his head bowed under the weight of his sorrow.

While Milne brooded over his lost love, Lawson was visiting Freda to get her ready for her escape from the internment camp. His idea was crazy, which was why he thought it was a great plan.

"I've had enough of this place," she said. "I don't care what the consequences are; I want to get out of here. I want to be free again. I know you can do it."

"Now my little darling, you don't have to worry no more – Cliff has come to your rescue. Here is what we do. I have everything ready. I have a place for us to stay. Nice cosy room in a quiet back street. I've told everyone me Swiss girlfriend from Melbourne is stayin' with me for a while. I had papers made up. Tomorrow, go to work as usual but around midday, tell your boss that you're sick as a budgie. Head back to camp early." He showed her a hand drawn map. "I'll sleep in the fields near here tonight, and I'll meet you here at this road at midday tomorrow. We'll walk to the train station. I have tickets to Sydney. I'll bring a change of clothes for youse and a wig. By the time they notice you're gone, we'll be in Sydney. We'll lay low for a bit and then we'll live it up old girl."

Next morning, Freda woke in anticipation. She could smell freedom. At the camp gate, she signed herself out and headed for work. Just before she got there, she tried to imagine she was sick. She needed to convince her employer.

Arriving at the farm, the children greeted her. "Hey mummy," said the youngest. Her heart ached for the little one.

"Good morning young man. Are you ready for school?"

"Yes mother," he replied.

Her employer asked if she was well. She said she felt sick and asked if she could return to the camp early if she still felt unwell later in the day. He agreed and went into the fields. She got the children ready for school. As she did, she wondered if she had made the right decision to escape. In the camp, she was safe and comfortable. She liked his children, and they liked her. They seemed so helpless without her. Perhaps the children sensed something was wrong because they seemed more attentive than usual. They each kissed her on the cheek as they left for school. She kissed them more tenderly than usual. She told the eldest to look after his brother and sister. Her heart was in turmoil. The family had taken her in and trusted her. Now she was betraying them. She was torn between a dull but quiet life, and the prospect of a dangerous life on the run. All morning she wrestled with her conscience. At lunchtime, her employer returned from the fields. Distracted by the amount of work that he needed to do to bring in the harvest, he did not notice that she was preoccupied. He talked about the crops, the cows, the pasture, the lack of rain and the price of wheat.

She told him she felt sick and would visit the camp doctor. He agreed and hoped she would be better tomorrow. She agonised over whether she should leave a note for the children.

Freda was in tears as she left the house for the last time. She did not look back, but walked briskly down the road. As she turned into the road where she was to meet him, she saw a policeman on patrol. She recognised him. He was a friend of her employer. She was confused – she had never seen him on patrol before.

"Ah, Mrs. Scholl, going back to camp?"

"Yes, I feel sick. I'm going to see the camp doctor."

"I see...I see... seeing the camp doctor. I'll walk with you."

"No, I'll be all right, really, I insist."

"There are a few shifty types about. Tramps, deserters, escaped prisoners." He said the last two words with great emphasis. "You haven't seen anyone like that around have you madam?"

"No, you're the only person I have seen on the road."

The constable stood for a moment longer, and looked up and down the road. Then he turned on his heel and continued his patrol.

She kept walking and did not look back. In the distance, she could see the crossroad junction where she was to meet Lawson. She was too scared to look back over her shoulder in case the constable was following her. It occurred to her that Lawson might not be there – the police might have arrested him, or he may have fallen asleep under a tree. As she hurried down the road, she saw a man in a clump of bushes waving to her. Her heart raced. She looked back over her shoulder and saw that the constable had disappeared. She walked faster.

_Please be him,_ _please be my love._

Lawson stuck his head out of the bushes and called her. She threw herself into the bushes, hugging and kissing him.

"I was so scared," she said. "I thought you had been caught. I saw a policeman up the road."

"Yeah, I saw him as well. Anyways, we have to move fast. I got a change of clothes for you."

He pulled a long black dress, a shirt, a jacket and new boots from his sack. He also whipped out an old, moth-eaten blonde wig.

She looked at the wig in surprise. "I'm a blonde and you've brought me a blonde wig as a disguise. Am I disguised as myself?"

"Yeah, I didn't think of that," he chuckled. He rummaged around in his bag, and pulled out a pair of glasses. She put them on and took them off immediately.

"I can't see with these, it's like looking through thick glass. I'll walk into things."

While she tried to make the most of the useless disguises he had brought, he got into his outfit, which consisted of a fake beard.

When they stepped out of the bushes, instead of looking unassuming, they drew attention to themselves by their eccentric dress. Her jacket was two sizes too small for her womanly figure, and the skirt was two sizes too large. She exhausted her supply of pins, to ensure it did not fall down. The wig looked like it had been in an attic for the last ten years. It had lost its shape and colour.

"No one will recognise us now," he said. "Try not to look suspicious."

She shook her head and laughed. "If this is what our life on the run is going to be like, there'll never be a dull moment with you."

They walked to the train station without further incident, and blended into the crowd. It seemed to Freda that people were staring at them. She fought off her fears and tried not to draw attention to herself. Lawson, on the other hand, behaved as if he was on a holiday. He talked loudly and excitedly about their life together.

The train journey seemed to go on forever, but at last, they arrived at Central Station. From here, they slipped through the back streets of Surrey Hills and into Woolloomooloo. They turned into a dingy street watched by drunks and prostitutes, and arrived at a dirty block of flats.

As they entered the building, the smell of cooking wafted from the many rooms they walked by on their way to the top floor. He took out his key and opened the battered door into a lightly furnished room. There was a rusty iron bed, an old dresser, a few chairs, a table and a cooker and sink.

"Welcome to your new home," he said, "it's not the Ritz but it will do for an escapee on the run."

She smiled and sat on the bed. He stood in the middle of the room admiring her. She took off the ridiculous wig, held it in her hand, laughed, and threw it in the corner of the room.

"It's good to see you at last my little darlin'," he said. "I've been waiting for this for a long time."

"Well don't just stand there, get those togs off and let's make love," she said.

He hastily removed his clothes and threw them in a pile on top of the wig. When he was naked, he walked over to the bed, kissed her and lay down. "Your turn now."

Freda stood up and turned to face him. She deliberately took her time removing her clothes. She undid each button on her blouse slowly. She took her blouse off, folded it neatly, and put it on the dresser. Underneath her blouse, she wore a petticoat. She undid the buttons on her skirt and let it fall slowly to the floor. Again, she picked it up, folded it neatly and placed it on top of her blouse. She liked the way his eyes burned with lust and desire. He studied her every movement. She lay on top of him and kissed him passionately. He rolled her underneath him and took off her petticoat. The bed squeaked and swayed as they made furious love. It had been a long time for both of them. The bed got several more workouts before they fell back exhausted and rested.

When Freda didn't return to camp that afternoon, the guards did not notice her absence at first. It wasn't unusual for her to be late. Her friends did not know what to make of it and were not sure whether to report her missing or to keep quiet.

The following day, Freda's employer arrived at the camp and said she had not turned up for work. The camp authorities had other matters to deal with and were not concerned. They certainly did not suspect she had escaped.

Her employer went to the police and reported her missing. The police agreed to investigate. They were unaware that a local constable had seen her on the day of her escape was on leave for a few days unaware of the unfolding drama. The police visited the internment camp to see if she had turned up. They interviewed her housemates who were unable to shed any light on her disappearance. The military authorities searched the camp in case she had met with foul play at the hands of other inmates.

A few days later, the constable who had seen her on the afternoon of her escape returned to duty and reported that he had seen her on the way to the camp. He thought she looked nervous. The police and the camp authorities were baffled. One line of enquiry was that someone had abducted her on her way back to camp. The police questioned her employer and for a while, he became the main suspect. But the police had no evidence against him.

One of the camp guards recalled that she had a visitor the day before she disappeared. When they checked the visitor's book, the visitor had signed in as 'Private Dick Head.'

The police circulated a description of Freda in the district. A week after she had disappeared, a train passenger called into the police station and said he saw a woman matching her description on a train to Central Station. He said he had noticed her because she was a tall good-looking woman dressed in ill-fitting clothes, wore a misshapen, dirty wig, and was having trouble seeing through her thick glasses. He added she was with a man dressed like a tramp wearing what looked like a false beard.

At last, it dawned on the police that she had escaped with the help of an accomplice. The police had little to go on. They referred the case to detectives and military authorities in Sydney. But the trail went cold at Central Station. No other passengers came forward to confirm that Freda had been on the train.

While the police and military authorities were running around in circles looking for Private Dick Head and Freda, she and Lawson remained in bed for three days making up for lost time.

A week after the great escape, Milne visited them. It was a touching reunion. Freda liked young Milne and had fond memories of his courteous behaviour in Rabaul. He in turn felt that he could confide in her. They decided to take the risk and go out for dinner to celebrate. They headed for Kings Cross, which even in 1916 had a reputation as the haunt of prostitutes, drug pedlars and criminal gangs. The backstreets were dotted with sly-grog shops and other dodgy dens of iniquity. In short, the sort of place that Lawson loved. In the gritty streets of the Cross, they were anonymous.

Lawson took them to a dingy sly-grog bar run by an old friend of his, Lillian McGrath; known to her friends as Boxer, for reasons long forgotten. She served sly-grog, diluted beer and watered-down whiskey. Upstairs she operated a brothel. At one time, she and Lawson had been lovers, but when she caught him in bed with one of her employees, their relationship came to a messy end. Lawson ended up with a black eye and bruising to parts of his body he'd rather not have bruising. Despite this, they remained friends. Boxer was what the denizens of the seedy side of the Cross called a character. The police called her a public nuisance and she had run up an impressive list of arrests for prostitution, public affray, and drunk and disorderly.

When Lawson and his friends entered, she made a great fuss of him. She had heard on the grapevine that he had settled down with a Swiss girlfriend. She wanted to meet this new girl in his life, to size her up so to speak. She eyed Freda quickly. What she saw was an attractive, formidable woman, who carried herself with confidence. She could see that she had lived an eventful life, but she looked so young in her eyes.

Freda in turn eyed Boxer, wondering if she was a rival for Lawson's affections. She concluded that Boxer was past her best, and looked like she had spent too much time in the bottle.

Boxer took them to the best table in the house, and plonked herself next to Lawson. Her club was a pokey, dark place with several small tables crammed together, and a small bar. A staircase to one side led up to the brothel. As word spread upstairs that Lawson had arrived, the girls took turns walking downstairs to look over Freda.

"So, Cliff, been a while since we saw you around here, I heard you was in Gallipoli," said Boxer, grabbing his arm. Although she looked at him, she ran her eyes over Freda.

"Too right, luv. Me and me mate, Francis here, were right in the thick of it."

She reached out a limp hand to Milne and said, "Charmed I'm sure," in her most affected English accent.

She turned her attention to Freda, "We haven't been introduced."

"Yeah, this is me Swiss girlfriend, Freda."

"Swiss, where's that then?" asked Boxer.

"Europe," answered Freda, smiling.

"Quite...quite..." replied Boxer.

The sound of yelling and swearing interrupted their polite exchange. A few seconds later, a thickset bouncer dragged a struggling man down the stairs by his ankles, followed by a distraught girl. The victim was howling and swearing. When the bouncer pulled him to the bottom of the stairs, he punched him in the mouth to shut him up. He lifted him up by the scruff of his neck, and said to Boxer, "This bloke 'ere slapped Nellie when she wouldn't do what he wanted and then wouldn't pay."

"Right," said Boxer leaping to her feet. She pulled a cosh out of her jacket pocket, and laid into him, all the time shouting, "This is a respectable establishment, we won't have none of your type here!"

She battered him unconscious, searched his pockets for money, and told her associate to throw him out.

A badly dressed waiter with a cigarette hanging from the side of his mouth, stepped over the body of the beaten man, and took their orders.

"I'll have a steak," said Lawson.

The waiter looked at his in disbelief. "We only got pies, mate."

They settled on three pies with peas.

Boxer returned to their table, lit a cigarette on the end of a long tar guard, and continued talking as if nothing had happened.

"We run a proper establishment here," she said, "why my customers are gentlemen, and my girls is all proper ladies, ain't that right Nellie."

Nellie nodded.

"You alone, young man?" she said, turning to Milne, "Nellie will keep you company."

Nellie smiled coyly.

Milne shook his head.

"Suit yerself," said Boxer.

"So Freda, where did you meet Cliff?" she asked.

Freda made up a far-fetched story that she had met him by chance when he returned from Gallipoli.

Boxer listened politely, but didn't believe a word she said. She'd been around long enough to know she was hiding something. She had a hunted look about her. "You know luv, you look like you can look after yourself, and I could use another pair of hands to run this high-class establishment. Ever worked in a bar?"

Freda confirmed she had.

"Right, that's settled; you come and work for me, no questions asked."

"I'll think about it," replied Freda.

Boxer left to tend to her other 'upmarket clientele.'

"That's a good offer from Boxer, she wouldn't ask just anyone to work for her," said Lawson.

"And what happens if the police raid this place?"

Lawson shrugged.

All the time that they had been talking, Milne had remained silent, drinking his beer and listening. All he could think about was Mary. He kept seeing her face, hearing her voice in his head, feeling her hand on his arm. Staring into space, he smiled to himself, lost in his imagination.

"Tell me about yourself, Francis," said Freda. "We have not had a chance to speak."

Lawson winked and joined a group of soldiers who had just arrived.

Milne felt comfortable with Freda. He trusted her honesty and judgement. He told her about his complex relationship with Mary. How she seemed one moment to offer him the prospect of love, only to change her mind and treat him coldly. He said he was weighed down with sorrow. All he wanted, he said, was a simple life with Mary.

Freda did her best to cheer him up. They talked about the old times back in Rabaul, and the fun times they all had at the Black Cat. When she reminded him of Asami, he smiled.

"What happened to her, did she go back to Japan?" he asked.

"When I last saw her, she was planning to go back, but I was deported a few days later so I don't know if she returned to Japan or stayed in Rabaul."

He fell silent again.

"Come on, cheer up," she said. "I predicted back then that we four would be together again in Rabaul one day."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Stranger things have happened in my life. Let's drink to the future."

They raised their glasses and after a few more drinks, they were joking and laughing.

While they were talking, the little club filled up with customers. Most had been drinking at local pubs, which closed at 6 p.m. by law. Several groups of soldiers and sailors arrived to celebrate before their departure for the war. A procession of men filed upstairs to keep Boxer's girls busy.

While the party raged into the night, a standover gang arrived to extort money from Boxer's ill-gotten gains. The gang had threatened her the week before, and she had told them if 'youse ever show your ugly mugs around here, I'll smash 'em in.' The gang returned with reinforcements armed with clubs, knives, and bricks, intent on intimidating her into paying a weekly protection fee.

The gang beat up her head bouncer, guarding the door. This was no mean feat given the size and strength of him.

Boxer walked to the front door when she heard the ruckus outside. There were several toughs standing over her bleeding bouncer. A larger group of thugs stood by the front gate, ready if called. She recognised the gang leader, a fearsome creature who struck fear into sly-groggers and pimps.

"Fuck off, youse scum, you'll get nothin' from me!" she hollered.

The gang barged through the front door, pushing her over, with the intention of smashing up her place.

Boxer let off a stream of obscenities, calling for help. When Lawson saw the gang roughing up his old friend, he called on his friends and the soldiers to defend this little oasis of pleasure as if they were defending a trench from the Turks. What followed became known locally as the Boxer war.

Lawson led his men into battle as if he was at Hill 60 again. Milne snapped out of his trance and leapt into battle. "Private Milne, to the flank, the flank," he shouted. An ugly brute armed with a club confronted him. Milne evened the odds by picking up a chair and smashing it over his head. The gang members outside dashed in to help their friends. By now, Boxer was back on her feet, whaling into the gang with her cosh. Not even a savage punch in the mouth delivered by the gang leader slowed her down. The battle was fierce, but in the end victory went to the customers who routed the gang and sent them fleeing into the night.

The victorious customers lifted Lawson, with a torn shirt and blood dripping down his chin, onto their shoulders and carried him around the bar in triumph.

His night of celebration ended when Freda reminded him that the brawl would attract the police, and if questioned, they might recognise her as an escaped prisoner.

The three friends slipped out of the club, and disappeared into the backstreets of the Cross, even as the sun was starting to rise over Sydney.

Milne walked with them to their boarding house. Lawson told him he looked out of sorts and needed to do something to fill in his time. He added that he had just the thing to keep him busy. A mate of his had asked for help, and he suggested they both help him. When Milne wanted to know who this friend was and what he wanted, Lawson was vague and kept repeating that he was a mate of his.

Milne agreed, still unsure what he was getting into. He did not know it then, but Lawson was about to lead them into the subterranean world of radical politics.

### Chapter 12

After helping Freda escape from internment camp, one might have expected Lawson to lie low and drift quietly into obscurity. But Cliff Lawson never did anything in obscurity. And he was about to get himself and Milne into a lot of trouble. This 'trouble' was to entangle them in an extraordinary web of intrigue, arson, seditious conspiracy, and forgery, culminating in a farcical attempt to firebomb New South Wales Parliament House.

Trouble was something that followed Lawson all his life. Yet he did not seek it out. He did not deliberately set out to entangle himself in a quagmire of problems. He always went into things innocently - helping a mate, doing a favour for somebody - his motives were always well intentioned.

It all started when Paddy O'Flannagan asked him to a meeting of the Wobblies. Lawson had known Paddy for years, and they had sailed on merchant ships together. Paddy got him a job on the wharves. While Lawson had reservations about him, he felt he owed him for getting him work.

Even by Lawson's standards, he was a wild and reckless man. He had flaming red hair and Ned Kelly beard, and a temper to match. When drunk, which was often, he was a danger to everyone, including himself. The police suspected he was a member of Sinn Fein. He bragged around town that he had taken part in terrorist acts against the British back in Ireland. He had a pathological hatred of the English, and he claimed he had experience in handling explosives. He cursed and ranted against the war. He hated Billy Hughes with a passion. He called him a withered old scarecrow, agent of the British, darling of the capitalist system, and a pompous, loud-mouthed, class traitor.

The Wobblies wanted to form one super union, which would negotiate with bosses from a position of power. They were fervently opposed to the war, at a time when most Australians supported the war and the British Empire. They took this opposition one-step further – they were prepared to use violence for their cause. A number of small, shadowy cells grew within this radical movement. Each cell was independent of the Wobbly leadership and each other.

Paddy O'Flannagan was the leader of one such small cell. Lawson became a member of the cell through his friendship with Paddy, although this information would have surprised him. The core membership of the cell included Freddie Boyle, a labourer who had educated himself. As a result, he had developed some far-fetched and unique views of the world. Like Paddy, he had a volcanic temper and was liable to break into a violent rage at the slightest provocation. He was a man of enormous strength and had once beaten up a bar full of tough wharfies when one of them said something he didn't like. The other member of the cell was a shifty looking character named Joe Faggin. He was nicknamed Weasel – because he looked like one. He had wheedled himself into a position of influence with O'Flannagan and was developing a harebrained plan to strike a blow for liberty – through launching a series of firebomb attacks on warehouses and shops around Sydney.

After Lawson agreed to attend the Wobbly meeting, he met up with Milne. Milne had been off work for a few days still suffering from his experiences at Gallipoli. He missed Mary dreadfully, and was at a loose end. They went to a local pub for a few drinks. Lawson convinced him that getting involved with the Wobblies might give him something to think about instead of dwelling on Mary. He told his best friend to 'pull yourself together' and stop skulking around the streets of Sydney looking sullen and moody. Milne laughed for the first time in weeks. He wanted to know more about the Wobblies, but Lawson was deliberately evasive, and said he should see for himself and come to the meeting. He asked him if getting involved with the Wobblies would get them in trouble. Lawson scoffed at the suggestion. He told him they were a great bunch of blokes.

Milne agreed, and after a few drinks, that became a few more drinks, they set out through the streets of Sydney. They arrived at the meeting hall - a cramped, dimly lit room in Sussex Street. He did not like the look of the audience. They were a scruffy looking lot. The movement was growing and attracting support from itinerant workers, the unemployed, and the disenfranchised. Cliff introduced Milne to O'Flannagan, Faggin and Freddie Boyle. Milne was polite but he sensed these men meant trouble. They sat down together at the back of the hall.

On a stage at the front of the hall, two men sat behind a table watching the audience arrive. One was a short, curly haired man in his late twenties. The other man was taking notes. Before the meeting started, there was a lively discussion as everyone tried to shout down everyone else about what they should be doing to advance the Wobblies revolutionary agenda. The young man with the curly-hair stood up and introduced himself as Tom Barker, a friend of the working class. He called for order and prepared to speak. A number of audience members called out encouragement before falling silent. There was a heightened level of excitement.

"My fellow workers," he began. "Our organisation is founded on a program of class struggle. We and only we oppose the rule of the warmongers, landowners and bosses. We see through the fraud of liberal morality, which is a cloak to hide the robbery of the workers by their masters. Only we challenge the war aims of British and Australian imperialists. The capitalist press, the church, and the politicians send our workers to war but I say, War! What for? War is hell. Send the capitalists to hell."

"Down with Billy Hughes, the warmonger!" shouted Faggin.

Tom called for silence. "It is the historical mission of the working class to do away with capitalism. The army of production must be organised, for not only the everyday struggle with capitalists, but also to carry on production when we have overthrown capitalism. By organising industrially we are forming the structure of the new society within the shell of the old."

"Down with the King and the Church!" yelled O'Flannagan.

Faggin leapt up and said he had an effective way of dealing with the bosses. He pulled a small brown bottle from his coat pocket and said it was 'fire-dope.' "Burn down the factories! Sabotage is the only way to fight the capitalist class."

Tom let them speak their minds and then appealed for calm. He held his hands up and they fell silent.

"Let those who own Australia fight for it. Put the wealthiest in the front ranks, the middle class next, and follow them with politicians, the lawyers and the parsons."

"Put the judges in the front ranks, they are the worst of the lot," shouted Freddie Boyle. "They keep putting me in prison because I like a drink or two, and beating people up."

Tom ignored the banter and pressed on. "There is no moral reason why we should not respond to attacks by the master class with whatever means we think necessary. We will bring this corrupt pro-ruling class government down. And we are not alone. There are others calling for peace. No more workers will be sent to war!"

This led to wild cheering. "Good on you Tom! Down with the war."

"The government is planning to bring in conscription. I will fight this with all my strength, all my will, all my being. Conscription is a hateful thing that denies a person the right to decide for himself. Say no to conscription my fellow workers. Don't let Hughes send another fifty thousand soldiers to war. Look at the disaster in Gallipoli. Politicians and their masters have always been generous with worker's lives."

Once more, the audience cheered wildly. Having said his bit, Tom sat in the audience and asked others to get up and speak. One speaker after another denounced the war, the bosses, and the Hughes government.

After the meeting, O'Flannagan took Lawson and Milne to one side and said, "I know I can count on you both. Soon, I'll be calling on your help."

He walked off and disappeared into the night.

Milne left the meeting unconvinced by what he had heard. As far as he was concerned, the Wobblies were trouble. He walked into the street intending to go on one of his long aimless walks. Lawson caught up with him.

"Wait up mate, so what did you think?"

"That was a load of rubbish what they said. They are all traitors. I hope the police arrest the lot."

"Steady on mate, what about freedom of speech?"

Milne stopped. "There's a war on, we should be behind our soldiers. And what about that mate of yours, Faggin, waving around a bottle of explosive stuff like a lunatic."

"He didn't mean nothing - just putting a scare up the bosses and politicians is all. And anyways, they gave me money to spend just for being a member of the group."

Lawson pulled out two five-pound notes. "See, look at that. That's how the Wobblies look after their own."

Milne asked to see one of the notes. "Are you out of your mind? They look like forgeries."

Lawson did not believe him. Milne reminded him that he worked in a bank and handled money all day. He offered to go back to Lawson's boarding house room to look at the money more thoroughly. The two friends headed there.

Freda greeted them at the door. She could see from the serious look on Milne's face that something was wrong.

"Make us some tea, Freda," said Lawson.

"What's going on?" she demanded.

"You don't need to worry about anything," he said.

"Francis, what's going on?" she repeated.

He looked uncomfortably at Lawson. "There are counterfeit notes going around and Cliff may have one."

"I knew it!" shouted Freda. "Paddy O'Flannagan gave them to you! I warned you about him. He's a dangerous man."

"Yeah, maybe Paddy didn't know they were forgeries. Anyways, Francis will take a closer look."

Under the dim light, Milne examined the notes, with Freda and Lawson peering over his shoulder. "These are good, but they are forgeries."

"No, they're not forgeries," said Lawson.

He shook his head. "These are counterfeit. Have you used any yet?"

"Yeah, a few."

"So, your mates are passing counterfeit money around. Can you see the type of people they are? You have to get rid of these notes."

Lawson promised he would. Freda snatched the notes out of his hand and tore them to sheds.

Lawson shrugged and changed the subject. He and Milne agreed to meet the following day and go for a walk to the Domain, where the government allowed public speaking.

They arrived at the Domain in the afternoon. There were several speakers standing on stepladders or boxes surrounded by hundreds of spectators. The Wobblies had a large contingent of speakers and supporters. Several supporters sold Wobbly pamphlets and their newspaper, _Direct Action_. They watched a large boisterous crowd of supporters and hecklers standing around a speaker on a stepladder.

The speaker, who introduced himself as Tom Glynn, spoke with a soft Irish accent. "There can be no peace as long as hunger and want are found among millions of working people and the few, who make up the employing class, have all the good things in life."

As soon as he started speaking, a number of ex-soldiers and soldiers on leave started hooting and calling him a traitor.

He shouted above the rising tumult, "We believe that the struggle between the employing class and the working class will continue until all the toilers come together and seize what they produce by their labour."

While he was speaking, Lawson pointed to a man in a black overcoat writing down everything the speaker said. He told Milne that the man was Detective Leary, who shadowed him and other Wobblies wherever they went. Leary stopped what he was doing and looked hard at Milne and Lawson. He shook his head as if to say, 'What are you doing listening to this treason?'

A group of determined hecklers were pushing closer to the speaker shouting and threatening to pull him off his stepladder.

Despite the hooting and catcalls, the speaker ploughed on without raising his voice.

"The conditions of the working class can only be changed when it unites under one big union – the Industrial Workers of the World. This organisation is spreading all over the world - in the USA, Canada, Australia - one big union will pack tremendous power. With this we will stop the bosses exploiting the workers and end this terrible war."

Barely had these words left his lips when the group of hecklers seized him and hurled him off the ladder. The police stood back and watched.

One of the hecklers climbed on the ladder and said all Wobblies were traitors and they should join the army and fight for Australia instead of slinking about like cowards at home. Supporters surged forward intent on restoring their speaker to his ladder. A scuffle broke out as groups of rival supporters engaged in a tug-of-war over the stepladder. Fists were thrown, and a general melee began, each group trying to seize the stepladder. The police moved in to break it up. Deciding to make a rapid exit, they managed to slip through the fighting. A flying bottle hit Lawson, and he had blood streaming down his head. As they were leaving, someone called out to him. They stopped and watched a man approach them. It was Tom Barker.

"We'd better clear off, boys," said Tom, "the police are arresting as many Wobblies as they can and if they see me they'll arrest me for sure." The three of them walked towards the city. "I'm heading for my office, why don't you boys come along. I'll make you a cup of tea and patch up those cuts."

Lawson agreed readily but Milne was reluctant. He went along more out of curiosity than interest in what the Wobblies stood for. But Lawson seemed to be in awe of Tom Barker.

"So you were in New Guinea and Gallipoli, eh," said Tom. "You know, we could use former soldiers in the Wobblies. Broaden our membership out. You realise that if you're a member, the army won't welcome your reenlistment."

"Well, I intend to reenlist as soon as I'm well enough," replied Milne brusquely.

"You look well enough to me," said Tom. "A fine strapping lad if ever I saw one. The army would take you back in a flash my lad."

Milne did not reply. He was not going to get into a debate with a rabble-rouser. Lawson said he was happy working down the wharves, and did not intend to reenlist. After a short walk through the city, they turned into a small building and walked up a flight of stairs. Tom opened the door to a tiny office.

"Come on in," he said. "This is it; this is where we edit _Direct Action_. And if the police come to arrest the editor for writing seditious articles, I tell them to arrest him." He pointed at a large block of wood wearing a top hat. Underneath was a sign that read, 'Mr. A Block, Editor.'

Tom leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and laughed.

"The police would like to shut down the paper and arrest me again," he continued. "The Hughes government hates the Wobblies. The coppers have arrested and imprisoned me several times. They'll need to do more than that to stop Tom Barker and the Wobblies." He then launched into a tirade against the capitalist system, the police, the war, religion and the British Empire. He championed the cause of Irish freedom fighters and said a reckoning with Britain was at hand. "The workers need to take direct action to bring the system down," he added.

Milne listened politely to his tirade but did not agree with anything he said. He could see that these ideas excited Lawson who was nodding and agreeing with everything Tom said.

"When the Wobblies run things, the workers will get all the wealth, you see," said Tom. "And we'll put an end to this damn war."

After Tom patched up Lawson's cuts, they left.

Milne returned to work a few days later. The weeks went by. He had not heard from Lawson for two weeks and was starting to wonder what had happened to him.

One morning, as soon as he arrived at work, his manager called him into his office. He walked in and was surprised to see Detective Leary sitting by the manager's desk. His manager muttered that the gentleman wanted to discuss a private matter with him. He left his office and closed the door, leaving Leary and Milne alone.

Leary introduced himself and opened his wallet, showing him an official badge. He shut it before Milne had time to read it. He was a short, balding man dressed in a shabby suit and large ill-fitting black overcoat.

Without saying why he wanted to talk to him, he first ascertained whether he knew Cliff Lawson. Milne confirmed that he did. He asked whether he had seen him lately. He replied that he had not seen him for a few weeks.

He did not like Detective Leary. He had an annoying habit of clicking his tongue between sentences. And he had not told him why he wanted to talk to him. He was starting to get impatient. "What is this about? Cliff hasn't done anything wrong has he? Which department of the police are you from?"

Detective Leary laughed. Then he had a serious look on his face. "I'm not that sort of police, sir. Not the criminal side of the police force, more the political side, so to speak." He looked Milne sharply in the eye. "Are you aware what a dangerous group you and your mate are getting yourselves involved with?"

Milne replied that he had been to a few of their meetings, but he doubted if they would do the things they said they would do.

"You say you haven't seen Mr. Lawson lately, when did he stop visiting you?" he asked, clicking his tongue.

"Look what is this about," he demanded. "Cliff is a war veteran. He fought for his country in New Guinea and Gallipoli. Why are you so interested in him? Is he in trouble?"

Leary wrote down everything he said. "You could say that. He's involved with a Wobbly cell run by Paddy O'Flannagan, a very, very dangerous man. He believes in using violence to bring down our society and end the war. We think Mr. Lawson is using his military experience to help him. I am anxious to speak with him. I assure you he is not under arrest."

"I don't know where he is."

"Do you know anything about the Wobblies?" he said, rummaging in his overcoat pocket. He pulled out a paper and unfolded it.

"I've already said I've been to a few of their meetings. I'm not interested in politics."

"They are a dangerous group. I'll just read some of their ideas, let me see...ah here we are, _'the working class and the ruling class have nothing in common'_ \- there's treason if ever I heard it!" He scanned the paper for a few minutes. "Now listen to this, _'between these two classes a struggle must go on until all the toilers come together and take and hold of what they produce'_ \- there's a recipe for anarchy if ever I heard one!"

Milne shrugged.

Detective Leary adopted an 'I'm an important official pose.' "I remind you that Australia is at war. This country is infested with spies, saboteurs, revolutionaries, and other undesirables. The Wobblies are a bunch of traitors, incendiaries and criminals – and I intend to root them out. Your friend is involved with a nasty group of people. If you see Lawson, you tell me. I wouldn't want to suspect that you are part of this den of vipers." He picked up his hat from the desk. "I'll be in touch." When he opened the door, Milne's manager almost fell in. He'd had his ear pressed up to the keyhole.

For the rest of the afternoon, he worked under the watchful eye of his manager. He couldn't wait for his shift to end, and the moment it did, he hurried home.

He went to bed troubled by the visit of Leary. He had finally drifted off to sleep, when he heard someone calling him. Peering into the darkness, he saw a man standing by his bedroom window with a bushy beard.

"What do you want? What are you doing in my room?"

"Don't you recognise me?" asked the stranger, lifting the fake beard off his face. It was Lawson.

"Why are you sneaking around my house in a false beard?"

"I'm travelling incognito because the police are following me."

"A detective came to see me about you. What have you gotten me into?"

"These blokes talk big about overthrowing the government but they couldn't organise a root in a brothel. If you ask me, half of 'em are police spies. Was it Detective Leary who visited you?"

"Yeah, a scruffy looking bloke."

"I started noticing several weeks ago that Leary and his men were following me. These coppers are bloody amateurs. I'd be walking along and turn around suddenly and the undercover copper following me would hide behind a newspaper, or a tree. One dived into a construction ditch when I turned around and broke his arm. So I started having fun. I've been putting on a different disguise - fake beard, dressing like a tramp - and leading them on a chase through the city."

"You're a bloody scallywag, and no mistake. Just watch out for Leary."

"Anyways old mate, I'm off, see you soon."

And with that, Lawson climbed out the window and disappeared into the night.

A few weeks after this incident, Lawson reappeared. They went for a drink after work. The pub was a Wobbly hangout - Faggin, Freddie Boyle and O'Flannagan were sitting at a long beer-stained table lined with empty glasses. O'Flannagan called them over. Milne wanted to sit somewhere else, but Lawson told him to pull himself together and have a chat with the boys.

O'Flannagan unfolded a newspaper and shook his head. "Dear oh dear, the British capitalist press is waxing lyrical over that upstart runt Billy Hughes. Soon as he was prime minister, he dashes off to dear old mother England to suck up to the upper class. The English have introduced conscription because they're running out of volunteers. We'll have conscription in no time."

"I ain't fightin' for no boss," said Freddie.

"He did in Fisher, knifed him in the back," continued O'Flannagan. "The man is power mad. He won't stop until every man what can walk and hold a gun is in the trenches. He parades around town carping about how he worked his way up from being a poor orphan immigrant. He worked his way up all right - now he wants to enslave us all. Look at these articles about his speeches in England. The English have had enough of the war, so the English governing class invited Hughes over to stir 'em up."

"I got a letter from me uncle who lives in Manchester, and 'e's had a gutful of the war," said Faggin. "They all have. Everyday the newspapers are full of lists of war dead and wounded. He reckons the streets are full of wounded soldiers."

"That's all right," said O'Flannagan sardonically, "old Billy is over there stirrin' up the Poms to fight to the bitter end. Old Billy thinks that destiny has chosen him to lead not only Australia but also the Empire. That's what he wants. He wants to be prime minister of Great Britain. Everything he's done up to this point has been but a step on the way to this. The war is going nowhere and the Poms and Frenchies don't know what to do. They've stopped the Germans marching into Paris, but neither side can advance so they're slogging it out over thousands of miles. The only thing they've succeeding in is killing tens of thousands of workers a week for no gain. So the governing class has invited old Billy over to give them his two bobs worth."

"We need to step up our campaign against the war," said Faggin, "with Hughes prancing around on the world stage, we should use this opportunity to cause anarchy. Hughes has left that incompetent windbag, George Pearce in charge. He should 'ave left his Kelpie in charge – he'd do a better job."

The others hooted and cheered.

O'Flannagan slurped his whiskey down in one gulp. "Old Billy is puffing up and down England making speeches urging the British to fight on and deal Germany a death blow. According to this newspaper he's warning of the dangers of a German victory which 'would extinguish the beacon of freedom in Europe' and lead to Germany dominating the continent and ultimately the world."

"What freedom is he talking about?" said Faggin. "Everywhere I go the bloody secret police follow me. The coppers have threatened to arrest me for being a Wobbly. Australia is a police state."

"We will rise above persecution," said O'Flannagan. "We are fighting for a noble cause and don't any of you forget it. Our cause is just. We are fighting to raise the working class up and put the greedy bosses and landlords in their place. And when we win, we'll be in charge. I'll be prime minister. Faggin, you'll be my minister for finance and printing money. Freddie will be minister for police and justice. Lawson, I'll make you minister of the army and navy."

"Look over there," said Faggin. He pointed to someone hiding behind a column pretending to have a quiet drink but taking notes. Despite the pathetic disguise, they recognised Detective Leary immediately. When he saw that they had spotted him, he moved off a little way, still within listening range.

"Keep your voices down friends," said O'Flannagan.

He lowered his voice. "Oh yes, old Billy has 'em all convinced he's the Empire's saviour. He has 'em fooled that he's a man of enormous conviction and belief. But Billy's only belief is Billy."

He held up the paper and pointed to an article. "The English papers are publishing his speeches in full, especially the ones urging a total war against Germany. Even the German newspapers have noticed his rabid speeches and have accused him of being the darling of the imperialists and jingo agitators. And the silly Australian public soak all this adoration up and think old Billy is a genius because the British report his every speech and movement. I spit on it!"

O'Flannagan spat on the newspaper. "That little runt will have us all in the trenches. To hell with the war, I say. To hell with Billy. Are you with me boys?"

His audience agreed they were with him.

"What about you young Francis?" he asked.

All eyes turned on our hero. "I reckon Billy's all right in my books. The Poms never cared much about Australian prime ministers before now - but they are listening to him because he's right. He's reminded us that we're fighting to stop the Germans taking over the world."

The others fell silent and turned to O'Flannagan.

"What do I have to do to convince you that Billy is the worst warmonger of all time?" he asked.

"When you tell me what the alternative is. I don't want Germany to win this war. For if it does it will be bad for Australia. I didn't go to war to defend the bosses, I went to war to fight for what is right. And the Poms are right. They are standing up to the Kaiser who would enslave us all if he had the chance."

"I don't see you rushing to join up," said O'Flannagan.

This was a low blow and Milne felt it. Here he was standing up for his beliefs, but doing nothing to put them into action. He felt like a hypocrite. They were all looking at him.

"You're entitled to your views, lad," he said, in a surprisingly gentle tone. "I can see we'll have to work on you a bit more. Now to business my lads - the coppers have arrested Tom Barker on a trumped-up charge. There are public meetings planned to support a campaign to free him. We'll strike fear into 'em. Get your mates together. Raise hell. Demonstrate in the street. Now get out there!"

Over the next month, a series of public meetings and demonstrations took place across Sydney. The imprisonment of Tom Barker had stirred up public interest in his plight. Speaker after speaker denounced the threat to freedom and civil liberties. Some radicals advocated violence to free Tom. Others talked about storming the prison and releasing him. The campaign succeeded – the police released him. This emboldened the Wobblies. The various cells, acting independently of the leadership, started a far more deadly campaign.

While these dramatic events were playing out, Lawson and Milne met for a drink in the city. After the drink, Milne returned to work. Lawson walked with him. They were just turning into George Street, when they recognised Detective Leary leaning against a lamppost. He watched them approach and indicated that he wanted to speak to them.

"Lawson, I've been looking for you," he said. "You've been conspiring with traitors to overthrow the government."

"I haven't been looking for you. I'm not breaking any laws am I, Mr. Leary?"

"You could say I'm on a mercy mission to save you from yourselves. I'd listen to what I have to say before you go any further."

"All right, we're listening," said Milne.

"Not in the street," he said, indicating that they follow him to the police station for a chat.

When they arrived at the station, he ushered them into an interview room. "This is an unofficial meeting. I'm going to give you a chance to get yourselves out of trouble. You're mixing with some dangerous people. I'm going to get them one way or another."

Lawson stood up. "If I'm not under arrest, I don't have to listen to this. Come on Francis, let's go."

Milne replied that he would like to hear what Mr. Leary had to say first.

"Sensible lad," said Leary, sarcastically. "Sit down Mr. Lawson. The people you're mixing with are all heading for a prison cell. If you want to go to prison with them, all you have to do is ignore my advice."

Lawson shook his head. "How do you know they're going to prison, don't they need a fair trial first?"

"I'd rather not arrest you two for treason, it doesn't look good. I do not care about the others. No one will care when we put 'em away. Traitorous rats, vermin, rabid scum disrespecting the King and the Empire!" His voice rose as he described them. He banged his fist on the table and went red. Milne and Lawson involuntarily leaned back on their chairs. Leary mopped his brow and took a moment to compose himself.

He spoke more softly. "The deal is you two reenlist in the army. We'll say no more about the other matters."

"This is bloody ridiculous!" shouted Lawson. "What other matter? All we did was go to a few meetings. You got nothing on us. You're using threats to get us to reenlist."

Leary leaned back and smiled, shaking his head. He pulled a note pad from his pocket and started flipping through the pages. "Let's see here. Ah yes, this is it. At a meeting of the Wobblies, I observed Mr. Lawson and Mr. Milne attending. At this meeting, Tom Barker, a known revolutionary, made an inflammatory speech urging members to use violence to bring down the government. One man, who I identified as Joe Faggin, pulled a bottle from under his coat and told the audience that it was 'fire-dope' and he added that, ' _this will shake up the bosses; we'll burn a few buildings down'_."

"Those weren't his exact words, you're twisting around what he said," said Lawson. Then he realised he had said too much.

"Ah, I see, so you admit being at this meeting where a campaign of arson was being planned. I'll just make a note of that." He turned over a few pages and wrote it down. "Now let's see what else do we have here?" He annoyingly clicked his tongue as he flipped the pages. "That was an interesting meeting you attended the other day in honour of that traitor Tom Barker. One of your colleagues said he didn't recognise the King or the Empire. Then he talked about a group of them storming the prison and freeing Barker. That's treason pure and simple."

He leaned back on his chair, clicking his tongue. His eyes moved from Lawson to Milne and back again.

"You've made your point," said Milne. "Can we go now?"

"Certainly, as I said you're not under arrest - yet."

All three stood up. Leary slapped his head in a comical way. "I almost forgot...there is another matter I wanted to speak to you about. Do you know a German woman called Freda Scholl?"

He carefully watched their reactions. His eyes moved suspiciously from one to the other.

Lawson kept a straight face and said he did not know her.

"She escaped from internment camp. We believe she had outside help. Let me see." He opened a folder filled with papers and sat down again. "Sit down."

They sat down reluctantly.

He deliberately searched through his papers slowly, muttering to himself. "Ah, here we are...a guard at the internment camp said a man visited her, using a fake name. He described him as a 'tall, blonde-haired man, an ugly brute who walked with a swagger'."

"Well, there you go, that can't be me," replied Lawson.

"Ah now, I wasn't suggesting this description matched you. But now you draw my attention to it, there are similarities. As you both know, aiding an enemy alien to escape is tantamount to treason."

Lawson remained silent.

"But as you say, you don't know Freda Scholl. Anyway, I've asked the army to send me information on why the authorities deported her from Rabaul. That should clear the matter up."

"All right," said Lawson. "I did visit Freda in internment camp. She was a friend of mine in Rabaul. But I didn't have anything to do with 'er escaping."

"If you're innocent, why did you tell me you didn't know her?" demanded Leary.

"I heard she'd escaped, and thought I might get blamed."

Leary nodded. "Fair enough. Well, you two can go now. Remember what I said."

They stood, preparing to go.

"Oh, one more thing, Mr. Milne. You work in a bank, do me a favour and keep an eye out for counterfeit five pound notes. Bad notes have been turning up around town. We're warning shopkeepers and bank employees. That's it, you can go."

Milne was relieved to get out of the police station. At one point, he was convinced Leary was about to arrest them. He walked away from the police station as fast as he could.

"Well, I'm finished with the Wobblies," he said. "They're nothing but trouble. What about you?"

"Paddy wants my help for something," replied Lawson. "I can't let a mate down."

### Chapter 13

Fired up after his triumphant visit to Great Britain, Prime Minister Billy Hughes was determined to introduce conscription for overseas service. He was convinced conscription was the only way Australia could make its full commitment to the allied cause. He planned to address Parliament the following day to announce his decision to call a conscription referendum. In the lead up to the speech, he met Senator George Pearce, a strong supporter of conscription, and Frank Tudor, Minister for Trade and Customs, who strongly opposed conscription. They met in the Parliamentary offices in Melbourne to discuss the war effort.

"Gentlemen, Australia faces the gravest crises in our history," Hughes began. "Britain has asked its dominions for more troops. Our young Federation is facing its greatest test. We are engaged in a struggle for our very existence. If the British fail in this fight, the enemy will cut Australia off from the Empire. The voluntary system is not delivering enough soldiers to meet Australia's military commitments. This system cannot make up our losses on the Western Front. Senator, what are the numbers of troops needed to maintain our divisions in France?"

Pearce went through his papers. "We need thirty-two thousand recruits for the month of September and then we need a further sixteen thousand recruits each month."

"How many volunteers a month are we getting?" asked Hughes, already knowing the answer.

"Around six thousand a month."

Hughes leant back in his seat and furrowed his brow.

"Conscription is not Labour Party policy, and you risk splitting the party if you force the issue," warned Tudor.

"The party will have to take me as I am," shouted Hughes. "My views on conscription are well known. The Labour Party elected me to lead the country in this difficult time. I expect my ministers and backbenchers to fall in behind me."

"There is another way," replied Tudor. "We could cut back on our troop commitments to the Empire. Australia has done more than its fair share in this war against Germany and Turkey. We could reduce the number of divisions in the field in France, that way we can keep a reduced number of divisions up to full strength."

Hughes shook his head. "We can't let the Empire down at this desperate time. I fear that the enemy will recover from the defeats we have inflicted on him. I have seen the battlefields myself. Germany has a strong army - despite these defeats. We must continue to press Germany otherwise the war will drag on indefinitely and rob the world of a lasting peace. We must bring on the final battle now."

"You will not have my support," said Tudor. "Nor will you have the support of many Labour members. Conscription is a European evil. Many of us fled Europe to get away from governments that forcibly recruit free citizens to fight wars. Conscription is against the Australian way of life. The decision to fight or not should be up to each individual, not government. To force men to fight is against the principles of freedom."

"There will be no freedom if the Germans win this fight," replied Hughes. He turned to Senator Pearce. "What is your view, Senator?"

"I concede that conscription is an evil - but it is a necessary evil demanded by national survival. And it is consistent with democratic principles. We have compulsory education and compulsory arbitration. Compulsory military service is essential to democracy when it is under threat. Our democracy faces extinction if we lose this fight. Compulsory overseas service implies equality of sacrifice."

"We can't lose heart now, defeat will sound the death knell of our aspirations and rob us of our privileges," said Hughes, who was practising his speech to Parliament. "If we lose, Germany will get back New Guinea. A hostile Germany will be on our doorstep blocking our trade routes and using Rabaul as a base to attack Australia."

Frank Tudor was not convinced. "Conscription is against the civil rights and religious liberties we have won in this country. We have created this new country based on freedom of thought and action. To take this freedom away is wrong."

"My mind is made up. As prime minister, I must take the issue of conscription to the people. We shall let them decide."

"I warn you not to go down this path," said Tudor. "You will split the Labour Party and the nation at a time when we need to be unified. If you put this to a referendum, I tell you, I will campaign against it as will many of our members."

"We must not leave our soldiers in the lurch," said Pearce.

"Returned soldiers I have talked to have told me they do not want soldiers who don't want to fight," shot back Tudor. "They will be useless in battle."

Hughes shook his head. "Our national existence is at stake. We must have equality of sacrifice. Conscription will ensure that the wealthy as well as the poor make the ultimate sacrifice."

"This is bad policy Billy, and you know it," said Tudor.

"I propose to take a referendum to the people seeking to make it compulsory to send conscripts overseas."

Tudor stood up. "I have warned you about this. You will cause turmoil and bring out the worst elements in our society." He stormed out of the meeting.

Hughes was silent for a few moments. "I fear we may lose this war. Germany is proving an implacable enemy. It can absorb enormous losses. We must not falter now."

Senator Pearce fell silent as the enormity of what they were about to do weighed on him.

"What are our chances of winning the referendum, George? I know the electorate is behind me. My visit to Britain has generated considerable public support. Who are our opponents?"

"The main opposition will come from the left of our own party. The trade unions, the Wobblies, the Catholic Church led by Cardinal Mannix, Vida Goldstein, leader of the Women's Peace Army, and Adela Pankhurst. Together they are a formidable group. But there is no unity between them."

Hughes crossed his arms. "I fear the Wobblies most of all. They are dangerous, and might win over the radical elements of the working class. I will deal with them when the time is right."

"You realise what this may mean for us - we risk expulsion from the party both of us have dedicated our political lives to. The thought of expulsion from my beloved Labour Party causes me grief. My heart is heavy."

"We must be clear going into this," said Hughes. "We also risk losing power. My political life could end if I call the referendum and lose it."

"Britain, Canada and New Zealand have all introduced conscription without a referendum," said Pearce. "You could introduce conscription through the _War Precautions Act_."

"No, I would not do that to the Australian people. I want them to decide."

"The forces lined against us are significant," said Pearce. "We can't ignore them. We have a large population of Irish descent and the British suppression of the Irish Easter rebellion has polarised a strong anti-British feeling."

"By this act, we will show Britain that we are doing everything we can to support it in its fight with the Germans. George, there is something else. Something happened while I was visiting the troops in France."

Pearce looked into his face and could see he was upset. Tears welled in his eyes. "What is it?"

"I looked into their eyes, the eyes of the men, well boys most of them. They came in from the trenches, the mud still clinging to their boots. I walked amongst them and sat with them. I looked into their eyes. I think I saw what they had seen. Oh, it was horrible! horrible! And I knew that after I left many of them would be going into battle. And they did - many of those soldiers I talked to were killed at Fromelles. Christ George, how many more Australians must die in this bloodletting?"

Pearce folded his arms and looked at the floor. "When Germany is laying on the ground pleading for mercy."

The following day, Hughes addressed Parliament. He announced that he would call a referendum on conscription. He outlined his reasons and left.

The Labour Party split down the middle between the left, which opposed conscription, and Hughes's supporters. At an emergency meeting, the party passed a motion of no confidence in him. He walked out of the meeting calling on those who supported him to follow him. As he and Pearce walked out, he muttered that despite this turn of events, the fight for the referendum must go on.

The Labour Party expelled Hughes and Pearce, and instructed its members to work against the referendum.

When he and his supporters met to discuss what they would do now, he was in a fury. He thumped his chest and ranted against his enemies. "What do these honourable members think we are facing? I think we need to send then to the Western Front - let them see what we are fighting for. If Germany wins, we face an uncertain future. We fight or we die. That's how simple the choice is."

"This is a very bad outcome," said Pearce. "We are asking the Australian people to make sacrifices, but we have a party that is causing chaos for our war effort."

Hughes crashed his fist on the table and roared, "It matters little what the party says; the referendum will go ahead. And if we win, as I expect we will, we'll form a coalition with the Opposition who support our policy on conscription."

Some of his supporters bowed their heads at the prospect of forming government with their political enemies. But they had made their decision and there was no turning back.

Both sides rushed to the hustings to push their causes. Rival groups organised a series of mass meetings all over Australia in the run-up to the vote.

"The conscription referendum seems to have got a lot of people excited," said Milne to Lawson.

He was leaning against a lamppost watching a group of demonstrators opposing conscription. They joined the crowd as it marched to Town Hall. When they arrived, the meeting hall was packed. The Wobblies were there in numbers.

"I think we're about to see the Wobblies in action," said Lawson. He pointed to a group of Wobbly members clustered around O'Flannagan. The group dispersed through the hall, some moving to the front, others forming up on either side.

At the front of the hall, three speakers sitting at a table on the stage were preparing to address the crowd: a dapper MP, a grey-haired army officer and a well-dressed woman. The MP rose from the table and cleared his throat. Behind him was a banner supporting conscription. He held up his hands and asked for silence. The crowd gradually fell silent.

"Australia needs to do everything it can to help Great Britain defeat Germany," he shouted. "It is the duty of every citizen to defend his country."

"This is Britain's war not ours," yelled O'Flannagan. "Germany isn't a threat to Australia. Why should we force workers to fight for Britain? If you love Britain so much you should go live there."

A group of Wobbly supporters took up the chant: "Say no to conscription! No government has the right to compel someone to kill!"

O'Flannagan yelled, "Is a man free when his life can be given away by another as though it were a cheap commodity of some kind? If conscription is forced on us, we'll have no more freedom than the cattle in the saleyards, waiting to be handed over to the butcher!"

A large group of anti-conscription supporters started booing, hissing, and cock crowing.

"We owe a debt to Britain for shielding Australia from the rampaging Germans," continued the speaker. "If Britain loses the war, we will be at their mercy. Anyone who thinks Germany is not a threat to Australia is deluding himself."

"De...whating himself?" shouted Freddie Boyle.

A large part of the crowd started booing the speaker, but they quietened down when the police rushed on stage and threatened to arrest any troublemakers.

"Support our soldiers at the front - why should they carry the burden of the war while others skulk at home? Why should they risk their lives for their country while others lay about?"

"I don't see you volunteering," shouted Faggin.

A woman stood up in the front row. The speaker stopped in mid-speech. "My son died for his country, but he went because he wanted to. We should not force men to fight if they don't want to." When she had said her bit, she sat down.

"Your country needs you," resumed the red-faced speaker, "and now is the time to show loyalty to King and Empire."

"Your mothers, wives and sisters need you at home," yelled O'Flannagan. "Australia's done its bit - capturing German New Guinea and the Gallipoli campaign. Women don't send your sons, brothers and husbands to war! Send the politicians instead!"

The speaker pressed on amid a cacophony of screams, whistles and singing.

The army officer rushed to the front of the stage and appealed for a fair go for the speaker.

A group of Wobbly supporters pushed forward, jeering, cock crowing, chanting and booing. They burst into song,

" _When the Union's inspiration through the workers' blood shall run,_

There can be no power greater anywhere beneath the sun.

Yet what force on earth is weaker than the feeble strength of one?

But the Union makes us strong.

Is there aught we hold in common with the greedy parasite?

Who would lash us into serfdom and would crush us with his might?

Is there anything left for us but to organise and fight?

For the Union makes us strong.

They have taken untold millions that have never toiled to earn

But without our brain and muscle not a single wheel can turn,

We can break their haughty power, gain our freedom when we learn

That the Union makes us strong.

In our hands is placed a power greater than their hoarded gold,

Greater than the might of armies magnified a thousand fold,

We can bring to birth the new world from the ashes of the old,

For the Union makes us strong."

A group of Wobblies tried to storm the stage and drag the speakers off. Several returned soldiers leapt in to defend them and a brawl erupted. The police waded in and arrested several rioters.

"Come on Cliff, let's get out of here," said Milne.

A few days after the meeting, O'Flannagan took Lawson aside at work and said, "The time has come to strike a blow for freedom. The cell is ready to do its bit for the cause." He looked furtively about and passed him a note with an address and time scrawled on it. He told him to memorise the address and then destroy the note. "Tonight," he whispered.

Lawson nodded and got back to work.

After work, he went home to his modest boarding house room. Freda was waiting for him.

"So my hero is home," she said.

He gave her a big, noisy kiss and said he loved her 'something awful.'

"We will be man and wife soon, yes? You did promise me."

"All in good time my sweet," he said. "Now, run along and get tea ready, I have to go out."

"Go out? Where are you going?"

He told her about his important meeting with O'Flannagan.

"I don't trust that man. He is a dangerous man. He has a mad look in his eye."

"You only met him once. He's a mate and I owe him. He got me a job."

"Please my darling, don't meet with him - say you are sick and can't come. I have a premonition that this will end badly. Stay here with me. After dinner, we can go to bed. I'll make it worth your while." Freda pouted and ran her hands over her hips and thighs. "I get lonely when you're not here. I have no friends or relatives. I need my man to comfort me."

"Bloody hell woman, don't go on. I know what I'm doing. Anyways, I'm a free man what can come and go as I please. So don't tell me what I can and can't do. You remember I'm the boss in this house...room...so you get along and get tea ready. Your man is hungry."

Freda lowered her head. A tear formed in her eye and she pulled out a hanky and blew her nose.

"Now old girl, don't go on. Everything will be all right."

He took her in his arms. She buried her head in his chest. Then she pulled away.

"How can you say everything will be all right? I've been stuck in this room for months now. I can't go anywhere for fear of arrest. There are police everywhere looking for me. If the police catch me, they'll throw me in prison. This is your fault. I should have stayed in that internment camp."

"Now there, calm down. I'll help Paddy and then we'll head for Melbourne. The coppers won't be looking for you there. And that bloody Detective Leary might leave me alone."

"Will we be married when we get to Melbourne?"

"Yeah, that was my surprise. When we get to Melbourne, we'll be married."

She covered him with kisses. "Oh Cliff, let's eat later."

How could he deny her this request? Like a good husband, he lifted her up, thought better of it, and asked her to walk to the bed. He threw her on the bed and expertly stripped her naked and pounced on her. The old bed shook and threatened to give way under the vigorous activity.

When they were finished, he lit a cigarette and lay on the bed while she dressed and made dinner.

After dinner, he said he had to get going but promised her all would be well. As he left her standing at the door, he could not know that he was about to set off a chain of events that night which were to lead to her arrest.

At the appointed hour, he arrived in front of a squat house in a dingy street. The house was in darkness and appeared to be deserted. He felt a bit foolish and wondered if he should knock. He pressed his ear to the door. He could hear heavy breathing.

"What the..." he gasped, leaning back from the door.

He pressed his ear to the door and heard the breathing again. He knocked loudly. There was the sound of a muffled conversation. He stood back wondering what would happen next.

The door opened a crack. "Who is it?" asked a harsh voice.

"It's Cliff Lawson, open the door for God's sake; I'm freezing my arse off out here."

The door closed and he heard more talking behind the firmly locked door. At last, the door opened.

Mrs. O'Flannagan, a rather dour, severe woman, poked her head out the door and looked at him sharply. She grunted a welcome and told him to follow her. He stepped into the house, straining his eyes in the semi-dark. He followed her into a dimly lit room.

A long table took up most of the small room. An old piano stood against one wall. O'Flannagan sat at the head of the table stroking his beard. He acknowledged Lawson. Next to him sat Freddie Boyle with a vacant look. Joe Faggin was sitting at the other end of the table smoking a foul cigar, which smelled of burning rubber. Lawson sat down between O'Flannagan and Faggin. Mrs. O'Flannagan sat opposite him and eyed him suspiciously.

"Greetings fellow worker," said O'Flannagan solemnly, when Lawson was seated.

"Gidday mate, what gives?" he said with a grin.

O'Flannagan looked very serious. Faggin darted his sly, little eyes around the room. Freddie looked as serious as he could for someone with a permanent grin on his face. Mrs. O'Flannagan's face took on a greenish glow in the dim light.

"Our great movement," O'Flannagan began, "expects every cell to do what it can to fight the enemy. I have a plan to strike a mortal blow and bring down this corrupt system. And we are going to carry it out tonight so police spies don't find out what we are up to."

Lawson leaned forward expectantly.

"There are spies everywhere," he said, getting up and walking to the window. Peering through the curtains, he told his wife and Faggin to check that no one was outside listening.

"Look, what is..." began Lawson.

O'Flannagan put his finger to his lips. He forbade anyone to talk until his wife and Faggin had returned and given the all clear. Ten minutes later, they returned and reported that they found no police spies lurking in the bushes. He told his wife to make a pot of tea. He pulled out a deck of cards and dealt each of them a hand.

"Ah good, what will we play?" asked Lawson.

"We're not playing cards," he said, with a note of irritation in his voice. "The cards are a cover in case we are raided."

Lawson fell silent, and started to feel uncomfortable.

Mrs. O'Flannagan returned with a pot of tea and poured everyone a cup.

Lawson reached his hand out to drink his tea but stopped. "Can I drink this or is this a cover as well?"

O'Flannagan gave him a filthy look and leaned forward.

"The walls have ears. Detective Leary is always snooping about. We must be careful."

"I know, I'll play the piano," volunteered Freddie. "Spies won't be able to hear us then." He got up and sat at the piano. After cracking his knuckles, he started banging away on the keys.

"This is my plan," said O'Flannagan, "we are going..."

They could not hear what he was saying over the racket Freddie was making. Not only was he enthusiastically thumping the keys, he was singing out of tune.

"Freddie, keep it down, there's a good bloke."

Freddie was disappointed that they did not appreciate his musical abilities. He rejoined them with a grumpy look on his face.

"As I was saying," continued O'Flannagan, "we are going to bring down this corrupt government. We are going to firebomb the State Parliament building."

"Is this some sort of joke," said Lawson.

O'Flannagan looked at him angrily. "No, this is deadly serious."

"But won't there be a lot of police guarding Parliament House?"

"No, not early in the morning. All we have to do is get close enough to a window. We smash it and then use this."

He pulled a small bottle out of his coat pocket. "Fire–dope," he said, holding the bottle in his hand and peering into it. "All you and Joe have to do is stand guard at either end of the street. Freddie will smash a window, I'll soak a few rags with this stuff, toss it in, and ten minutes later Parliament House will go up in flames and burn down. In Ireland we called it 'Fenian Fire,' a mixture of phosphorus and carbon bi-sulphide. You've heard of all those fires around Sydney. Some of 'em was us, some was other cells. We did the Mark Foy's store, and Simpson's store in Pyrmont."

Lawson found himself in a difficult position. Now that he knew the plan, there was no way he could get out of it. He had no choice but to pretend to go along with the mad plan. He decided that at the first opportunity, he would slip away.

"Not all of 'em worked," said Faggin. "But we're putting the fear of God into the coppers and government. You're not scared are you, Cliff? We picked you to be in our cell because we thought you were the right bloke. You're not backing out are you?"

As he said this, he reached into his coat pocket.

"All right, if we're going to do this, let's go," said Lawson, resolutely.

"I knew I could count on you," said O'Flannagan. "Let's move out."

He had a hushed conversation with his wife before they set out across the city. The streets were dark and empty. Lawson looked around at the others, hoping that they wouldn't notice if he slipped away. But Faggin walked behind him, watching his every move. They arrived at their target, and while he and Faggin lurked in the shadows nearby keeping watch, O'Flannagan and Freddie walked cautiously towards Parliament House. He watched as O'Flannagan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the bottle. He soaked a rag in the incendiary fluid. Freddie pulled a half-brick out of the sack over his shoulder. They walked to the side of Parliament House, and Freddie prepared to smash the window so O'Flannagan could throw the incendiary material inside.

Freddie took aim at the window. He threw the brick - but the unexpected happened. The brick bounced off the window and in a comical moment, returned like a boomerang and struck him on the head. He staggered back clutching his head, and stumbled into O'Flannagan. They fell on the ground in a tangled heap. Lawson turned, preparing to run for it.

They were not the only people lurking about that night. Detective Leary stepped out of a dark street opposite Parliament House at the precise moment the gang arrived. For almost a year, he had been investigating the activities of the Wobblies. He was the sort of investigator perfectly suited to tracking down saboteurs. He was suspicious of everyone and everything. For months, he had been investigating a string of suspicious fires around Sydney. There were reports of warehouses, shops and other buildings being deliberately torched. He knew of at least twelve cases of suspected arson in the last six months. Then there was the case of forged five pound notes turning up around the city. Then there was the Wobbly campaign against conscription. He had been to all the meetings and taken notes. He had heard with his own ears the treasonous comments of the Wobbly leaders. Then there was the case of the escape of one Freda Scholl, an enemy alien, spotted by one of his informers in the company of Cliff Lawson, a known associate of Paddy O'Flannagan, the leader of one of the cells. In his mind, it was all coming together. It was a conspiracy on a monumental scale.

He had told his superiors about his suspicions that the Wobblies were behind the fires and the counterfeit money. They had rolled their eyes in disbelief. He was so convinced of their guilt, that he continued the investigation in his own time. He wandered the streets of Sydney in the hope of catching the Wobblies in the act of setting fire to a building. He dreamed of that moment; creeping up behind a desperate band of saboteurs about to set a fire.

That very morning, he had heard a rumour that a radical Wobbly cell was planning to do something big to bring attention to their cause. He had gone straight to his police spies and asked them to find out what they could. Later in the afternoon, he received confirmation - the cell led by O'Flannagan was planning to firebomb Parliament House. He had wandered around Parliament House all night hoping to catch them in the act.

One can imagine Detective Leary's joy at discovering four suspicious characters lurking about Parliament House in the dead of early morning. He slunk back into the shadows and watched as O'Flannagan and Freddie walked towards Parliament House.

"Well, well what do we have here," he said rubbing his hands together. He peered hard into the gloom trying to recognise the men. Then he said triumphantly, "Oh, at last I have him! Look who it is - Paddy bloody O'Flannagan, and he's up to no good - why else would he be creeping about Parliament House at this time of the morning? He's as good as dead...wait, I don't believe it, Joe Faggin, and that looks like Cliff Lawson...oh, I have him...he's mine."

While he was rhapsodising on what he was going to do to them all, two police officers emerged from another street. They saw the gang, and blew their whistles. Lawson took off around the corner and sprinted onto an open space. Not far behind him, he heard Freddie shouting to wait for him. He stopped and looked back. The two policemen were chasing Freddie.

The months of marching around New Guinea and Gallipoli came in useful. Lawson was fit and took off at top speed into the darkness. When he thought he was far enough away, he looked back. In the early morning gloom, he could see that the police were fighting with Freddie who was shouting and calling for help and swinging his fists in every direction. He was roaring like a lion. Detective Leary ran up and felled him with a massive baton blow. He pointed to Lawson in the distance and shouted for the police to catch him.

Lawson saw another policeman running from the back of St Mary's Cathedral, blowing his whistle. He turned and ran as fast as he could, making for the laneways of Woolloomooloo. As he picked up speed, he looked across to his left and saw another running figure trying to head him off. Spurred on by the fear of capture, he ran as fast as his body could take it. He thought his heart would explode, but he was not stopping for anyone. He hurtled down the hill and disappeared into the back streets. He knew these little laneways like the back of his hand. He slipped over a fence and hid in the backyard of a house. He heard the police running up and down the laneway. He kept his cool and waited until morning. Then he joined the morning workers on their way to work.

He knew that the police would be looking for him so he decided it was time to leave town. He hurried through the backstreets; stopping every now and then to see if he was being followed. When he came to his home street, he stopped and scanned it for police. He went into the boarding house and raced to his room. He called out to Freda to let him in.

"Where have you been?" she demanded tearfully, opening the door. "I have been waiting for you to come home all night."

She could see that he was exhausted and fearful.

"We need to leave for Melbourne straight away," he said. "Things went bad this morning, and I was nearly arrested. Detective Leary will be here to arrest me, I'm sure of it."

"I warned you about O'Flannagan!" she said.

"This isn't the time to have an argument," he replied. "We 'ave to travel light. And wear a disguise. The police will be watching the train stations."

Freda frantically packed while he stood by the window looking out. He went to the wardrobe and got out a neat suit 'that had fallen off the back of a wagon' and returned to the window to dress.

Freda put on a dress she had made herself. By the time they were dressed, they scrubbed up well.

"Well, Mr. Lawson, we do look the part, don't we?"

When all was ready, they hurried down the stairs to catch a tram to Central Station where they were going to catch the train to Melbourne.

"Going somewhere?" asked a voice as they entered the foyer.

They spun around. O'Flannagan stepped out of the shadows.

"Bloody hell! I thought you was the coppers. We're heading for Melbourne."

"We have more work to do," he said, walking towards them. "Someone tipped off the police last night. There is a traitor among us. Freddie and Joe have been members of the Wobblies for years so it wasn't them."

"I've done my bit and nearly got arrested for my trouble. You don't need my help. I'm done with the Wobblies. And I'm no dobber; I don't like what you're suggesting."

O'Flannagan stood astride the entrance with his arms folded. "Unpack your suitcases. No one leaves the cell until I say they can leave."

Freda stepped forward. "Stand aside."

His eyes widened in surprise. Freda was pointing a small revolver at him with a look of grim determination on her face. He stepped to one side.

"Put the gun away," said Lawson.

She tucked the gun into her bag. As soon as she did, O'Flannagan lunged forward and slapped her across the face. "You filthy German bitch," he screamed. He was about to slap her again when he was felled by a right hook from Lawson. He hit the ground unconscious.

Lawson looked at his fist as if it was a lethal weapon. "No one calls my woman a bitch. We'd better get a move on. We've attracted a crowd."

A crowd had gathered in front of the boarding house. Anti-German feeling was running high in the city and some of the crowd had heard O'Flannagan's remark about Freda being German. As they stepped into the street, the crowd blocked their path. "That bloke in there tried to grab me Swiss wife. She's Swiss-French. Long live France!"

The crowd responded with three cheers for France and let them through.

He and Freda hurried through the streets and were relieved when a tram came along seconds after they got to the tram stop. They jumped aboard and headed for Central Station.

The station was crawling with police. Lawson straightened up and assumed the air of an officer. He spoke in a loud put-on English accent. He hired a porter to carry their luggage and booked first class tickets. They sat in the first class waiting room.

"You sit 'ere, Freda, I'll just get a pack of fags. Don't talk to no one."

He walked casually to a kiosk, and struck up a conversation with the owner. "Seems to be a lot of police around the station today," he said.

"Yeah, I was talking to a detective this morning," said the owner, "and he said he was on the look out for a couple of German spies. A man and a woman as it happens."

The owner stopped talking, his attention attracted by a commotion.

Lawson looked around and his heart sank. Two police officers were dragging Freda along behind them. She was shouting in a mix of bad English and German.

A crowd gathered. "A bloody German spy," shouted a man in the crowd. "Come on let's string her up." The police bundled her into a waiting police van.

It all happened so quickly that he could do nothing. He decided to make himself scarce. As he turned to make good his escape, he nearly knocked over Detective Leary, who was standing behind him with a burly constable.

He knew the gig was up, and rolled his eyes.

"So Mr. Lawson, it has come to this," he said sardonically. "You've been having a time of it haven't you. I think you'd better come with me. I know you don't want a fuss."

He nodded and walked beside him to the police station. Leary showed him into an interview room. He had a triumphant look on his face as if to say 'I told you I'd win in the end.' A young police officer bustled in carrying bundles of papers, which he put in front of Leary. He turned the pages slowly clicking his tongue between his teeth. "Dear, oh dear," he said, every few minutes. He finally closed the file and moved it to one side.

His assistant took out his pad and pen and prepared to make notes. Leary put up his hand. "That won't be necessary for the moment. Leave us now, and I'll call you in later."

His assistant shuffled out the door.

"You have been leading a charmed life haven't you, Lawson. I don't know how you have managed to fit so much in so short a time. You realise I have enough on you to put you away for the rest of your life - treason, passing forged notes, sedition, aiding the escape of an enemy alien \- and the icing on the cake - attempting to burn down Parliament House."

"What will happen to Freda?" asked Lawson, as if nothing else mattered. "I take full responsibility for Freda's escape. It was my idea."

There was a knock on the door, and his assistant came in and whispered something to him.

"According to your escapee lover, you had nothing to do with it. She claims she escaped and met you by chance."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Can I go now?"

"There is still the matter of your involvement with Paddy O'Flannagan's terror cell, and the firebombing of shops and warehouses all over Sydney, not to mention the attempt to firebomb Parliament House. I happened to be there that morning – you probably saw me."

"I know nothin' about any of that. Do you have any evidence that puts me there? I was home in bed at the time. You must have me mixed up with someone else."

"I saw you clear as day Lawson, don't try to deny it."

"I thought you said it happened early in the morning," replied Lawson. "You saw someone who looked like me in the dark. I was home with Freda all night. Ask her yourself."

"No doubt, she'll say you were with her," said Leary.

Lawson shrugged.

"We launched a series of raids this morning and arrested the entire leadership of the Wobblies. All of them are heading for a trial and prison. We can include you and your mate, Milne, in the trial. We have enough on you two."

Leary turned his head and shouted, "Bring him in."

The door opened and Milne walked in and sat next to Lawson.

"It doesn't seem that long ago when I had a word with you two about the danger of hanging around with the Wobblies. As I said at the time, it does not look good arresting former soldiers. Particularly a couple of Gallipoli veterans. There is a war on and we need chaps like you two. I know you don't agree with all that Wobbly nonsense. Talk it over; I'll leave you alone for a bit. The deal is you reenlist and no more will be said."

Leary left the room.

Lawson said, "They caught Freda."

"I'm getting a lot of questions at the bank. Leary's been around a few times asking questions. My manager is hinting I should leave."

"All my mates are locked up and I won't be able to see my little Freda until this war is over."

"I miss Mary and she hasn't responded to any of my letters. I'm worried about her."

"Not much point hanging round here is there? Leary will be watching our every move. And O'Flannagan is out to get me. He reckons I ratted on him."

"So to France, me old mate?"

"Yeah, why not. War will be a lot less complicated than the mess we got ourselves into."

VICTORY

### Chapter 14

In late 1916, Mary left the hospital in Egypt to work at the 1st Australian General Hospital at Rouen in northern France. On the sea journey from Egypt to Marseilles, she shared a cabin with six other nurses. They became great friends.

They disembarked in Marseilles and continued by train. En route to the hospital, they stopped in Paris early in the morning. The next leg of the journey did not start until late afternoon, so they made a dash to see the sights of the city. They walked the streets staring in wonder at the fancy shops and lovely old buildings, before returning to the train station and continuing their journey.

Arriving in Rouen, they had a few minutes to settle into their quarters before they went to work. The hospital was overwhelmed with casualties pouring in from the Somme battlefields. Hospital trains and ambulances arrived loaded with wounded.

Mary's friendly laid-back approach endeared her to the wounded soldiers, whose spirits lifted whenever she came into the ward. The older nurses admired the calm way she handled the wounded, no matter how severe the wounds were. Whereas other nurses tired after a long shift, she never flagged. She never complained and regularly took on double shifts. She volunteered to work in the special ward where the bad cases waited to die in peace with painkillers to ease their final moments. Many a night, she kept a silent vigil by the bed of a dying soldier, holding his hand as he went on the loneliest journey of all.

Since leaving Australia several months before, she had thought a great deal about Milne. She regretted that she had been so offhand with him. She had not written to him in the months she worked at the hospital in Cairo. It was only after she settled in at Rouen hospital that she put pen to paper, and wrote him a long letter about her adventures and wishing they were together. She apologised for the way she had treated him before she left Australia. _I am fond of you Francis,_ she wrote, _and now we are apart, I do miss you._ She added that she would be leaving Rouen soon for a casualty clearing station near the front lines.

Several weeks later, she received a letter from him. He wrote that Cliff had joined the infantry and was somewhere in France, and he had joined the Royal Australian Medical Corp and was heading for the casualty clearing station at Trois Arbres near Steenwerck in northern France. He told her he loved her more than ever. He imagined their life together as a married couple with several children running around. _We will have a little suburban house with a garden full of flowers,_ he wrote. _We will sit in our garden under our wattle and gum trees, reading and talking._

Mary lay on her bed and pressed the letter to her chest. She wrote him a letter saying that she would soon be working at the same casualty clearing station. _My darling Francis, I can't wait to see you again, I miss you so much. I hear the countryside around Trois Arbres is beautiful; we will go for walks and explore the villages._

After her stint in Rouen hospital, Mary and several other nurses set out for the casualty clearing station. They climbed aboard an army truck with a red cross painted on the side and set out early one morning through the French countryside. Matron Robinson was in charge of the group.

A few hours into the trip, Mary sensed that something was wrong. The French driver kept stopping and consulting his map. He pulled over to the side of the road and asked directions from a group of French soldiers. She poked her head out the back of the truck to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" asked one of the younger nurses.

"I'm not sure," replied Mary, "my guess is we're lost."

"Call the driver..." before the young nurse could finish her sentence, a shell crashed into the ground near the truck. The driver told them to get out because the Germans were shelling the area. They scrambled out of the truck and lay in a muddy ditch. When the shelling stopped, a French soldier indicated they should follow him to a bunker. Their arrival caused quite a stir amongst the French soldiers and officers. They fell over each other trying to accommodate the nurses, and telling them that they were safe.

A few minutes later, their driver dashed into the bunker and told them a shell fragment had damaged the truck.

"Look at the state of my uniform," said a young nurse.

"Yes, I think we have more pressing concerns than the state of our uniforms," said Matron. "We will have to find another truck to take us to our clearing station."

She asked a French officer if he could find someone who spoke English so they could explain the situation. He bowed and scuttled off.

The shelling started again. They had inadvertently stumbled into the middle of a German attack. There was nothing for it but to bunker down and hope for the best. The artillery barrage continued relentlessly. Some of the nurses were praying as lumps of bunker ceiling and dirt showered them. They heard machine gun and rifle fire. The sound of battle drifted into the bunker. Slowly, the noise abated.

The French officer returned with an interpreter.

Mary explained the situation to the interpreter. He said that the Germans were mounting major attacks along the entire front, and it was too dangerous for the nurses to move from the bunker. He added that there were no trucks available to transport them. However, there were Australian and British units operating nearby and he volunteered to take them to the nearest unit where they might get help.

The other nurses looked anxiously from the interpreter to Mary. They were not inclined to walk about near the front lines. Mary volunteered to go with the officer to the nearest Australian unit, obtain a truck and driver, and return to take them on to their destination. They all agreed that this was the best course of action, and hugged Mary for her bravery.

She and the French officer waited until the shelling stopped and quickly climbed out of the bunker and walked along the communication trench. The devastation of the landscape shocked her. The shelling had ploughed up the earth. There were dead soldiers and body parts scattered about. Medical teams carried the wounded to a first aid post. After following the trench for an hour, they came out onto a muddy road. The mud caked her shoes, making it difficult to walk. The road, clogged with trucks, wagons, ambulances, refugees and soldiers, was chaotic. The French officer was not sure what to do. To add to her misery, it started raining. The road turned liquid.

"How did I ever get myself into this mess," she cursed.

The French officer signalled to a British officer who saw them standing confused by the side of the road. They conferred briefly. The French officer saluted, and kissed her hand before disappearing into the surrounding forest.

The British officer told her there was a first aid station nearby and said he would escort her there. "Come along, miss," he said, "there are Germans everywhere; no one knows where the frontlines are." As they neared a bend in the road, they heard the sound of terrified voices \- a large group of refugees rushed around the corner, looking over their shoulders.

"The Boche are coming this way," one of the refugees called to them.

The officer dragged Mary into the bushes and told her to keep quiet. They lay on the sodden ground. The crowd of refugees kept moving down the road. Not far behind them, she heard German voices. The voices sounded harsh and frightening. Centimetres from her face, a boot squelched in the mud. She dared not look up. More boots appeared. Then silence.

"Sorry old girl, this is where I leave you," said the officer. "Fritz must have broken through. I have to get back to my battalion."

"Please don't leave me; I don't know where I am. Please take me with you."

"Sorry miss, this is a military matter. You'll be all right. Why not change into some French peasant togs and blend in with the crowd, that's the ticket."

He jumped up and ran off into the forest. She heard German voices. All around her German soldiers were searching the forest for British and French stragglers.

She saw a large group of French refugees passing her hiding place. Jumping up, she slipped into their midst. A young French girl spoke to her. Mary shrugged her shoulders. The other refugees did not notice her. They arrived at a crossroad. There were German soldiers strung out along the road directing them north, towards Germany. The French girl walking with her handed her a shawl and told her to put it on. She wrapped herself in the shawl and lowered her head. A German soldier was standing in her path watching her approach. At the last minute, he looked away, his attention diverted by someone yelling. A young British soldier had tried to slip through. He ran for it. A soldier shot him in the back.

She instinctively yelled, "Oh, my God!" and rushed to his side. As she knelt by the wounded man, she recognised him as the British officer who had tried to help her. He died in her arms.

She remained kneeling in the rain and mud cradling his head. German soldiers and French civilians surrounded her.

"Are you British?" asked a German soldier.

"Australian."

"Ah, Australian, come along with me, we'll take you to an officer and decide what to do with you."

She walked beside her captor. He looked at her with pity in his eyes. "You're not a spy are you?"

"No,"

"We shoot spies out of hand."

"I am a nurse, not a spy."

"Good, tell that to the officer."

He escorted her to a car parked by the side of the road. Walking towards it, she noticed a pair of blue-grey eyes watching her approach in the wing mirror. The soldier knocked on the backseat window. The occupant wound down the window and spoke to him. He looked at her for a few seconds and opened the car door. The guard told her to get in. When she showed reluctance, he pointed his rifle at her. The occupant shouted at him and he stood at attention. A hand appeared from the car and beckoned her.

She climbed in full of dread. The car was warm and dry with deep leather seats. An officer was sitting in the back seat shrouded in cigarette smoke. In the dark, she could not make out his features. The driver was looking back at her grinning.

"So you are an Australian nurse," said the officer in perfect English. "Good, good. You will come to my headquarters where I will question you. Then we will decide what to do with you. You must not be frightened."

The journey to headquarters took nearly an hour. No one spoke to her. The officer puffed on foul-smelling cigarettes. Occasionally, he glanced at her. She sensed they were heading north, passing endless columns of German troops marching south.

The car turned into the grounds of a large chateau with a long gravel path, and pulled up at the entrance. A guard opened the car door. The driver directed her inside. She entered a foyer with a marble-floor. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling. A broad marble staircase ran up to other floors and she counted at least three corridors running off the foyer. Clerks hurried back and forth across the foyer.

No one took any notice of her. She stood in her muddy, damp clothes like a lost orphan.

The driver took her by the arm and directed her down a corridor. He unlocked a door that led into a small foyer. In the gloom, she saw two doors. He pointed to the door on the left, and opened it. She stepped in and looked around the room as he closed the door behind her. There were two narrow camp beds, a small table, and two chairs. A washbasin and jug sat on the table. There was no window, so the room was dark and gloomy. A fire burned in the fireplace. As her eyes became accustomed to the dark, she noticed that there was someone lying under the covers of one of the beds.

Deciding not to wake the person, she pulled a chair over to the fire and flopped down exhausted. She tried not to think about what was going to happen to her.

The door opened and the driver came in with a bundle of clothes under his arm and a tray with a bowl of soup, bread, and a hot drink. He put the bundle on the bed and said, "This is all I could find. They are dry. You can dry your wet clothes by the fire. My name is Corporal Reiner."

He was a small, stout man, dressed in a smart uniform. She thought him very effeminate the way he lisped and put his hand on his hip when he spoke. He did not smile.

"Please sir, what will happen to me?"

"You rest and eat, and then the Count will question you."

"The Count, who is this Count?"

"You'll find out." He smiled before turning on his heel and slamming the door.

The slamming door woke the person in the bed. She sat up yawning and smiled when she saw Mary. The woman said something in French.

"Pardon me, I don't speak French," she replied.

"My English is good but only a little. You speak no French. We will make do, yes? My name is Bridget." She was in her mid-twenties and had long, black hair, olive skin, full lips and luminous green eyes.

Mary said she was an Australian nurse and asked Bridget how she came to be at the chateau, whether she was ill or injured, and what the Count wanted from them.

"I was arrested by the Count and questioned," she said in halting English. "I am accused of spying."

"So am I," cut in Mary. "But I'm not a spy, I'm a nurse."

"Can I trust you?" asked Bridget.

"Yes," said Mary, sitting on the bed.

Bridget looked into Mary's deep brown eyes as if she was gazing into her mind. "Do you have any papers on you?"

Mary handed them to her.

Bridget lowered her voice. "You really are a nurse. I can trust you. I work for French Intelligence and I am here on a mission."

"A secret agent!" said Mary. "Oh, how romantic..."

"Please, keep your voice down. If the Count finds out, he will have me executed. My cover is I'm a teacher from a village school nearby. Before the war I was a schoolteacher."

"What is your mission?" asked Mary.

"You must swear on your life that you will not tell the Germans what I am about to tell you. Even if the Count threatens you, you must swear never to tell my secret."

"I'm only a girl from Sydney, but I'm tough," she said proudly. "I do this for Australia. I swear that whatever you tell me will remain in here." She put her hand on her heart.

Bridget told her that there was a prison behind the chateau, which held captured French officers. Her mission was to find out if a certain officer, who Bridget would not name, was a prisoner. The officer knew the details of an impending Allied offensive, and if the Germans had captured him, he might divulge military secrets under torture. All Bridget had to find out was whether this man was a prisoner and report.

"So all this time the Count has been questioning you, you have been questioning him! Brilliant!"

"It is not as easy as that," replied Bridget. "There is only one way to find out if he is a prisoner – I must go to the prison and find out if he is there. When I have the information I need, the intelligence network will help me escape. I am one of France's top agents. There are agents on the inside and outside who know I'm here. The agent on the inside is a peasant girl from a nearby village who works in the kitchen. I have made contact with her. She seduced the guard and stole the key to our room, made a copy for me, and returned it. As soon as I have the information I came for, she will tell our agents on the outside. They will smuggle me back to our lines. I will take you with me."

Mary gushed with excitement. "Gosh, what an interesting life you must lead! I bet you have had lots of adventures."

Bridget nodded. She threw the covers off to get out of bed.

Mary noticed that she had bruises and welts on her legs. "What happened to you?"

"The Count...his interrogation methods can be harsh...the marks on my back are worse."

"Is this what's going to happen to me? You must tell me what he will do to me. I need to be prepared."

"The Count is a sadist and enjoys inflicting pain on prisoners. But he's smart enough to know you're not a spy. He'll play games with you, scare you, and then when he's had enough, he'll send you to a camp."

"What do you mean by playing games with me?" she asked. "What does he intend to do to scare me?"

"He has the power to do as he pleases. You are an attractive girl. He will tie you up, undress and touch you. That's the sort of man he is."

Mary was dumbfounded. "But...but...I'm a prisoner of war, he can't do that." Her blood boiled at the injuries the Count had inflicted on Bridget and what he was going to do to her. "That monster! There must be something I can do to stop him."

"If I were you, I'd play along with him. You are an attractive young woman. He's a man and the chase excites him. You must give him enough to make him hungry for more - but hold him off. I suppose you're a virgin?"

"Yes, of course I am. What has that got to do with anything?"

"If the Count knows this, it will increase his desire for you. Use this to your advantage. Make yourself desirable but unobtainable."

Mary put her head in her hands. "But I know nothing of this. I do not know how to make myself desirable. I am not that sort of a girl! What am I to do? Is this where it will end for me? Oh poor Francis, he'll never know what happened to me."

"Come, change into the dry clothes and eat something," said Bridget, getting dressed and sitting at the table.

Mary took off her wet clothes and put on the dry clothes Reiner had given her. Bridget hung her wet clothes by the fire.

"You must tell me what the Count did to you so I am prepared," said Mary, sitting on the bed eating a stale bread roll.

Bridget replied that the guards had taken her to the interrogation room the day after she had arrived at the chateau. After questioning her, the Count ordered a guard to handcuff her and take her behind the screen where he kept his instruments of torture. The guard attached the handcuffs to a rope suspended from the ceiling.

"The Count walked slowly towards me smiling wickedly, saying nothing, and started undoing the buttons on my shirt. My shirt fell open, revealing my silk chemise. He tore it off, and ran his cold hands all over my breasts and body. He demanded to know what my spying mission was. I told him I was not a spy. He squeezed my nipples very hard."

Mary let out an involuntary squeal.

"Then he undid my skirt and it fell to the floor," she continued. "He rubbed and squeezed my bottom. He stopped and walked over to a table on which were a collection of canes, feathers and other instruments. He selected a cane and swished it in the air. He gave me one more chance to speak. I denied I was a spy, and kept repeating that I was a schoolteacher. He whipped my bottom and legs with the cane. 'You will confess,' he kept saying. He dropped the cane and rubbed against me. Suddenly, he fell to his knees, and kissed and rubbed my bottom, thighs and legs."

Mary put her hand over her mouth and kept repeating, "The brute...the fiend..."

"Anyway, try not to think about it. Get some sleep, it is late."

Mary climbed into bed but it took her a long time to get to sleep.

She woke early and lay in bed looking around her bleak room.

"Good morning," said Bridget, who was sitting at the table sewing.

Mary lay under the blanket and smiled to herself until she realised the difficult situation she was in. She thought about Francis, and remembered his last letter to her about their future together. Unfortunately, the letter was in her bag back on the truck. As she wondered whether she would see him again, a tear came to her eye. She checked herself. _No good crying about it old girl, you have to be brave. You have patched up hundreds of wounded. That took courage. You have held their hands and comforted them. That took strength of character._ She sat up and became angry. _That Count Whateverhisnameis is a bully and a brute. I'll stand up to him; show him what an Aussie girl is made of! I am not scared of him. And as for that little corporal, I can take him. The man's a front dodger._

She climbed out of bed washed her face in the basin of water and dressed. Walking around the room, she brushed her hair.

The door opened and Corporal Reiner bustled in. "You will talk to the Count now. Some advice young lady - tell the truth. The Count will find you out if you lie. Come along."

He turned and stepped out the door.

She followed him down the corridor, and turned into another corridor and then another. He scurried down the corridors with a ridiculous mincing skip in his step. She lost sight of him. She turned into a corridor and he was standing impatiently holding the door open. "Come along young lady."

Mary entered the room. A man she recognised as the officer from the car was sitting behind a desk. There was a neat pile of papers in front of him. He did not look up. The corporal pointed at a chair directly in front of the desk facing the officer. She sat down nervously.

"So, you were spying on our army. Who do you work for?" His voice was harsh and cruel.

She guessed he was in his early fifties; he was clean-shaven and had a prominent chin. She thought his harsh voice did not match his face, which was handsome and aristocratic. He had deep-set, penetrating blue-grey eyes, and neatly combed greying hair. When she looked closer, she noticed he had combed his hair from the sides of his head and piled it on top. Why she noticed this at this critical juncture she was not sure. Perhaps it said something about him.

In one breath, she told the story of how she was with a group of nurses transferring from one hospital to another when they were caught in a battle.

While she spoke, he looked down at his papers as if disinterested in what she had to say. He made a few notes. She stopped speaking and waited. He said nothing. She started talking again, adding more detail.

He held up his hand. "You need to be aware of your situation Nurse Mary Batten, if that is your real name. I am the security chief for this sector of northern France. No one knows you are here. As far as your masters know, you will be listed as missing and never heard of again. You will be my guest until you have told me the truth. I have all the time in the world."

"I've told you the truth," she pleaded, close to tears. "I'm so tired...you must believe me. I'm not a spy."

He launched into a tirade against the Allies, saying that Germany would win the war, that the Allies were beaten; the French useless and the English pathetic, and the Australians had been defeated at Fromelles and Pozieres.

"The German soldier is the best in the world. And you Australians, from your backward country on the edge of the Pacific, come here to fight against the Fatherland. Your cause is hopeless. Now, what are your orders?"

Mary's anger rose to boiling point. "Look here you damn Fritz, I'm not a spy. I have already told you how I came to be in the forest. I demand you release me immediately."

The Count smiled as if he found her response amusing. "I don't think you realise the position you're in my dear Nurse Batten. You are my prisoner. If I think you are a spy, then that is enough to have you shot."

He called Corporal Reiner who was standing outside in the corridor. "Corporal, form a firing squad immediately and execute Nurse Batten within the hour. She is another Nurse Edith Cavell. A damn spy - don't think you can hide behind your uniform."

"What!" she said angrily, but her heart was beating fast. "Shoot me - is this your German justice? You're living up to your image of the wicked Hun."

"Don't stand there with your mouth open, Corporal, get a move on and that's an order."

Reiner cluttered off down the corridor.

Mary needed to call his bluff. If she mistimed it, she could end up on the end of a firing squad.

He sat opposite her smiling and tapping his fingers on the desk. He watched her intently, licking his lips from time to time. She calmly stared over his head at the back wall. She put her hands on her lap so he could not see them shaking.

Reiner returned and said he had assembled the firing squad.

Mary shrugged and stood up defiantly, saying, "I go to my death for my country."

"I've changed my mind," said the Count. "Corporal, tell the men to stand down." He told Mary to sit down. "And don't think you've fooled me with that act. You knew I would not shoot you - at least not until I have the evidence to convict you. You are a cool one. This proves you are a trained spy."

"I've already told you I'm not a spy." She told her story all over again.

"So be it," he said. "I will get the confession I need from you. But I might be lenient with you if you help me."

"Why should I help you?" she replied.

"I have the power to send you to a camp where you will be well-treated. All I ask is that you tell me what Bridget tells you. I believe she is a French agent but I cannot prove it. You help me, and I'll help you. If you don't cooperate, I will enjoy tying you up and getting a confession out of you." He licked his lips in a disgusting way.

Mary remembered what Bridget had said about playing along with the Count.

"I will help you if I can," she replied half-heartedly.

The Count smiled. "You may return to your room. I will be calling you again soon."

Reiner took her back to her room and closed the door behind her.

She told Bridget about the Count's offer to be lenient with her if she informed on her.

"But this is good news." said Bridget. "This means he does not have any evidence to convict me. Now we have something to work with. You must pretend to work with him. I will give you little pieces of information to feed him. But don't make it look too easy. You'll have to act the part."

Mary scratched her head and wondered how she was to act the part of a smouldering siren and double agent all in one.

"Now look here," continued Bridget, "when you next see the Count, flatter him, tell him you admire him. He has a giant ego, and if you stroke it, you will have him in the palm of your hand. We have to buy time. When I have what I need, we will escape."

"I'll do it for my country," said Mary with enthusiasm.

Overcome with emotion, Bridget threw her arms around her, kissed her on both cheeks, and said that she was a true patriot. "France and Australia together against the wicked Boche!"

The following morning, Reiner brought a bag of new clothes for Mary. He put them on the table.

"I have brought you some new clothes, get dressed, the Count wishes to see you in the interrogation room. I'll be back for you in twenty minutes."

"You must be strong, Mary," said Bridget. "Don't tell him my secret even if he threatens to strip and lash you without mercy."

Reiner arrived and escorted her to the Count. She steeled herself for her session. As she followed him down the winding corridors, she thought how she might play the Count. He was a crafty old fox and he would spot an obvious ploy on her part. She had to be careful.

She followed him along a narrow corridor and down a flight of dark stairs.

"This is where I leave you," he said, avoiding eye contact.

He turned away and hurried up the stairs.

She stood awkwardly in the middle of the foyer, watched by a guard. The guard was an ugly brute who looked her up and down with a slimy grin on his face. She ignored him and turned to her inner resolve. _Come on girl, courage_. _You've faced worse in hospital. No Fritz is going to scare you._

"Enter!" said a harsh voice.

The guard wiped the grin off his face and opened the door. She hesitated for a few seconds before stepping into the room. The Count was leaning back in his chair behind the desk. A long screen ran across the room. She knew what was behind the screen, and tried not to shudder.

"Sit down," he said.

She walked boldly to the chair and sat down with as much grace as she could muster.

"I must say those clothes fit you very well, and I am glad to see you are being treated well," he said. "You are a delightful young lady which is why you were recruited as a spy. You think you can use your innocent, little-girl looks to get away with spying."

"Thank you Count, I am being treated well. Moreover, I appreciate what you have done for me. May I ask you a question?"

Her response surprised him. "Yes, go ahead."

"How on earth do you manage to provide intelligence services to such a large area of northern France? You must be a man of considerable stamina and strength."

He looked at her suspiciously. However, she had sufficiently stroked his ego. "Yes, I have been entrusted with an important task to protect the Fatherland from spies and saboteurs."

"Please excuse my curiosity," she continued, "I guess that before the war you were a great athlete - perhaps skiing, or horse riding?"

"You are a very astute young woman; I have won many medals for the sports you mentioned plus archery."

"Please forgive me if I seem a little simple, Count, I have never met royalty before," she cooed, laying the charm on with a trowel. "I just can't believe I'm actually talking to royalty. I cannot wait to write home. Mum will never believe me."

She had managed to do the impossible - she had flustered the Count, one of the most feared interrogators in German Intelligence.

The Count looked down at his papers. He was considering how he might regain the initiative.

"I have one more question," she said, "Are you married?"

She had innocently strayed into a sensitive area of his life. The Count's wife had died before the war. He was devoted to her memory. Before he could answer, she picked up a picture of an attractive woman sitting on his desk.

"Is this your wife?" she said, "what a beautiful woman."

He started to find her behaviour irritating. _How dare this little nobody...this commoner...unsettle me._ He snatched the picture back.

"We are not here to discuss my personal life, Nurse Batten. I believe you are a spy. Your act does not fool me. At this stage, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I can wait. If you don't cooperate, you will know what awaits you behind the screen."

She glanced at the screen and swallowed.

"I have business in Berlin, and I will be away for a week. When I return we will talk again. I hope by then you are prepared to tell me all."

"Corporal Reiner, take Nurse Batten back to her cell...I mean her room," he shouted as he walked towards the door.

Reiner scurried in saluting and bowing. He came in so fast the door nearly hit the Count.

"Come on man, get a move on." He whacked him over the head. "And be more careful next time, you clumsy oaf."

She followed Reiner back to her room. He was in a bad mood because the Count had struck him in front of her. He ushered her into her room, and stormed off in a huff.

Bridget was dressed and sitting at the table writing. "I have been waiting for the Count and his puppy dog to leave so I can put my plan into action. Tonight, we will sneak out the back of the chateau to the prison. We will creep to a prison window, and ask a French prisoner if the officer in question is there."

Mary felt privileged that she was included in this dangerous mission.

They waited until midnight and used the copy of the key to unlock the outer door into the dark corridor, which led to a maze of narrow passageways. The chateau was deathly silent. They arrived at the back door. She hoped that she did not lose sight of Bridget because there was no way she would be able to find her way back to her room.

Bridget opened the door and signalled Mary to follow her outside. They slipped into the garden, and crept along the edge of the tree cover. Peering into the gloom, Mary looked over to the prison - an ugly, grey building. To their right was a gravel path, which led to the entrance of the prison. On either side of the path were low hedges and bushes.

Bridget pointed to the left side of the prison and said that there were windows opening onto the rooms where the French officers lived. "You stay here; I'll tap on a window, and hopefully wake a prisoner and not a guard! Here I..."

She gripped Mary's arm and put her finger to her lips. Mary could hear voices. She turned her head to the right, and saw two guards walking along the outer perimeter of the prison. It seemed to Mary that they were heading for their hiding spot. In her mind, she went through the reasons why she was hiding in bushes at the back of the prison.

One of the guards stopped and relieved himself near where Mary was lying. She could feel the spray splattering on her arm. When he had finished, the guards continued their patrol.

"It's getting light," said Bridget. "We'll have to abort the mission. Let's go back."

Mary smiled at the thought that she had been on a secret mission. She could not wait to get home and tell her friends and family.

"Go to bed," commanded Bridget, "the sun will be up soon. To bed, Mary, to bed."

### Chapter 15

Milne watched the French countryside rush by. The train, packed to the roof with Australian soldiers on the way to the front, sped through lush meadows. Most had never been to Europe before and stared in wonder at the quaint stone farmhouses surrounded by stone walls and green meadows. They pressed their noses against the windows, shouting and yelling. Whenever the mood took them, they burst into song. The train by-passed Paris and sped north, to the front. The countryside became colder and bleaker as they moved further north; a heavy mist lay over the land. At Calais, the train turned east. Troops disembarked at various points.

He arrived at his stop, and walked to the casualty clearing station, a jumble of huts and tents, buried in the early morning mist. Arriving at the gate, he waited patiently for the guards to check his papers. In the distance, he heard the rumble of guns. A guard directed him to his tent, which he shared with four others. He unpacked his gear, and hurried to the administration area to see if he had any letters. The clerk handed him a letter sent by Mary posted from Rouen. He recognised Mary's handwriting on the envelope. He hurried back to his bunk to read it. _She loves me_ , he thought, pressing the letter to his chest. _She must be here by now._

He returned to the administration area, and struck up a conversation with the clerk. The clerk seemed to know everything going on at the hospital. Milne asked if he knew whether Nurse Mary Batten had arrived yet from Rouen.

He went through his files, muttering to himself. He frowned. "She's not here, there was a problem..."

"I don't understand. I got a letter from her saying that she and several nurses were transferring here from Rouen hospital. That was months ago."

"I can't keep track of everyone, mate," he replied grumpily. "Maybe her transfer fell through. I don't know."

He relented when he saw how upset Milne appeared. "Look, a group of nurses from Rouen arrived here a few months back. They said something had happened on the way. Ask Matron Robinson, she'll know."

As he was walking back to his tent, two shells landed nearby and blew up a building within the hospital's perimeter. Fortunately, there were no casualties, but a shell destroyed valuable medicines. He was blown off his feet and landed unceremoniously in a muddy ditch. He scrambled out and continued on his way, oblivious to the uproar caused by the explosions. Back in his tent, he lay on his bunk trying to understand what had happened to Mary. While he was mulling this over, a young orderly walked in and introduced himself. He said that he had just worked a twenty-hour shift, and he needed to sleep. "You're to report to the reception area immediately." He flopped on his bed.

Arriving in the reception area, an officer looked Milne up and down, noting his mud-splattered uniform.

"A couple of shells landed nearby," he explained, trying to scrape the mud off his uniform. "I should go back and clean up, sir."

"No, you can do that later. I expect you to look smart in future."

He explained Milne's job was to unload the wounded from ambulances in the reception area. He introduced him to the doctor who sorted out the severely wounded from the lightly wounded. "Dr Gerald Henderson's the name," he said welcoming Milne. "You can call me Hendo, or Doc. I tend not to stand on ceremony, mate. I do not know if you have done this type of work before, but if you are going to be any good to me, I need you to get over the sight of mangled blokes quick smart. If you reckon the sight of these blokes is going to make you sick, just think what they have been through. Some of them have been lying in trenches full of water under constant German shelling for months on end."

"I can handle it, sir...Hendo...Doc," he stammered.

"You've been at the front?"

"I fought in New Guinea at the beginning of the war. I copped a dose of malaria, which put me in hospital for a few months. When I recovered, I took part in the August offensive in Gallipoli. I fought at a place called Hill 60."

"Gallipoli, eh...Hill 60," he said with a note of admiration in his voice. "You have been in the thick of it. I served there for a few months. I heard about what you blokes did at Hill 60."

Milne nodded. "I'll do this work until I'm well enough to get back into the infantry."

"Well, if you've fought in Gallipoli, you will be accustomed to seeing wounded soldiers. You have to learn to stand back if you get my meaning. Some of the wounded are just bloody kids. They come in missing limbs, smashed bodies or victims of gassing. Some are terrified out of their wits. You have to be calm. If you panic, they are more likely to panic. Some are delirious from pain and shock. Our actions here will determine if the wounded live or die. When the wounded come in, I classify them according to their type of wound: the serious cases go to the Resuscitation Ward, gas victims to the Gas Ward, ophthalmic cases go to the Ophthalmic Ward, chest cases to the Chest Ward, and so on. The lightly wounded go to the dressing tent where they are patched up and returned to their units."

Milne set to work, helping to carry wounded from the ambulances to the reception area. The ambulances arrived one after the other. The wounded were brought in covered in blood with mangled limbs, terrible facial injuries, chest and stomach wounds, multiple wounds, crushed bones and skull fractures. He was surprised at how little fuss the wounded made. Entry to the reception area seemed to have a calming effect on them. Some were pale with a cigarette clenched between their teeth. Others tried to smile and crack jokes.

One soldier, covered in blood from a severe gunshot wound to the arm joked that the injury might spoil his chances with the girls.

"I've been in the wars," he said with a feeble grin.

"How were you shot?" asked Milne.

"The Germans attacked our trench," he replied. "They came in under a barrage and swarmed into my trench. We went at it with bayonets, knives, bombs, clubs and fists. I bayoneted a big Fritz, but as he fell back, he squeezed a shot off at point blank range. Look mate, if things don't go right for me, can you write to my father in England?"

"What's your name?"

"Sergeant Harry Hadley, 7th Field Company Engineers, AIF." He searched his blood soaked pockets for an address.

"Don't worry, I'll find you after your operation and get the address," said Milne. "You'll be right, mate."

"Cheerio, I'll be seeing you," said Sergeant Hadley, waving his good arm. He was taken away to be patched up.

Doc, who overheard the conversation, took Milne to one side. "I know your intentions are good but don't make promises like that. If every soldier coming through asked you for a favour, you won't have time to help the wounded."

He nodded and got on with it. The flow of wounded continued into the evening. He and Doc worked without a break late into the night. Most of the wounded he carried in had been in no-man's-land for days, and several died soon after they arrived. Late in the evening, a new shift came on and he staggered back to his bed.

He collapsed fully clothed on his tiny camp bed. Despite his exhaustion, his mind would not let him sleep. The terrible sights he had seen played through his head. He remembered one boy soldier who could not have been more than sixteen gasping for breath with lungs eaten away by mustard gas. The boy clutched Milne's hand and called for his mother. "Please...I don't want to die so far away from Mum," he gasped. There was not a lot he could do for him. He had told him he would see her again. A few minutes later, the boy fell quiet and smiled, his eyes staring into the dark that only the blind do see. The image of the boy haunted him. He tossed and turned barely getting an hour's sleep. When he opened his eyes, it was still dark and cold. All around him, others were waking up. He did not want to get up and go back to the reception area. The thought of what he had seen sent a cold shiver down his spine.

"Come on Private Milne, get up and be quick about it," said the officer in charge.

He dragged himself out of bed and went to breakfast with the others. After breakfast, he was encouraged to explore the hospital before his shift started. The hospital was a maze of tents and buildings. The engineers had built good roads; and they had sunk wells to ensure a reliable water supply. He found a large operating theatre and X-ray department. The theatre was quiet now. He walked inside and looked at the spotless tables and sheets.

"Can I help you?' asked a nurse standing behind him, looking him up and down. She looked like a no-nonsense woman, stern looking and imposing, but with a glint of kindness in her eyes. As he replied, she bustled around the theatre getting it ready.

"I'm new here and just feeling my way around. I started yesterday. I unload the wounded from ambulances and take them to the reception area. Private Milne, at your service."

"I see," she said, raising one eyebrow. She continued to fuss around, glancing up at him occasionally. "I'm Matron Robinson."

"Matron Robinson, you might be able to help me. I am a friend of Nurse Mary Batten. Is she here?"

"No, I'm afraid there was an incident. When we were transferring here from Rouen, we were caught in a German attack. Mary went to find help. She didn't return."

He was dumbfounded. "Have her parents been told?"

"I don't know, son, now run along, I have to get the operating theatre ready."

He turned to go.

"It's hard at first, son," she said. "Most people get used to it after a while. Some never do and they're no good to anyone."

She walked up to him and patted his arm reassuringly. "Now off you go, you're in the way."

He walked off in a daze. What had happened to Mary? He wondered if the Germans had captured her. The thought of her in enemy hands drove him to despair. He walked along a wooden pathway lined with a row of huts. The largest hut was the mortuary, which he noticed was full. The pathway led into the hospital. Walking through the different wards, he recognised Sergeant Hadley and looked at his tag, which said that he was going to another hospital.

"I thought I was going to lose my arm, but the doctors patched me up good and proper," he said cheerfully. He shook Milne's hand.

Milne settled into his work. He started his shift each morning and worked until relieved. There was no let up in the flow of wounded. He saw the most dreadful sights, and was astonished how some of the wounded could still be alive. He carried in a young soldier still alive despite the gaping hole in his chest. He could see the rise and fall of his lungs through the bloody wound. The young soldier gripped his arm, and pleaded with him to look to his mate who was in a worse way. He looked at his mate - he was dead.

The months flew by. During quieter periods, Doc sent him to a first aid post near the front. He worked as an orderly, helping to patch up the wounded straight from the battlefield. A driver taught him how to drive a motorised ambulance. He enjoyed these jaunts through the French countryside. Nearer the front lines, the scenes were less pleasant. The ground had been stripped bare of trees. There were massive craters, artillery emplacements, muddy roads and ammunition dumps.

In his limited spare time, he did everything he could to find out what had happened to Mary. He wrote to the military authorities, asked his commanding officer for help, and wrote to Mary's parents. At last, Mary's mother wrote informing him that the authorities had listed Mary as missing, believed a prisoner. Her letter could not disguise her distress and fear for Mary. A few weeks later, his commanding officer told him Australian officials had made inquiries to the Germans concerning her fate.

He put his head down and hoped for the best. While he was waiting, he received a letter from Lawson. He had not heard from him since they left Australia several months ago. Cliff wrote that he had joined the 4th Australian Division, commanded by Major General Holmes. Lawson was pleased he was with his mates, and he liked old Holmes. _A decent enough bloke,_ he wrote. _He hasn't changed much. My unit had only been there a few days, when old Holmes comes along for an inspection. He stopped in front of me, and says, 'Private Lawson, you finally made it'. 'Yes sir,' I says, 'I'm over 'ere to give Fritz a good thrashing just like we done in New Guinea'._ _The officer standing next to him was looking daggers at me for being so free and easy. But old Holmes says, well-done young chap, and walks on. After he left, all the blokes crowded around me and asked me how I knew Holmes. Anyways, he's wearin' his hat with red stripes and a German sniper takes a shot at him. The bullet missed 'im but hits his aide, Lieutenant Fergusson. His old man is a High Court judge. So anyways, Holmes had to leave him behind at our post. During the night, Fritz shelled us, and Fergusson copped some shrapnel. When the shelling stopped, they carried him off to 'ospital._ _Poor bloke looked in a bad way. And that's how it is up here._

Lawson added that some of their mates from the New Guinea campaign and Gallipoli were in his battalion. _Remember Marcus and Mad Tom? They survived Gallipoli and Fromelles. Marcus still has his nose stuck in a book. And Mad Tom is even madder. He reckons it helps to be mad in the trenches. They were in the thick of it at Pozieres._

Despite his usual joking style full of swearing, bad grammar, and his habit of making fun of officers, he could not disguise his horror at the fighting at Bullecourt. If there is a hell, it was Bullecourt, he wrote, the battlefield was covered in snow, but the snow and the mud got all mixed together. During an advance, some of the wounded drowned in the slush before we could pull 'em out. The artillery fire from both sides never let up night or day. We went in and took a German trench. We killed everyone who resisted and some who wanted to surrender. The Germans counter-attacked. We drove 'em off. When they retreated we took off after 'em and grabbed their trench. But they counter-attacked and we fell back to where we started from. A few months ago, I was the new kid on the block, now I'm a veteran, and the kids look up to me. An officer said I should be promoted! Can you imagine that? Me, a corporal or a sergeant. I'm keeping me 'ead down.

Lawson went on to say that he nearly won a medal for an attack on a German held trench. He was his usual shy self. Some German machine-gunners had us pinned down. The officer leading us was shot in the head. I'd had enough of this. So I leapt out of the trench and ran at the Germans firing me Lewis gun from the hip. You wouldn't believe it, but their gun jammed. I killed the lot. The rest of the blokes jumped into the enemy trench and patted me on the back. We searched the German dugout and found a case of French wine. We was all parched so we drank the whole case. An officer came along and put me on report. So I told him to pull his head in, and gave 'im a little tap on the chin. They charged me with insubordination and assaulting an officer. I won't be getting that medal after all.

Lawson could not believe that he, Mad Tom and Marcus had survived the carnage when so many men fell. During a night attack on a village near Bullecourt, he wrote they took a ruined village after hard fighting. The Germans responded by pounding the area with their artillery killing many of the men who had taken part in the attack. For reasons not clear to him, they clung to the village as if it was the most strategic bit of land in the world. Despite their utter exhaustion, the wounds, the mud and blood, they beat off one attack after the other, until the Germans gave up.

Lawson signed off saying that if he survived the inferno they would go on the biggest pub crawl in history.

Milne smiled as he read his letter. He wondered if they would ever see each other again.

He was worried about Mary. He read her last letter to him again and again. He walked to the entrance to his hut and looked into the night. He went over and over in his mind what the word 'missing' might mean. Was she a prisoner? Had she been wounded? Worse, had she been killed? Mary...Mary...please come back to me.

For the next month, Milne heard nothing further from Lawson. The hospital was put on alert as the number of wounded were expected to increase due to a new Australian offensive. All leave was cancelled.

A few weeks later, the wounded arrived by the hundreds. These men were not only wounded but traumatized by what they had experienced. Amongst the wounded was Lawson. At first, he did not recognise him. He was covered in mud and blood, his uniform was torn and bits were missing. He looked like he had been through hell. He was drawn and haggard. His eyes were glazed over. Milne cleaned him and probed for wounds. Doc came over and had a quick look. He decided on an immediate operation and allocated him to a ward.

Several days later, he visited Lawson to see how he was going. Like a cork, he had bounced to the surface. He was sitting up in bed, with a cigarette hanging from his lower lip, telling the other patients stories.

"Here's me little mate," he shouted, when Milne walked into the ward.

Lawson told him about his experiences. "We'd barely recovered from the last battle at Bullecourt when we went in again. You would have been proud of the boys. We advanced in waves. Our artillery was hammering the German trenches and artillery positions. We kept advancing, knocking out strongpoints as we went. We fought our way to the wire. There were bodies of our blokes hanging on the wire from the last attack. What a bloody shambles! So, some of the blokes fell back because we couldn't get through the wire. The German machine-gunners opened up from entrenched positions beyond the wire. It was a bloody mess, I'll tell you. My unit jumped into a trench and waited for orders. Others did the same as us. An officer came up and told us to stay where we were because our artillery was about to clean the Germans out. The artillery opened up and we got ready to attack. The artillery managed to miss the Germans because as soon as we stuck our 'eads up, we got shot to bits. The officers were trying to rally the men, but most of 'em were shot down."

Lawson stopped and drank some water.

"An officer ordered us to fall back. But he was hit by a sniper. So we decided to stay where we were. But more blokes from other trenches started falling back. Then Fritz attacked all along the front. They hit our lines with artillery and sent in bombing parties. By the end of the day there were only three blokes left out of fifty who weren't wounded or dead. Then a shell hit me trench and that's the last thing I remember." He fell silent and lay back on his pillow.

"You're lucky you weren't wounded too badly, you should be up and about in no time."

"I'm off on leave next week, reckon I'll nip over to London and visit some relatives."

"You are coming back aren't you?"

Lawson smiled and closed his eyes. "Now, don't start putting ideas into me head, old chap. I need a rest after what I've been through."

Not far from the casualty clearing station, Major General Holmes was making final preparations for an attack. An artillery duel raged in the background. He and his officers were standing at the head of a large table examining a map.

"To reiterate gentlemen, we are to attack this position here. Any questions? Good, take your positions and await further instructions. I hope some of you can join me tonight for dinner. We have a special guest; the premier of New South Wales, William Holman, will be dining with us. No doubt, he wants to tell the voters back home he toured the battlefields. A good story for the press. I'm showing him around the battlefield tomorrow."

Premier Holman arrived, and an aide escorted him into the dugout. They shook hands and Holmes invited him to dinner with his senior officers. "Tomorrow I'll take you up to the front."

"Sounds wonderful. Perhaps not too close to the front," he said hesitantly. Nearby a shell exploded so loudly that Holman jumped. "Oh dear, that was very close."

"We've had closer than that," said Holmes jovially. "Damn shell came through a dugout roof a week ago nearer the front and killed some of my officers. You know, a sniper shot my last aide, Captain Fergusson. Then the poor beggar was hit by shrapnel while he was waiting for an ambulance."

"Oh dear, how unfortunate," said Holman nervously. "I have never witnessed such destruction as I saw on the road up here. The earth churned up. Trees reduced to burnt stumps. And the hospitals overflowing with wounded, some lying in the mud on stretchers."

"You seem a little unnerved. I have been at this war for more than three years. I was in New Guinea at the start of the war, and then Gallipoli. I have grown accustomed to battlefield conditions. We are grinding the Germans and Turks down. They cannot last much longer. Victory is on the horizon."

They sat down to dinner.

"I heard Mr. Hughes is planning another conscription referendum after the first one was defeated last year," said Holmes.

"Yes, it was very close. Mr. Hughes was terribly disappointed. What about you, sir, where do you stand on conscription."

"I'm glad to say I'm a soldier, not a politician, and I don't have to worry about such things. The British, French and Germans all have conscription, but I wonder about the quality of the conscripts. On the other hand, our losses this year have been high and most of the battalions in my division are below strength. We have been told we will have to win the war with what we have."

"We are engaged in a life and death struggle between despotism and democratic government," said Holman, as if he were addressing State Parliament. "Australia is in grave danger. We must not let German militarism win. Mr. Hughes stands up for Australia."

"I want this war over as much as anyone. I miss my daughter, Dorothy, and my son Basil - I hope to see them again. There are times when I feel like I have reached the end of my strength. I wake up after a few hours sleep and can scarcely move my body. It is as if a huge weight has been placed on my chest during the night."

"I see. It must be hard at the front."

"We are drowning in a sea of mud and blood - we attack and our lads are mown down by machine guns and artillery. Then we do the same to the Germans. And each battle leaves us with fewer soldiers. Reinforcements are not filling up the gaps fast enough."

"Yes, these are hard times. But we must fight on," said Holman. "I'm sure we'll win the next conscription referendum."

"Perhaps." said Holmes.

After dinner, Holmes and Holman discussed politics over a brandy.

"I understand that you and Mr. Hughes were expelled from the Labour Party for your support for conscription."

"Yes, we have formed a new party, the Nationalist Party of Australia, which won the May elections. The conservatives joined with us to form a party of national unity. Our enemies thought they had outmanoeuvred us, but we routed them and those traitors and cowards now sit in opposition. They tried to bring us down, but the Australian people turned on them at the ballot box. We are sure we will win this conscription campaign."

Premier Holman yawned and asked to be excused for the night. He left Holmes to continue his lonely vigil into the night.

Holmes had become accustomed to sleeping little. He fussed over maps, worried about the soldiers he was sending into battle, and wrestled with his conscience. He stood at the entrance to the dugout and looked over the dark battlefield. In the distance, flashes of fire told him that somewhere along the front, artillery was shelling trenches, and more soldiers were dying.

He turned in for the night, but was up again a few hours later. He walked back to the dugout entrance and watched the sun gradually rising over the grey battlefield.

Holman emerged hollow-eyed and joined him to watch the dawn.

"Sleep well?" asked Holmes.

"No, not really, the artillery bombardment kept me awake for most of the night."

"I have grown accustomed to the sounds of war. Right, let's get this show on the road. We'll drive to Hill 63 overlooking the Messines Ridge. You'll be able to get a good view of the battlefield. We should be able to see the German trenches."

As the party drove towards the front in a staff car, Holmes pointed out things of interest as if they were on a tour of the French countryside. "Now, over here premier, you can see an anti-aircraft battery in action. Driver, pull up here and let's watch them."

A shell landed nearby and sprayed dirt over them. The explosion blew Premier Holman's hat off.

"My God! That was very close. Are we at risk here?"

"No, the Germans must know you're visiting us. They are putting on a show for you. We will drive on to the bottom of the hill and walk to the top. You can see the trenches and German positions from there."

"Sir, there has been a lot of sniper activity in this area," said the driver, "and the Germans are targeting staff cars."

"Pull over here driver, and we'll continue on foot," said Holmes. "Good day for a walk."

"Are you sure it is safe? I think I've seen enough," responded Holman.

"No, no, I insist you see the view from the top of the hill - it is spectacular. You'll be able to see the German lines. Come along, this way, premier."

"Major General Holmes, I have a bad feeling about this. Last night I had a premonition of death."

"This is the right place to have a premonition of death - we are surrounded by it."

The party continued up the hill on foot.

"Damn, I left my hat behind in the car, I'll go back and get it," said Holman.

Holmes and his party continued walking up the hill. Just as Holman grabbed his hat and turned to catch up with them, a shell landed nearby and shrapnel struck Holmes in the chest and neck.

"Oh my God!" cried Holman, "he's hit. He's down and bleeding. Quick driver, bring him in. What shall we do? How serious is it?"

"He's unconscious and bleeding badly," said the driver.

"I think I'm going to be sick," said Holman going pale. "Oh dear, this is my fault, I should not have insisted on seeing the front."

"Come on, let's get an ambulance and get him to the nearest first aid station," shouted the driver.

An ambulance rushed Holmes to the first aid station.

Milne was on duty at the first aid station when the stretcher-bearers carried Holmes in. He could see that Holmes was in a bad way and stood back while a doctor tried to revive him. The doctor shook his head and told Milne and another orderly to move him to an area already crowded with dead and dying.

They carried him into a dark tent where the dead lay prior to burial. The other orderly left, while Milne stayed with Holmes for a few more minutes. He thought he saw Holmes' head move.

"General Holmes, can you hear me?"

There was no response. He turned to go when he felt a hand grip his arm.

"What...who is that... it's so dark, I can't see," croaked Holmes, "Lieutenant Travers bring up the guns...Colonel Watson...can you hear me?"

He opened his watery eyes and stared about him. "Who's there?"

"Private Francis Milne, sir. I was with you at Rabaul, and at Gallipoli."

"Milne? Yes, I remember. They were great days Milne, when we captured so much from the Germans, and then came Gallipoli...so many young men died there...I don't have long...Milne, tell my family how I died...come death I don't fear you, come, you've followed me all these years, waiting for me, waiting, I was never ready...my dear country...I die for you, oh...I die for you."

Holmes fell silent. His eyes open. A slight smile on his lips. Milne pulled the sheet over his head, and stood by the bed.

He took a step back and saluted, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek. "Sir, it's been a privilege knowing you. I've never known a man more courageous. Goodbye sir and God bless you."

### Chapter 16

After the death of Major General Holmes, Milne volunteered for the infantry. He felt stronger and ready for action. He joined Lawson's battalion.

The members of the battalion included his friends from Gallipoli, Mad Tom and Marcus. After the bloody fighting at Bullecourt, the battalion retired behind the front to rest and recover. It had suffered heavy losses. A trickle of new recruits arrived to fill the gaps. Billeted in a small French village some distance from the front lines, but near enough to hear the distant sounds of war, the exhausted battalion recuperated. When he arrived at his billet, an old French farmhouse, his friends greeted him warmly.

"My God, young Francis," shouted Mad Tom. "Heard you were a hospital orderly."

Marcus, who was sitting against the farmhouse wall with his nose in a book, looked up and walked over to him. They shook hands. The three of them stood in a circle. He talked about his experiences as an orderly. Mad Tom and Marcus filled him in on what had happened to them since Gallipoli.

"Come on," said Mad Tom, "we'll show you to your billet. You can bunk with us."

They walked into a huge barn with ladders running up to the lofts. Mad Tom scooted nimbly up a ladder. He and Marcus had thrown blankets and pillows on top of the hay to make comfortable beds. Milne threw his blanket on the straw between them.

After he set himself up, they strolled down to the village. The village had a couple of wine bars and did a roaring trade selling cheap red wine to soldiers. They sat in a little café in the afternoon sun, talking quietly and sipping rough red. They were content to talk for a little, punctuated by long silences. These were not uncomfortable silences. They revelled in the silence, as if enjoying what could be their last drinks, or their last chance to say what they thought. The war seemed a distant memory, even though they could hear it.

Mad Tom said to Milne, "You haven't seen that mate of yours, Lawson, have you?"

Milne told them he last saw him at the hospital recovering from his wounds. He had then gone on leave.

"Yeah, that was a month or so ago," replied Marcus.

"You don't think he's..."

"Absent without leave?" suggested Marcus.

"That bloody rogue!" said Mad Tom. "He's probably living it up somewhere, and knowing him there'll be a woman involved."

A week later Lawson showed up. They crowded around him, asking him where he'd been.

"I thought you had deserted, you bastard," said Mad Tom.

"Bloody hell mate, I was wounded," replied Lawson, hurt that his friends would think he would desert. "Thought I was a gonner for sure. There must be a greater power looking out for me."

"Where you been for the last month?" insisted Mad Tom.

"Got a few days?" said Lawson.

They sat around in the afternoon sun, as he told them about his adventures in London. He said that he'd visited a distant cousin. She and her husband owned a pub, and they insisted he stay with them. One evening he met a war widow, who drowned her sorrows in the bar, and they became friendly. He wrapped his welcoming arms around her every night for the next two weeks. At this point, his leave expired.

"So I'm sitting in this pub debating with meself whether to return to the trenches and face certain death, or stay in the pub drinking beer every night and going to bed with me sheila."

He fell silent. "No contest in the end."

"So you did desert," insisted Mad Tom.

"I'd rather say I lost track of time, which is what I told the police when they raided the pub. And I would have gone quietly if it hadn't been for the way one of 'em grabbed me and called me a deserter. So I called 'im a front dodger and asked if he'd like to have my job in the trenches for a bit. He didn't like that and went for his baton. I clocked the bastard. It was on for young and old after that. The fight spilled into the streets. In the confusion, I slipped away and headed back to France. The coppers arrested me the next day for being absent without leave."

"Didn't they chuck you in the clink?" asked Mad Tom.

"Yeah for a bit, but my commanding officer came to my defence and said that for all my faults, I'm a good soldier, and he needed every veteran he could lay his 'ands on."

"Good to see you," said Milne

For the next two weeks, they trained, marched, and prepared themselves for the battles to come. Although Milne did not seek promotion, it came to him. He was promoted to corporal, and then acting sergeant. The army even promoted Lawson to corporal; such was the shortage of experienced soldiers. Milne led a small unit, which consisted of a core of veteran soldiers - Mad Tom, Lawson and Marcus - and a group of new recruits. Thirty new recruits arrived at their camp. The officers divided them amongst the units. Four new recruits joined Milne's unit. When they arrived, he was appalled at how young and inept they looked. He was lost for words at the sight of these innocent lambs, and wondered how long they would last in battle against experienced German soldiers.

"Bloody hell, they're sending us schoolkids," said Lawson.

"Corporal Lawson, I want you to teach them everything you know about war," ordered Milne.

Lawson gave one of his humorous salutes, which had his mates in stiches.

"You blokes, line up over 'ere," he said, putting on his most commanding voice.

The four recruits lined up obediently.

"Starting from the left, tell me your name and what you did back home."

"Private Peter King, piano tuner," said the first recruit, a short, tubby boy.

"That'll come in handy if the Huns need their pianos tuned. Next."

"Private David Webster, grave digger and general labourer," said the next recruit, a tall, thin man with a sallow complexion.

"Very useful skill where you're going, you'll be busy."

"Private Paul Waller, university student," said the next young enthusiastic recruit. "My friends call me Wal."

Before Lawson could make a quip, the final recruit said, "Private Eric Martin, wagon driver."

"All right you lot," said Lawson, "forget everything you learned at training school because out here it's bloody useless. No doubt, you've wasted hours learning how to bayonet the enemy. You're unlikely ever to get close enough to 'im to use a bayonet. Most blokes get killed by machine guns, shells, shrapnel or snipers."

Lawson stopped to let his message sink in.

"Now see this pair of ugly looking mugs 'ere?" he said, pointing at Marcus and Mad Tom sitting nearby enjoying the show, "they've been in the trenches for two years and they're still alive. Why you ask?"

The recruits did not offer an explanation.

"Because they know where a shell is about to land, they keep their 'eads down within five miles of the front to avoid being shot by a sniper, and pure bloody luck."

Milne stepped forward and introduced himself. He told them he was assigning two recruits to the care of each veteran. They were to watch what they did and follow them in all things. "If Marcus or Tom runs, you run, if they drop to the ground, you drop to the ground."

For the next three days, they took the recruits in hand and showed them how to survive at the front.

Their sojourn didn't last long. The battalion moved into the frontlines near Polygon Wood. As they marched towards the front, the debris of war lay in a jumble across the landscape. The trees had been stripped of their leaves, the mud churned up, revealing the decaying bodies of soldiers and civilians. There were burnt gun emplacements, smashed wagons and dead horses and mules.

"Incoming!" shouted Lawson diving into the mud.

A shell crashed near their line of march. They plunged to the ground as a shell landed in a crater full of dead horses. A rain of horse entrails splattered them. More shells fell around them. Two new recruits from another unit panicked, leapt up and ran to a deeper trench. Shell fragments tore them to pieces the moment they broke cover.

Milne was pleased to see his recruits followed Marcus and Mad Tom in everything. He patted them on the back when the shelling stopped. "Don't bunch up; we're getting near the front. Keep your ears and eyes open. Watch what Marcus and Tom do."

They cautiously scrambled to their feet covered in mud and horse guts, and continued the march.

Late in the afternoon, they arrived at the trenches. Their unit relieved a battered unit, which had been engaged in fierce fighting and had suffered heavy casualties. The battle-weary soldiers staggered gratefully out of the trenches and shook hands with them.

The trench system they occupied was well constructed. There were deep dugouts, which had survived several bombardments. Duckboards lined the trench floor. They found a dugout and stored their food and ammunition. The dugout had enough room for thirty men. The bunks were squeezed together three high. There was enough room for a long table and chairs.

"I reckon I could get used to this," said Lawson. "This is better than Bullecourt."

They had a good view of the front, and could see the enemy trenches. Occasionally, they heard German voices carried on the breeze. The soldiers who had occupied the trench before them warned them about snipers. Milne and Lawson had been around long enough not to stick their heads over the trench. They sent word down the line to be aware of snipers. Unfortunately, the young, less experienced soldiers pushed their luck. An hour after they occupied the trench, a young bloke from another unit standing next to Lawson stuck his head over the trench to have a look.

"I wouldn't do that if I was you," said Lawson. "We lose a lot of blokes to snipers."

"I know what ..." a sharp whip crack ended his sentence. He crumbled against the trench wall and slid down. The bullet had gone through his forehead and blown out the back of his skull.

Splattered with blood and brains, Lawson said laconically, "I hope the army 'ave a good laundry service out 'ere."

During the night, the Germans shelled their trenches. Then the battlefield fell silent. Their dugout filled with soldiers bunkering down for the expected enemy barrage. Mad Tom said that the Germans must have got wind of the impending attack and were breaking up the jumping off points. About fifty men crawled into the dugout, burrowing in as deeply as possible.

The enemy barrage began slowly and then reached a crescendo. For an hour, the shells fell all around them. The earth shook, but the dugout stood up to the shelling. When the shelling stopped, they tumbled out of the dugout and lined the trench expecting an infantry attack. It didn't come. As Mad Tom had said, the Germans were smashing up suspected jumping off points. The barrage moved along the front, further south.

Although the trench stood up to the shelling, parts of it had collapsed, burying a number of men alive. The survivors frantically clawed at the earth to dig their mates out. Lawson and Mad Tom grabbed hold of the legs of a couple of men and yanked them out from under a mountain of soil and debris. In the bombardment, their platoon had lost nearly half its strength wounded or killed. Two men carried their badly wounded platoon leader into the dugout. Milne could see he was going to die. At least in the bunker, his last hours on earth would be relatively comfortable.

Milne's little unit came out unscathed.

A senior officer came out to their position to review the situation. He promised that he would send a new platoon leader and reinforcements. But he said the attack, which was set for dawn the following day, must go ahead.

Late in the afternoon, their new platoon leader arrived with ten reinforcements. Milne and Lawson stared in wonder as he walked down the trench saluting the soldiers.

"I don't believe it," whispered Lawson. "Hothead! Of all the platoons he could lead, he ends up here!"

It was indeed their nemesis, Hothead, or Captain Kevin Plumpton, to give him his correct name and title. He walked along the ranks and stopped in front of Lawson. "Well, well, Private Lawson." He looked at his corporal's stripe. "I stand corrected, Corporal Lawson." His eyes wandered onto Milne. "And Milne is here as well. Report to my dugout at 17.00 hours sharp, the pair of you." He continued his inspection of the trenches. When he had gone, the other men crowded around them asking them what they had done to attract his attention. They told them the story of the New Guinea campaign, and how they had fallen out with him.

"Stone the crows, we're in the shit this time, mate," said Lawson as they walked like condemned men to his dugout. "He'll have it in for us. He'll probably send us on some suicide mission."

A little before 17.00, they reported to him. His batman showed them in. The dugout was spacious. There were a couple of bunks, and a desk with papers on it. He came from behind a partition at the back of the dugout, which they assumed to be a wash area because he was wiping his hands with a towel.

He sat down at his desk. Milne and Lawson were standing at attention.

He smiled. "At ease, sit down chaps."

His easy nature took them by surprise. They exchanged quick glances as they sat down.

"You're probably wondering how I ended up here," he said affably.

"I remember you stayed behind in Rabaul as part of the garrison," said Lawson, relaxing.

"Yes, that's right. There was work to be done. In July 1915, the German settlers staged a mutiny in Rabaul, but I was ready for them. Yes, they thought they could fool me, but I found out about their uprising and arrested the lot of 'em. We ended up transporting twenty-five of 'em, including a handful of missionaries to Australia for internment." He chuckled to himself, obviously pleased that he had stopped the rebellion in its tracks.

"I always suspected they resented us," said Lawson.

"Anyway, once I put the rebellion down, it was time to move on. I worked at headquarters in France for a time. But the shortage of platoon leaders meant I was encouraged to seek an active posting at the front. I was at Bullecourt, as you were Lawson, according to your records."

Plumpton looked down at his papers. Milne thought he wanted to say something, but didn't know how to say it. He sensed that something troubled him.

"I didn't expect anything like this," he said thoughtfully, as if he was thinking aloud. "I don't know what I expected...but so many men killed and wounded, at times it is unbearable." He broke off, and pulled himself together. "It's the big push tomorrow; we're going to give the Huns a sound thrashing. I've looked at the platoon and you two are my most senior soldiers. You both joined in August 1914, and here you are more then three years later. You both fought at Gallipoli and you Lawson, fought at Bullecourt, a hell of a battle...my God...the artillery...it never stopped..." He hesitated, and looked down at his papers.

Milne and Lawson exchanged glances. Milne could see that Plumpton was struggling to control himself.

"Sir, are you all right?" asked Milne.

Plumpton nodded but did not lift his head. They waited for him to recover. Milne had seen many soldiers and officers crack under the strain of battle conditions. It astonished him that more did not crack under the hellish conditions.

He slowly pulled himself together. "According to your records neither of you seek to be officers, is that right?"

"Sir, I just want to do my bit, and that's all," said Milne.

"That goes for me, as well," replied Lawson.

"If we're going to get through this, I need men who know what they're doing. I want you two out the front leading the men."

"Sir, I'm not terribly interested in being an officer, acting sergeant is enough for me," said Milne.

"Milne, you don't get to pick and choose in the army. Let me ask you this. Did you see the ten recruits who arrived with me this morning?"

"Yeah, three looked like they were still in nappies, and the other seven looked ancient," said Lawson. "We must be scraping the bottom of the barrel."

"Exactly my point. I want experienced soldiers leading the men in battle. Milne, I expect you to lead by example. And if you perform well, I'll recommend you for promotion. About face, quick march."

"Now we're for it," muttered Lawson as they walked back to their dugout. "I reckon he's about to break. I've seen that look of a man under pressure. You know I heard a rumour that during the battle of Bullecourt, his whole platoon was wiped out and 'e was wounded."

"He does look a bit flighty. He's a changed man since we saw him in New Guinea."

"I reckon he's had the bluster knocked out of 'im," rejoined Lawson.

"I feel sorry for him in a way, you know. He's been thrown into battle and he's not up to it."

Lawson laughed. "You should feel sorry for all of us in that case, we're all in the same boat, mate. Why should he be different? He's an officer; he's supposed to lead by example. And what's his commanding officer doing about it? He should demote 'im or send 'im to the rear, to headquarters."

"We're stuck with him," said Milne.

A few hours later, Plumpton summoned Milne to another meeting. The dugout was crowded with other officers and unit leaders. Plumpton had regained his composure. He told them that they were to take part in a coordinated British attack on Polygon Wood. The objective of the battle was to put into practice the lessons learned at the battle of Menin Road - the use of massed artillery to smash German defences, the rapid advance of infantry behind the creeping barrage, and the capture of strategic positions. Once the troops took these, they were to dig in and hold them against expected German counterattacks.

He handed out maps, and explained the objectives of each unit. He fell silent and looked down at the dugout floor. Milne wondered if he was about to fall to pieces in front of everyone. He looked up and spoke. "What we do here, on this small piece of Flanders, will echo around the world. When you go into battle, you will be taking the hopes of Australia with you. We want this war to end. To do that we must beat the enemy into submission. Go to it lads, show 'em what you're made of."

They cheered and rushed off to their positions.

Returning to his trench, Milne gave his men a few words of advice and encouragement. He told them to get some sleep. They managed a few hours sleep before the British guns opened up on the enemy trenches. They prepared themselves for battle, each soldier thinking about the coming action. They waited silently while the earth shook and the air smelt of gunpowder and death. The artillery concentrated on smashing the heavily fortified concrete pillboxes.

Milne pressed his face into the trench wall. He had stuffed cotton in his ears to block out the sound. In his hand, he clutched a whistle. Slowly the barrage crept over the German front trenches to the rear areas and gun emplacements. He blew his whistle, and leapt out of the trench. To his left he saw Lawson, Marcus and Mad Tom in the front line, running towards the German trenches. To his right, he could see other units advancing. Ahead, he could see flames from the exploding shells through the thick dust.

The dawn light revealed a scene of utter devastation. The shelling had ploughed up the earth as if a giant had hacked it with a hoe. The hurricane of shells had smashed the concrete pillboxes. Bodies lay everywhere.

Milne told his men to spread out and not bunch up which made them easier targets. He told them that the fight was not over and they needed to stay alert. A large intact pillbox held up the advance. A considerable force of Germans defended it with machine guns and grenades. Milne ordered his machine-gunners to concentrate on the pillbox loopholes. He led a small group of bombers forward, found a ventilation shaft and dropped a couple of bombs in. The explosion opened up a large hole, through which they threw more bombs. The survivors staggered out with their hands up. Their uniforms were filthy and covered in blood. They looked like cornered animals.

They continued the advance. The few defenders left behind to slow their advance had little fight left and after firing a few shots, either surrendered or fled.

Milne and Lawson came together to confer.

"We're doin' all right," said Milne. "Our main objective is further on. This village here." He pointed to their objective on the map.

"We've lost a few," said Lawson, doing a quick head count.

They watched as a messenger approached. "Don't stop now, keep going. The village is up ahead, the German defences are in disarray."

As they advanced, they merged with British units on the attack. By evening, they had reached the edge of a village - or what was left of a village. They advanced cautiously through it. The Germans had abandoned it. The platoon spread out, secured the area, and posted lookouts on all sides.

That night, Milne and Lawson sat down together in the rubble to confer. Between them, they had only ten fit soldiers, including Mad Tom and Marcus. Milne sent back a runner to ask for reinforcements and orders. While they waited, they made the most of their exposed position. They dug out a trench and reinforced it. Milne sent a couple of men back to find a field kitchen. They returned a few hours later with canisters of food.

After dinner, they settled down as best they could. A runner arrived from Plumpton. "You're to stay here and fight off an expected German counter-attack."

"Where are our reinforcements?" asked Milne.

The runner shrugged his shoulders. "Not my problem, mate. I'm just the messenger."

"Go back and tell our platoon leader that if the Germans attack in numbers, we're in trouble."

The runner saluted and rushed off with the message.

Later that evening, Plumpton arrived for an inspection. Milne thought he had a hunted, subdued look about him. He thanked Milne for the way he had led his men. Milne accompanied him as they did the rounds of the soldiers, urging them to stay alert and telling them reinforcements were on the way.

Plumpton stopped to address them. "Soldiers, you have won the battle of Polygon Wood, a battle which will be long remembered in Australia. I commend the leadership of Sergeant Milne, and the bravery of you all."

Past midnight, they heard the sounds of activity on the German side. Milne decided to patrol the area. He, Lawson, and Wal crawled into no-man's-land. It was pitch black. Milne could see that Wal was terrified. "We'll be right," he whispered, patting the boy on the arm. "We'll go over to that low wall and see what the Germans are up to."

They slithered across the ground to the wall. They lay still and listened. They peered over the wall - into the eyes of two enemy soldiers on the other side of the wall. The Germans were as shocked as they were. They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, and then both parties slowly lowered their heads and slithered away in opposite directions.

Back in their own trench, they told the others about their surreal experience. There was not much time to dwell on the strangeness of the incident. Before dawn, the Germans opened up a massive bombardment of the territory captured by the Australians and British. They knew that once it was over, the enemy infantry would attack. The bombardment tore up the recently captured trenches. However, the shelling overshot Milne's forward position.

When the shelling stopped, Plumpton arrived in their trench.

"Shit, look at that," said Lawson, pointing across no-man's-land.

They watched as hundreds of German soldiers climbed out of their trench and charged across the open field at an angle to their position.

Plumpton went pale and looked back as if he was planning to make a hasty retreat.

"I 'ope you stay here, sir, we can use every man we can get," said Lawson, reading his mind.

He did not reply, but pulled out his pistol.

"They don't seem to know we're here," said Milne. "Hold your fire boys, make sure every shot counts and keep your heads down."

The Germans were now so close that Milne could see their pale faces contorted by the effort of running across the field with heavy equipment. It made him feel sick to see his enemy so close. They were just kids.

Plumpton could bear it no more. He leapt out of the trench and ran towards the rear.

"Bloody hell, I thought he looked a bit timid," said Lawson. "How the hell did a dud like that get made an officer?"

The enemy were getting closer and closer. They were shouting to give themselves courage.

The Australian machine-gunners opened up at close range.

The attackers had no place to hide or run, but straight ahead. Their officers were behind them urging them on. They changed direction and charged straight at Milne's position. As they did so, other Australian troops opened fire from the flank.

From his elevated position, Milne saw the devastating impact the machine guns had on the charging Germans – bullets cut down the first two lines. The two lines of infantry behind them fell on their stomachs and fired back. Some lost their heads, jumped up and ran in the opposite direction. Milne ordered his men not to fire at these men until they had accounted for the Germans firing at them. They concentrated all their fire on the survivors. The attackers retreated under a hail of bullets. The guns fell silent. The wounded groaned. Lawson counted at least fifty enemy dead and dying.

Although their battalion had taken heavy casualties, Milne's unit came through unscathed. But they were in a desperate situation. Exhausted from lack of sleep, hunger, and the constant fighting, they were at breaking point.

"Hold the line, lads, we won't let 'em take back the trench, no way," said Milne.

The Germans attacked again. This time the attack was weaker than the first. The assault collapsed in the desperate defence of their little combat group.

There was a lull in the fighting. A messenger arrived to report that a stray bullet had seriously wounded Plumpton. Milne went back to see if there was anything he could do. Plumpton was lying in a shell hole. An orderly had patched him up, but he looked in a bad way.

Milne climbed into the shell hole. Plumpton lifted up his hand. "You see, I've been wounded."

Milne had a look at the wound. He knew that it was fatal.

Plumpton looked up with his last bit of strength. "Milne, please, it's important to me how my death is recorded. I want my parents to remember me well. I'm sorry about running off. They didn't give me a chance to recover from Bullecourt. Hell on earth. My whole platoon wiped out! And they expected me to forget it happened and get on with it."

Milne turned to the messenger. He dictated a letter to Plumpton's parents along the lines that he had died while directing a battle against superior enemy forces. Despite the dangerous situation, he kept his head, and died beloved by his men and all who fought with him.

The dying man put his hand on Milne's arm. "Don't let me die alone. Goodbye old chap. Good luck."

Milne put his hand on his shoulder. "You did your best, sir."

He smiled and died. The wind ruffled the letter in the messenger's hand. Milne asked him to type it up and he'd sign it. He returned to their position.

For a week, they held the position against increasingly weak attacks. In the end, the Germans gave up the bit of land they had lost.

Milne's unit did not have long to bask in the glow of victory. One morning a runner arrived to inform them that the battalion was to play a supporting role in the capture of Broodseinde, a town north of Polygon Wood. At dawn the following day, they dusted themselves off, picked up their guns and set off to the jumping off points. It was raining and miserable as they marched along roads turned to slush by thousands of marching men.

"Look at that," said Marcus, "flares, and lots of 'em."

"Get into the nearest dugout," shouted Milne.

They dashed and slid through the mud and dived into a long ditch and lay piled on top of one another until they sorted themselves out. A few minutes later, a barrage of shells fell on the Australian positions further north of them. Milne and Lawson scrambled to the top of the ditch and looked out.

"Bloody hell, someone's getting it in the neck," said Lawson.

The others pulled themselves up to the top of the ditch and watched as the horizon lit up in flames. They could feel the hot blast on their faces. As soon as the bombardment stopped, the British and Australian artillery opened up. They watched as soldiers swarmed out of the trenches and ran behind the sweeping barrage. Milne's unit joined the attack in the second line. Moving forward, they saw hundreds of shell-shocked prisoners with their hands up running back to the allied lines.

A few weeks after the battle of Broodseinde, their battalion retired to the rear to recover. They were billeted in an old farmhouse near a small village. A river ran through the village, and when they were off duty, they sat or lay on the banks, revelling in the silence.

The retreat of the German army was the source of lively discussion. "This is just like it was in New Guinea," said Lawson. "I reckon the old Hun has just about had it. Soon we'll be in Germany."

"Yeah, if we don't run out of soldiers before they do," said Milne grimly.

"I wouldn't be too quick to say we have 'em on the ropes," said Marcus. "I heard that Russia is out of the war. All those German divisions in Russia will be on their way here."

Lawson puffed on his cigarette. "I 'ope they give it up, I've bloody had enough of this war."

No one argued with him.

Milne lay back and looked at the blue sky. For a few moments, he was in paradise. A warm bed, rest and relaxation, and above all no one trying to kill him. He would be happy if the war ended today. He thought about Mary and dreamed that they would be together when the war was over.

### Chapter 17

Mary woke early in her prison room in German-occupied northern France.

She and Bridget had endured long, monotonous days languishing in their room. They had tried a few times to make contact with the French officers, held prisoner in the prison behind the chateau, but the prison was heavily guarded, and they were not able to get close enough.

After the Count had been away for two weeks, he returned. The first Mary knew of his return was the reappearance of Corporal Reiner. He asked her if she had found out any information about Bridget. She said she had, but she would only talk to the Count.

"The Count wishes to see you tonight. He asked that you wear these clothes for dinner. I will be back later to escort you. Be ready."

Mary opened the bag and was surprised to see the quality of the clothes; there was a corset, an evening gown, a chemise, silk stockings and elegant high-heeled shoes. There was also a box of cosmetics.

"I think the Count likes you; he has never asked me to dinner," said Bridget.

Bridget helped her apply powder and rouge. When they had finished, Mary inspected herself in the mirror. "You do look a picture, Nurse Mary Batten," said Bridget. "Now girl, don't waver or back down. You can do it."

There was a knock at the door and Reiner told her it was time to go. He looked at her approvingly as she opened the door. He put out his arm as if he was taking her to a ball, and escorted her to the Count's lair. She hoisted her dress up as she climbed the spiral staircase. She came out at a carpeted landing. Reiner knocked on the door and a familiar voice told them to enter. The Count, resplendent in his uniform, greeted her at the door.

"Welcome to my humble quarters, Nurse Batten."

He directed her to a two-seat sofa. She sat down gracefully and looked around the large, richly decorated room. Over by the window, a dining table was set for dinner. A servant busied himself at the table.

"I trust you had a pleasant trip to Berlin," she said, trying to make small talk.

He sat in an armchair opposite her giving her the strangest look. She could not decide if it was lust, excitement or happiness. Yet there was a glimmer of coldness in his eyes.

"Yes, the Kaiser is very pleased with my work to arrest terrorists, saboteurs, spies and traitors. The war is going very well for Germany. We have defeated Russia. The Allies have failed to break through at the Somme. Soon all Europe will fall to Germany and there will be the dawn of a new era for mankind."

She nodded politely throughout his rant.

He escorted her to the table. The servant dished up boiled potatoes, sauerkraut, and roast pork. She had never seen so much food in all her life. A servant poured out a glass of red wine. She had never tasted wine. She took a sip and smiled.

He talked relentlessly during dinner; he didn't so much talk as make a continuous speech. He spoke about the hopelessness of the allied cause and the inevitable triumph of Germany. Mary nodded and made the occasional comment in German – a fact that seemed to impress him. However, she was not really listening to his drivel. She imagined she had a small pistol in her purse and that at the appropriate moment she would pull it out. She could imagine the look of shock on his face. Without hesitation, she would shoot him. Bang! The air would fill with smoke. He would fall to the floor gasping for breath, a look of shock on his face. She would calmly walk over to him, point the gun at his head and say, "This is for the Aussie boys in the trenches you despicable Hun." Bang! She would smile and put the smoking pistol in her purse and walk out calmly. She realised he had stopped talking and was watching her.

"I believe the English would say, you are off with the fairies," he said.

After dessert, they returned to the sofa. The wine made her feel light headed.

"That is a very pretty dress you are wearing. It once belonged to my wife. You remind me of her very much. The same sparkling eyes, so full of life, the soft round lips."

Even in her wine haze, she could see a glint in his eyes. "Please Count; I'm honoured to be wearing the dress of a Countess. I am not worthy of it. I shall return to my room, change and return the dress."

"No! You will do no such thing," he screamed. "You will stay where you are."

The expression on his face changed from kindly to rage in a split second. His eyes flashed with fury.

She decided to remain silent and let him make the next move.

He fell silent and bowed his head. When he looked up the kindly expression had returned to his face.

"Now to business," he said, "other than learning some German words, what have you found out from Bridget?"

At last, Mary had the floor. She spun a wonderful tale. She said that although she had won Bridget's confidence, she had divulged little. However, she felt Bridget trusted her and given more time, she would be able to find out what the Count needed. She told her story with such charm and eloquence, throwing in the occasional German word, that the Count let her prattle on, content to listen to her sweet voice and hilarious mashing of the German language.

"When I was in Berlin, I thought about you. I do not believe you are a spy." The expression on his face changed. "However, you now have information that I need."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Do you take me for a fool?" he laughed. "I encouraged you to talk to Bridget because I knew she would tell you her little secret – a woman can't keep a secret from another woman. You have walked into my trap. My tortures could not loosen that French bitch's tongue. She is a spy, trained to withstand pain. You on the other hand are a little nobody, a commoner. You will quickly tell me what I need to know."

"Count, I told you everything Bridget told me. If she does have a secret, she has not told me."

"If you tell me what I need to know, no further harm will come to you. I will give you another week to think it over. I have business to attend to – more spies to be shot – when I return, I expect you to tell me all.

Mary shook her head and pleaded her innocence.

"Tonight, I invite you to stay here with me. You will find I am a considerate lover."

Very diplomatically, she said, "I am flattered that a man in your high position would be prepared to do me, a nobody as you called me, the honour of making love to me. I would like time to consider your offer. When you return in a week, we will talk further. I know as a gentleman you will respect my wishes."

He seemed satisfied with her answer. "You are a bold one, I must say. Corporal Reiner will escort you back to your room."

Mary took her leave thanking the Count for a wonderful night.

When she had left the room, the Count mused, _You are my prisoner. I can do what I like with you. Perhaps I will order my guards to go to your room and bring you here – I will have my way with you! Or I could take you to my torture chamber, Nurse Batten. No! That would be too easy. I enjoy watching you play your childish games. It amuses me, and arouses me. Either way, I will have you._

Reiner said little as he escorted her back to her room. He was having one of his little moods. He opened her door and pushed her in. She told Bridget what the Count had said. Bridget was concerned that the Count would break Mary and get the information he needed.

"I'm not as weak as you think," she replied.

"So you think you will be able to hold out against the Count's tortures."

"Yes, I will not tell him anything. Anyway, he told me he would be away for a week. Perhaps we should plan our escape sooner rather than later."

Bridget nodded. "I still need to know whether the French officer is a prisoner. As soon as I know this, we can escape."

Reiner woke Mary and Bridget early the following morning. "You must get dressed immediately and come with me."

They stumbled into the corridor half-asleep. They exchanged glances as they followed him down the corridor, through the entrance hall and down a flight of steps. There was a strong smell of cooking coming up the staircase.

He led them into an enormous kitchen. Several cooks and kitchen hands bustled about. "You will work here until you are told differently." He called over an enormous, mean-looking woman, and told her to put Mary and Bridget to work.

"Such fine ladies!" she said. "You will work. No work, I beat you, understand?"

She grabbed Mary's hand and looked at her palm. She laughed cruelly and spat on it. "Soon you have working hands."

"Pardon me madam," said Mary meekly, "we have not had breakfast yet. We are both very hungry."

The woman grabbed a large wooden spoon and whacked Mary hard on the bottom. "No work, no eat."

She put them to work, peeling potatoes, sweeping the floors and cleaning dishes. All the time they worked, Brunhilde, as they nicknamed their oppressor, shouted obscenities in German. She was a fearsome woman, with large muscular arms and a hairy, warty face. The slightest infraction or slacking off brought her steaming down on them with her large wooden spoon.

"That evil, old hag!" whispered Bridget, after Brunhilde hit her hard on the bottom. "As if I don't have enough bruises there."

"Why is the Count doing this to us?" muttered Mary.

"This is one of his little games," she said. "He is punishing you for refusing to sleep with him last night."

"You two," shouted Brunhilde. "Now eat."

She pointed to a long bench where the other kitchen employees were eating bowls of gruel. They meekly complied and ate the thin greyish liquid. The moment they gulped down the last mouthful, Brunhilde shouted, "Schnell...schnell... to work."

Late in the afternoon, Reiner came down to the kitchen and collected them. He said nothing all the way back to their room. He gave them each a small loaf of bread and told them they would work in the kitchen until the Count returned. The next two days passed slowly. Reiner arrived to collect them and take them down to the kitchen where they were brutalised by Brunhilde. They were on a meagre diet and grew weaker by the day. Mary was concerned that if they did not attempt an escape soon, they would be too weak to run.

Then fortune smiled on them. They were working in the kitchen on the fifth day when French aircraft attacked the chateau. The bombing was intense. The kitchen staff rushed to a bunker, which ran the length of the complex of buildings. The guards also evacuated the French officers and took them to the bunker. While the bombing distracted the guards, Bridget was able to pass a message to one of the officers. A few minutes later, her note came back with the information she wanted. Mary had watched the proceedings out of the corner of her eye. When she saw Bridget smile, she knew she had what she wanted.

A few hours later, Brunhilde drove them back to the kitchen. When Brunhilde was distracted, Bridget passed the message to her contact in the kitchen.

Bridget told Mary it was time to put their escape plan into action. The plan was simple. They would wait for word from Bridget's contact that the French intelligence network would help them escape. Then it was a matter of setting a date and time. Once they had agreed on a date, they would slip into the secret passageways of the chateau, and emerge in the grounds. A guide would take them to the nearby forest. Once in the forest, they would follow the winding paths, skirting open country, dotted with small villages and isolated farmhouses. Bridget was aware that the Germans were pulling back towards the Hindenburg Line to shorten their lines. For a short period, the front lines would be porous. The Germans would leave behind a no-man's-land of thinly populated villages where the escapees could hide until the Allies arrived.

While they prepared for their escape bid, the Count returned from Berlin and sent for Mary. Reiner escorted her to the Count.

"Come, sit down, I hope you were not inconvenienced by working in the kitchen. These are difficult times for Germany. Our enemies are massing against us, denying us our rightful place in the sun. We must all do our bit for the Fatherland."

"I am not afraid of hard work," she replied.

"Yes, of course, our little working class nurse." He looked down at his papers. "Now, what are we to do with you, Nurse Batten? I suppose there are many options – we could exchange you for one of our captured nurses, or I could hold you here longer...and force you to tell me Bridget's secret. You are aware of my methods of persuasion."

She remained silent and expressionless.

"There is an alternative," he said. "Tonight, I am hosting a party in honour of the inevitable victory over our enemies. You will come to my chambers after the party, and you will spend the night with me."

He stopped again. When she didn't respond, he continued. "You will see that resistance is useless. If I so desire it, my guards will drag you to my chambers."

"I don't think it's brave what you want to do," she said. "I am defenceless. You have guards and weapons to enforce your will."

He threw his head back and laughed. "I still don't think you have grasped the gravity of your situation. We are not playing a game. Do you know how many people I have had shot? Do you think you are someone special, immune from suffering? Is your precious virginity worth that much to you?"

"It is not about my virginity, it is about your morality. What would your wife say if she were alive and sitting in this room?"

The mention of his wife, hit him hard. He found himself in a ridiculous position. He could not comprehend why he had not seized her and done what he wanted. Something seemed to stop him. Instead of increasing his desire for her, her words wounded him and deflated his desire. _How dare she mention my wife!_ _She is not worthy to stand in the same room as my highborn wife._

"Unless you agree to come to me tonight, Bridget will be shot as a spy. I expect your answer immediately."

"I will do as you say."

He rubbed his hands together. "Excellent, you will not regret this."

Reiner escorted her back to her room where Bridget was waiting for her. She told her what had happened.

"This is good," said Bridget, beaming. "I have been contacted by the network. An agent will meet us at two o'clock tomorrow morning. You go to the Count's room tonight, keep him busy. When you get the chance, use this." She held up a small bottle of white powder. "This will knock him out. When he is asleep..." She ran her finger along her throat.

Mary recoiled in disgust. "I hate the Count but could not kill him."

"If we escape, he will find other victims, innocent women like you and I," replied Bridget. "You can stop him doing this again."

Mary shook her head. "I will go to his room and knock him out but I couldn't, no it is not possible."

Bridget said nothing for a few moments. "Think about it. We won't talk about it again."

Mary fretted all day about what Bridget had asked her to do. But she thought about what he had threatened to do to her if she did not talk. She tried to imagine what it would be like being roughly tied-up and stripped - her naked body at his mercy. She imagined the Count's cold lips kissing her, his hot breath on her soft cheek, his sweaty, perfumed hands squeezing her breasts and bottom, the sharp lash on her legs and bottom. She started having second thoughts about going to the Count's room. _But it is our only chance of escape,_ she thought. She thought about how she might distract the Count so she could put the sleeping powder in his drink. Then he would be at her mercy. She would decide whether to take his life when he was unconscious. She leaned back on her chair, a sly grin on her face.

"You must be brave," encouraged Bridget, "that beast will try to scare you, but we are so near to freedom."

Mary took her hands. "You must not fear. I know what is at stake – the honour of my country. I will not falter."

In a rush of emotion, Bridget kissed her on the lips.

That evening Corporal Reiner arrived to escort her. He was smiling and in a good mood. He had been drinking. "So Nurse Batten, at last the Count will get what he has longed for."

She ignored him.

"I have brought you the same clothes you wore before. The Count is in a merry mood. Get dressed quickly. I will be waiting outside."

Bridget helped her dress. All the time she was dressing, Bridget reminded her of the plan. "Now remember, don't do anything to upset the Count. Play him for as long as you can. Give him the sleeping powder at around midnight. The powder is strong and he will grow tired within a few minutes. You must be back here by one o'clock at the latest."

Mary was determined to do her best. When she was ready, Bridget said, "Now remember: when the Count is asleep, return here as fast as you can. I'll be waiting for you. We will only have a few hours of darkness before dawn."

She was nervous as Reiner escorted her to the lecherous Count. They arrived at the Count's door, and Reiner knocked. The Count called for her to enter.

He was standing in the middle of the room, smiling. "I'm glad you are here. You are my guest tonight. Come sit down, have some wine."

She accepted his offer of wine, and sat on the couch.

He looked drunk and grinned stupidly. He sat next to her, which made her feel uncomfortable. "You look very beautiful tonight, my dear," he slurred. He put his hand on her leg. "You look so much like my wife." Lunging forward, he kissed her on the lips.

She tried not to recoil in disgust. He took her hand and nodded towards the bedroom.

"Please, I would like to finish my wine and talk a little longer. I greatly admire you, Count, I have never met a man like you."

"Yes, it must be a little overwhelming for you. You will pardon me while I attend to something."

He walked unsteadily to the bathroom. As soon as he closed the bathroom door, she took the bottle of sleeping powder out of her pocket and tipped the contents into his wine. She stirred the powder in with her finger.

He returned and sat next to her. "I am exhausted, we must go to the bedroom now or I won't be able to fulfil my manly duties." He threw his head back and laughed like a horse as if he had said something funny.

"I propose a toast," she said, "to life and love."

He put his wine glass to his lips and took a sip. He tasted the wine, furrowed his brow, and took another sip. He slurred, "Here's to the victory of Germany over her enemies." Mary lifted her glass to her lips and swallowed the contents. When he had drunk the rest of his wine, he threw his arms around her, and kissed her.

"You won't regret this Nurse Batten; you will find me a powerful lover."

Mary tried not to cringe as he mauled her. He thrust his hand under her dress and fumbled around. "Oh yes," he drooled, "such firm breasts, like the Goddess Diana, oh my..." He grabbed her hand and placed it on his groin. She was disgusted, but gently rubbed him. "Oh yes...you have a firm hand," he said, closing his eyes. She wondered if he'd fallen asleep. His eyes sprang open and he looked around as if forgetting what he was doing. He stood up and pulled her to her feet.

He led her to the bedroom and guided her towards the large ornate bed. He closed the bedroom door and leant against it as if to prevent her escape.

She stood by the bed.

"Remove your dress," he said coldly.

She removed her dress as slowly as she could; hoping that the powder would kick in and he would collapse on the floor. But he showed no sign of falling asleep. The sight of her undressing sparked him up. When she had taken off her dress, he walked over and pushed her onto the bed.

He stood over her, licking his cracked lips. He took off his clothes until he was in his underwear, a pair of unflattering long johns. He lay on top of her, kissing her while tugging at her petticoat. His hand was fumbling about her groin. He gave up and told her to remove the rest of her clothes. She stood up and undressed as slowly as she could. He lay on the bed watching her greedily. She could not see signs that the powder was having any effect on him. He beckoned to her. She lay next to him and he rolled on top of her. He kissed her breasts and stomach. Then he stopped abruptly. She lay still hoping that he had fallen into a deep sleep. He did not move. She edged herself out from underneath him and slid towards the edge of the bed.

Just when she thought she was free, he reached out and grabbed her forearm. He lifted his head, tried to say something, smiled and fell back.

She prodded him with her foot to see if he was asleep. He didn't move. She dressed and stood looking down at his limp body lying helpless on the bed. She wanted to turn away, but she stayed as if rooted to the spot. She thought about what he had done to Bridget, and how he had threatened her. Her anger rose. She thought of all the helpless victims he had tortured and murdered, and all the young girls he had molested. She walked across to his desk. An envelope opener lay on top of some papers. Gripping the handle, she walked back to the bed. He looked so pathetic lying on the bed in his long johns, snoring; his ridiculous hairdo all messed up. She thought he looked like an enraged cockatoo.

He was no longer a person of fear – he was an old man asleep and defenceless.

"It would be easy to kill you, Count, but if I did, I would descend to your level," she whispered.

She walked back to the desk and put the envelope opener back. As she put it down, she noticed some official papers lying on the desk. She picked them up and looked through them. Although her German was poor, one document caught her attention. It had an official letterhead and the Count had signed it. The document had a list of French names. She took the document and hurried back to her room.

Bridget was waiting for her anxiously.

"Is it done?"

"The Count is asleep."

"Is he dead?"

"I could not do it."

"All right, we must move quickly. The guards were at the party, and they will be asleep. My agent is waiting for us on the road. We are nearly free, Mary!"

Just as she finished saying this, Reiner drunkenly burst into the room.

"What are you doing here, Nurse Batten, you should be with the Count. You've been a naughty girl. You must think me a fool. I know about your escape plan. I was listening at the door. I know you are meeting a French agent and he is taking you to the forest. The Count suspected you would try something like this."

He reached out to grab her. "You and Bridget are under arrest."

There was thud, and he collapsed to the floor. Bridget stood behind him with a heavy chamber pot in her hands.

They argued over what they should do with him. Mary wanted to tie him up, gag him and push him under the bed. By the time the other guards discovered him, they would be far away. They tied his hands and ankles as he regained consciousness.

He started moaning. Bridget gagged him. "If we leave him here alive, he'll raise the alarm."

"But what can we do?" asked Mary.

Bridget drew a dagger from her coat pocket.

"No, we can't kill him in cold blood."

"He knows we are meeting an agent. He will tell the Count and endanger the network."

He had regained consciousness and looked up at the two women. When he saw the knife, his eyes filled with fear. He looked up at Mary pleadingly. She turned away.

Bridget stepped forward with the knife in her hand. "You die for your country. I am prepared to die for mine. Long live France."

Mary shuddered as Bridget drew the knife quickly across his throat. She heard a gurgling sound but did not look. When she turned around, Bridget had pushed him under the bed, leaving a pool of blood on the floor.

"Mop up the blood," demanded Bridget. "Come, pull yourself together. We are both liable for execution if we are caught."

Mary got down on her hands and knees with a towel and wiped the floor clean. Then she threw the towel under the bed.

Bridget was already at the door. "Come on Mary, we must be gone."

"Wait, I just remembered, I picked this up from the Count's desk before I left," said Mary, handing over the paper.

Bridget looked it over. Her face lit up. She kissed her on the cheeks and the lips. "Mary! Do you realise what this is! Dear Lord – this document is a list of names of French traitors passing secrets to the Boche!" She leaned forward to kiss her.

Mary held up her hand. "Enough with the kissing, let's get out of here."

They entered the corridor and hurried down a passageway until they came to a window. They climbed out and jumped into the garden. They crossed the grassed area and walked quickly towards the road. Their contact met them and told them to follow him. An hour later, they arrived at the edge of a forest. He wished them luck and disappeared into the early morning mist. They hurried into the forest. Bridget stopped to get her bearings. She pulled out a map and held it up in the dim light. "This way...we must hurry." The forest was dark and forbidding, but the fear of capture propelled them on. They followed the narrow track winding through the forest. After nearly four hours of walking, they came to the outskirts of a deserted village. The sun was rising.

Bridget was cautious. She told Mary to stay hidden while she looked around.

"Please don't leave me. I'll come with you."

"No, I'm better alone."

Mary lay in the bushes. She waited and waited. At last, Bridget returned. "There is an abandoned village over the hill. We will hide today and travel by night. We'll blend in with the refugees. The Germans are moving the French population back towards Germany. They are retreating."

They crept into the village. Several houses were still standing. Bridget searched the houses, and found one with a cellar where they could hide and get some sleep. They scavenged for old clothes to keep them warm and settled down for the day.

All through the day, they heard the sound of artillery, and convoys speeding by. Occasionally, they heard the voices of German soldiers.

"We must be near the front," said Bridget. "I'm sure the village school where I taught is near here. In the evening, we'll get a better idea of where we are. The Germans have removed the name of this village so I can't be sure where we are. I'd kill for a cup of coffee."

"I'd believe that," replied Mary.

"We had no choice, Reiner had to die or he would have raised the alarm."

"I'm a nurse, my job is to save lives not end them."

"Anyway, you didn't kill Reiner, I did. You should be more worried about what the Count will do to us if he captures us."

Despite the distractions, they both drifted off to sleep.

Back at the chateau, an officer woke the Count. He told him that Bridget and Mary had escaped and that a guard had discovered Corporal Reiner's body stuffed under Mary's bed. Guards searched the grounds, but they had vanished. He helped the Count to his bathroom where he dunked his head in the basin to wake up. It was then that he realised he had been drugged. He could taste it in his mouth. He staggered out of the bathroom and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Everyone out of my room, I'll be down shortly."

When they had gone, he walked unsteadily to his desk. He searched among his papers. Clutching a handful of papers, he sat in the chair in shock. _She took the list...my God...a little nobody...she tricked me...that list could destroy our network...she will die a thousand deaths for this._

He dressed and ordered coffee and breakfast. While he was eating, he summoned his second in command and put him in charge while he was away. He finished breakfast, and went downstairs. An officer in charge of the search reported that the two women had been seen heading for the nearby forest.

The Count gathered his best soldiers and told them no matter how long it took; they would not stop until they captured the escapees. "The two escapees are very dangerous. Don't be fooled by the fact that they are women. You saw what they did to your comrade Carl. One of them is a French spy, and the other is an Australian spy disguised as a nurse. They have something that is very important to our victory over our enemies. Don't hesitate to shoot on sight. Wound them if you can and take them prisoner – they will wish they had been killed when I get my hands on them."

He sent a search party to pick up their trail.

Meanwhile, he conducted an internal investigation to determine if the escapees had inside help. When he discovered that a kitchen hand had disappeared at the same time as the escapees, he ordered her arrest. Arrested within an hour, she bravely refused to talk and died at the hands of the Count.

The search party returned to the chateau to report that they had picked up the escapees trail.

Around midday, the search party under the command of the Count set out to kill or capture Mary and Bridget.

Mary woke in fright in the dark cellar. She had had a terrible dream. She dreamt that she and Francis were married in Paris. After they were married, they went to their hotel near the Eiffel Tower. She told him to wait outside the room while she changed. She slipped into a nightie and lay seductively on the bed. "You can come in now." He entered the room full of youthful ardour. He removed his uniform, all the time complimenting her on how beautiful she looked. As he walked naked towards the bed she noticed a terrible bloody wound across his stomach.

He went deathly pale. "I forgot to tell you, I was badly wounded. I didn't want to spoil the night." His stomach splattered on the floor. "This puts a dampener on the evening," he said, as he slipped to the floor, dead.

Mary woke up screaming. She looked around for Bridget. Standing up in the dank cellar, she strained her eyes in the dark. Feeling her way, she called out to Bridget. She was becoming worried. Walking to the bottom of the stairs, she debated going to the top and looking for her. _Don't be a fool,_ _girl_ , she thought. _The Germans will catch you. You can't speak French. Stay where you are._ She heard footsteps on the floor above, and crawled into a dark corner of the cellar.

"Mary, are you there?" called Bridget.

Mary rushed out of her hiding place. "Bridget, I thought you'd abandoned me."

"You have little faith in me," said Bridget, offended. "Come to me, Mary." She embraced her. "I would not leave you in the hands of the Germans."

"I'm sorry I doubted you," said Mary. "I had a terrible dream. I had a dream that Francis and I were married in Paris, but on our wedding night, he died of wounds."

"So you want to marry this Francis, do you?" asked Bridget.

Mary looked at her in surprise. "Yes, we agreed that when the war is over, we will marry, why do you ask?"

"I wonder whether he is suitable for you."

This comment stopped Mary in her tracks. It seemed an unusual thing to say.

"Anyway, we must hurry," said Bridget, changing the subject. "I went out scouting earlier. We must keep moving south. We are in grave danger. I made contact with the network; the Count is on our trail. He is near."

Mary had forgotten about the Count. The mention of his name sent a chill down her spine.

"We will eat as we walk, we must hurry."

They headed down a long, winding road through the forest. Bridget stopped and put her finger to her lips. Mary couldn't hear anything. She cocked her ear. In the distance, she heard dogs barking. They looked at each other, and hurried on. A few minutes later, they hid in the bushes when they heard a horse and cart rumbling along the dirt road. Bridget peeked through the bushes and saw an old French peasant driving a cart. She hailed him and asked if they could get a lift. He agreed and invited them into the back of the cart. When they were aboard, he hid them under a mountain of hay.

"This should put the dogs off our scent," said Bridget.

They drove along the dusty, back roads of the French countryside.

Near the front, he dropped them off in a forest. Bridget knew the country well. She had lived in a village nearby.

She checked her map. "From here on, we are entering the area behind the German front. We must be careful."

In the woods behind the front, living in dugouts and smashed farmhouses, was a ghostly army of French peasants, German deserters, escaped prisoners, and renegades. Following a series of military reverses, some German soldiers had lost heart in the fight. Travelling by night and hiding by day, this silent army preferred the dangers of no-man's-land to the trenches. Occasionally, the authorities sent in soldiers to arrest them. But these desperate men had become adept at avoiding capture. They sensed when soldiers were hunting for them and melted into the forests.

Bridget and Mary stopped for the night in a ruined village. Villagers and refugees were living among the ruins. Dazed German troops wandered around, covered in mud and blood, and looked like they had recently fought in a battle. They barely noticed Bridget and Mary with their dirty faces and ragged clothes. The two women blended into the drifting population.

Not far behind them, the Count was hot on their trail. He had not stopped since they picked had up their trail near his headquarters. He could feel them in his hands. _Mary will beg for mercy_ , he said to himself, _but she will get none from me_. _And that French bitch will wish she had never been born. I will devise terrible tortures for them._

"Sir, the dogs picked up the trail on that dirt road down there," said an officer, "but we lost it."

The Count hurried down to the road. Pointing at the cart tracks, he said, "Either they have continued by cart, or they are around here somewhere. This could be a trick. Search the area."

They searched the area. "They must have got a ride with a farmer," said the Count. "They cannot be far from here. We almost have them."

The search party dashed off following the cart tracks.

Bridget and Mary managed to get some sleep, curled up in a barn. They were unaware that the Count was only a few hours behind them. If they had known, they would have risked moving during the day to get away from him.

Mary was nearly at the end of her strength. Her whole body ached and she could barely lift her legs.

"Bridget, I don't know how much longer I can go on, I'm so tired."

Bridget yawned and winced with pain when she moved her legs. "Wait...what's that noise."

They could hear dogs barking and the shouts of German soldiers. Bridget crawled to the barn window and peered out. From here, she looked down into the village. There were German soldiers searching the ruined houses. They were herding French civilians and others out of the cellars and lining them up.

They picked themselves up and staggered on. The fear of falling into the Count's hands drove their exhausted bodies on. They slipped into the forest, and arrived at a river where they stopped to drink and throw water on their faces. Bridget suggested they walk in the water to put the dogs off.

All through the night they walked, stopping briefly to rest. They heard the dreadful yelp of the dogs carried on the wind.

As light broke, they arrived in the village where Bridget expected to make contact with the intelligence network. The village was in chaos. There were German troops advancing south of the village, and others retreating north. They entered the main street, clogged with horse-drawn wagons, ambulances, trucks and refugees wandering in confusion. Bridget and Mary slipped into the crowd and wandered down the main street, before turning into a narrow laneway. They turned into a back street lined with ruined houses. Bridget told Mary to wait while she spoke to her contact. Mary sat down on a low wall resting. Bridget rejoined her a few minutes later, and guided her to the back of a ramshackle house.

An old man was standing in the doorway. He beckoned to them to come in. He held the door open for them and told them to sit on a couch while he went to the kitchen to get them something to eat. Bridget explained that the man worked for French intelligence and that he would hide them.

"The Germans were retreating to the Hindenburg Line, all we have to do, my dear Mary, is hide here until the Allies arrive," she said.

The old man gave them a bowl of stew and a bottle of red wine. The warm food and wine revived them. When they finished eating, he directed them to a concealed cellar and handed them a candle. They climbed down the rickety staircase into the dark, dank cellar. They could hear low voices. Mary stood at the bottom of the ladder and held up the candle. She could see dark shapes slumped against the cellar walls. Another candle was burning faintly on a small table.

"Gidday young lady," said a voice. He stood up and stepped forward.

"Are you an Aussie?" asked Mary in disbelief.

"Too right, love. Fred's me name. The Germans took me prisoner a few weeks back, but I escaped and I've been living rough for weeks now. You're a sight for sore eyes, what's an Aussie girl doing in this place?"

Mary sat down and told him her story. Fred then introduced the others – two British soldiers, a French soldier and a couple of civilians who spied for the French and wanted to avoid the Germans. There were also three German deserters.

Despite their desperate situation behind German lines, they kept up their spirits, especially Fred with his laconic sense of humour and frequent puns at the expense of the Poms. He told her that during the day they stayed in the cellar and slept. "At night we go hunting for food."

Fred strung up a blanket in the corner of the cellar to give them some privacy. When they had settled in, Bridget told her to stay in the cellar while she spoke to the intelligence network and decide what they should do next.

Mary fell asleep and when she woke up, she did not know whether it was day or night. Although they were deep underground, the sounds of war shook the cellar. Once a day, the old man passed food and wine down to them, which they shared out. At night, some of the cellar-dwellers went out to collect food. Sometimes they came back; other times only some came back to report the Germans had captured the others. Mary was becoming desperate in the closed off subterranean world. She did her best to look after the medical needs of her fellow inmates, but sickness due to lack of food was rife. One of the German deserters died.

When Bridget returned after three days of absence, she was smiling. "The Germans are retreating, and the Allies are advancing. But we are not in the clear yet. The Count is near searching for us."

One day Mary awoke to silence. The other cellar-dwellers were standing up listening and speculating what this might mean. The trapdoor opened and the old man told them to come up.

She and Bridget were very weak from lack of food. Mary sat up and looked around. She nudged Bridget. Bridget tried to sit up, but did not have the strength.

The old man shouted into the cellar, "Germans all gone... the British and Australians are here!"

Using the cellar wall to support herself, Mary stood up. However, the effort exhausted her, and she sat down again. She stroked Bridget's face. "Did you hear? We are saved. Thank God!"

Bridget had tears in her eyes. She took Mary's hand, kissed it, and held it against her face.

Mary heard voices upstairs. She watched two medics walk down the ladder.

"Gidday miss, the bloke upstairs reckons you're an Aussie, is that right?" asked one of the medics.

Tears welled into her eyes. "Too right, sport," she replied, smiling weakly.

"Don't worry miss, we'll have you good as new in no time," said the other medic.

She would have thrown her arms around her saviours if she had not fainted from hunger. She regained consciousness in the back of an ambulance on the way to a first aid station. There, she and Bridget parted; Bridget went to a civilian hospital, while Mary went to an Australian military hospital.

In hospital, Mary quickly recovered from her ordeal. She insisted she was well enough to return to work. While she waited for the authorities to reassign her, she wrote to her parents and Francis about her adventures. She returned to work a week later, reunited with her astonished work colleagues.

She heard later that the Count was in a village looking for her and Bridget when British and Australian troops arrived. He was so obsessed with capturing them that he refused to listen to advice to flee the approaching troops. By the time he arrived at the village where Mary and Bridget had been hiding, Australian troops had already captured the village and driven the German stragglers out.

The Count woke up one morning to find he and his men surrounded. He refused to surrender and said he would fight to the death. The Australian troops obliged him. They shot and bombed the farmhouse and burnt it down. The Count perished in the flames, shaking his fist and cursing Mary and Bridget.

Several weeks later, Mary received a letter from Francis telling her he was in the infantry and 'somewhere in France.' He hoped to see her soon.

### Chapter 18

In late 1917, Milne's battalion left the village that had been their home for several months, and marched to a small village near the town of Amiens. Billeted in an old farmhouse, they spent Christmas in a dry, warm barn.

The horror of what they had been through had left them staring into space like lost souls. New recruits, fresh from Australia, stared in wonder at the sight of these men who had seen so much.

They knew their rest would end soon and their generals would call them back to battle. For the moment, they lived every second of every minute as if it was their last. After recuperating for several weeks, the battalion moved into a relatively quiet sector. For the next three months, they rotated between the front and a village in the rear.

One evening, they had gone to bed early as usual. Milne was in deep sleep when a roaring sound woke him. The others in his billet were stirring.

"Can't a bloke get a bit of kip around here!" shouted Lawson.

Marcus walked over to the open window and looked to the north. "You blokes should see this."

Milne, yawning and scratching himself, walked over and stood next to him. Lawson came up beside them. All three stared in wonder at the scene before them. The entire horizon, as far as the eye could see, was one long, leaping sheet of flame, punctuated by brilliant flashes. The noise of thousands of artillery shells screaming towards them grew louder and louder. What they were watching was the German High Command's last throw of the dice – it had staked everything on a final offensive. Germany threw in all its reserves in a desperate attempt to starve off the defeat it knew was coming since America joined the Allies. Fresh American troops were arriving every day, tipping the balance towards the Allies. The Germans knew that it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. They hoped to grab the channel ports and split the British and French armies in two. After the massive artillery bombardment, German troops, reinforced by troops released from the Russian Front, smashed into Allied lines.

Milne and his unit scrambled into the courtyard. An officer told them to stand ready. They formed up and waited. Later in the morning, their officers told them to stand down. They returned to their billets. No one seemed to know what was going on. All morning the rumour mill was working overtime. The days went by.

The great 1918 German offensive faltered in a series of desperate battles. Germany had nothing more to give. The offensive ran out of steam and fell apart under strong Allied counter-attacks.

A few days later, officers ordered Milne's battalion to the parade ground where a general addressed them. He talked about the final push. He told them that Germany had played its last card. Now the Allies would march all the way to Berlin. Milne listened, but he had heard this speech before. He stared at the sky, because he didn't want to think about going back into battle. The speech ended and they marched towards Germany, as part of the general Allied advance.

Lawson was in a sour mood. He enjoyed life behind the lines - long days lying by the nearby river, drinking red wine, and dalliances with local girls. He had even managed to acquire a French girlfriend, a source of great merriment to the others.

"Bloody war," he said morosely. "Why don't Fritz just give it up? He knows he's beat. He can see the Yanks marching over the horizon. What do you reckon, Professor?"

Marcus was absorbed in thought. "Look at the red flowers," he said in a dream-like voice. "As far as the eye can see, red flowers, carpets of them."

Their ammunition belts, rifles and helmets clanked together as they marched. Sometimes they burst into song, but mostly they silently watched the countryside go by.

"The ancient Romans marched this way," added Marcus, "to conquer Germania."

They marched towards the town of Villers-Bretonneux, which the Germans had captured during their offensive. Milne's unit played a secondary role in the battle in which British and Australian troops drove the Germans out of the town. They entered the ruined town after the main battle had been fought and took up positions to prevent the Germans retaking it. They waited grimly for an attack, but the Germans abandoned the town. Milne's unit retired to the rear to rest.

The German army retreated behind the Hindenburg Line. At strategic locations, they left behind troops to slow the Allied advance.

After resting behind the front for several weeks, Milne and Lawson once again found themselves moving towards the firing line. Their battalion took part in a vast offensive, involving French, American, Canadian, Australian and British troops, known as the Battle of Amiens. Throughout the exhausted, depleted Allied armies, the word went along the line that the Germans were done.

The offensive opened with a deafening artillery barrage, which destroyed most of the enemy artillery and rear fortifications. Milne led his unit into the thick smoke. The artillery had swept away the enemies defences. Large numbers of surviving German soldiers surrendered. As they trudged on, the Germans retreated, abandoning strong points and French villages, which they had captured during their offensive. Milne's unit came to a crossroad. Trucks, ambulances, prisoners, marching troops, tanks, and horse-drawn artillery clogged the road. They marched parallel to the road. In the distance, they could see Amiens.

Milne and Lawson were there. As they had been from the beginning. Among the recruits they had trained, Eric, the wagon driver was dead, and David, the gravedigger, severely wounded. The other recruits, Wal and Peter had survived, as had Marcus and Mad Tom. They could smell victory. The Germans were in retreat. Now every soldier seemed to feel that old Fritz had had it.

"This is more like it, eh, acting sergeant," said Lawson, tongue in cheek.

"I told you I don't stand on ceremony," replied Milne. "Just call me Francis."

"Yes Sir Francis, or is it St Francis?"

"Knock it off."

Sprawled in the dirt, Milne watched as lines of German prisoners with gaunt sunburnt faces, trudged by. Their eyes betrayed their relief that for them the fighting was over and they had survived. Some smiled gently as they looked into his eyes. Some frowned, some grimaced, and some looked lost, disappointed, happy, relieved, and sad. They still wore their dented steel helmets as if stuck on their heads permanently. Those desperate faces pleading for understanding as if to say – 'I did the best I could, I did my duty, should I have died for my country?'

When the column of prisoners had gone by, Milne signalled for his unit to get up and keep moving north chasing the remnants of the German army. It was exhilarating. After years of static warfare, they were on the move.

Reduced to a handful of desperate men, covered in dirt, blood and grime, they marched on. They seldom spoke now, conserving the little energy they had left. On the third day of the advance, they rested in an abandoned German trench. The smokers pulled out their tobacco pouches and rolled uneven cigarettes. Lawson found a German newspaper at the bottom of the trench and read in a loud comical German accent as he puffed on his cigarette. Marcus sat on top of the trench scanning the horizon. A shot rang out, and a shell screamed through the air. He slid off the edge, deeper into the trench. When it was safe, he peered over the top, and reoccupied his seat. His weary eyes followed the columns of troops, trucks and tanks, streaming north towards the Hindenburg Line.

After resting, they moved out. Late in the afternoon, they came to a plain, criss-crossed by trenches and artillery pits. Heavy shelling had torn up the earth. Other units from their battalion were setting up camp. Milne found a dugout and they settled down for the night. There were signs that the Germans had abandoned the area in a hurry – there were bits and pieces of uniform, helmets, ammunition, empty tins of food, and diaries and letters strewn around the dugout and trench. The former occupants had scratched their initials into the wooden support beams in the dugout. The dugout was roomy and they were able to stretch out in relative comfort.

Mad Tom found a basin and bucket of water and washed himself in the middle of the dugout. Lawson opened a can of beef and chewed thoughtfully. "It's been a long road from Rabaul to here, but it will be over soon."

No one replied. They were wrapped up in their own thoughts. Lawson fell silent. His face showed his exhaustion. He smoked incessantly, and ate little. One by one, they slipped off to sleep for the few hours they would get before their colleagues woke them for sentry duty. Milne slept on and off for a few minutes at a time. The slightest noise woke him, despite his utter exhaustion. Whenever he woke, he saw Lawson in the dim light, staring into space, smoking.

As the sun came up, they automatically packed up their gear, Lewis guns and rifles. They were on the road early. The sun was still rising as they marched down a long, dusty road.

"These bloody lice are driving me fucking mad," said Lawson. He was vigorously scratching his groin. They came to a ruined farmhouse, and searched through the rubble. He found a battered suitcase in the rubble and opened it – it was full of women's underwear and clothes. "This will do me." He dropped his trousers and tore off his lice infested filthy underwear, and selected a pair of frilly pantaloons.

The sight of him posing in knickers, his thin, white legs exposed in the sunlight had them in fits of laughter. They had seen their mates blown to pieces in front of their eyes, they had seen boys and men die horrific deaths from gas – but no one could remain serious at the sight of Lawson cavorting around in French knickers. They rolled around in the rubble laughing so much their stomachs hurt. They could no longer cry for the dead, but they had tears rolling down their dirty faces. Lawson did the French Can Can and each time he bent over, he exposed his bum. When they stopped laughing, they emptied the suitcase of underwear on the ground and tore off their filthy underwear.

A rifle shot rang out. A bullet slammed into the only remaining farmhouse wall. They hit the dirt and lay still. Milne signalled them to stay still while he crawled forward to see where the shot had come from. He carefully scanned the nearby buildings, and determined the shot had come from the loft of a barn on their left. He looked back at Lawson and silently drew his finger across his throat. Lawson nodded and crawled towards a rock surrounded by bushes at the back of the barn. He got into position and signalled that he had the barn covered.

Milne and Mad Tom crawled to a low brick wall near the side of the barn. Mad Tom positioned himself behind the wall and poked his rifle through a gap between the bricks.

The sniper held his fire.

Milne ordered them to put a couple of rounds into the barn to see what the sniper would do. They peppered the barn with bullets. The sniper fired back wildly in their general direction, but well wide of the mark.

"Looks like we have a couple of amateurs," Milne muttered under his breath. He pointed to the loft where one of the shots had come from and to the back of the barn where the other shot had come from.

Lawson crawled forward to the back of the barn. He froze when he heard someone moving around inside. He desperately looked around for cover. He ran, crouched over, to a horse trough, and rested the barrel of his gun on it.

As he waited, he heard two rifle shots, which he assumed was the sniper firing back at Milne.

Through the gaps in the barn wall, he saw a figure creeping down the ladder from the hayloft. He tightened his finger around the trigger, his guts tied in a knot, sweat trickling down his face. He strained his eyes and could clearly see a German soldier at the bottom of the ladder. The soldier called up to the other soldier. Lawson assumed he was encouraging him to move positions.

He carefully aimed and pulled the trigger. The bullet went through the thin timber and hit the soldier, who let out a terrible cry and fell on the ground.

At that split second, Milne appeared on his right. Lawson indicated that there were two enemy soldiers. He had shot one, and the other was in the hayloft. With a tremendous leap, Milne joined him at the back of the barn. He peered into the barn and saw the wounded German laying on the ground.

"Where's the other one?" he whispered.

"He's still up in the hayloft, I think he's wounded. But don't trust him."

Milne signalled to Mad Tom and the others, who had remained behind the wall, to fire into the barn at his command. When he and Lawson were ready, they all fired at once. The bullets sent a shower of splinters into the air.

A lone voice called out in broken English, "I surrender, please don't shoot."

"Throw your rifle down or we'll shoot," shouted Lawson.

They heard a ruffling sound and a lot of groaning. "Please I am wounded. I will not shoot. I surrender."

"Pull yourself over to the ladder and put your hands up," shouted Lawson. He added, "Raus! schnell!" Which were the only German words he knew.

Their bullets had blown large holes in the barn wall so they were able to get a good view of the upper level. However, this also meant that the sniper could see them. Milne said they should fall back to the horse trough. Once they were in position, they carefully aimed their guns on the ladder.

Meanwhile, the German lying on the ground started moving. He was moaning and muttering. Lawson shouted to him to stay still or he would shoot him.

The wounded German in the loft had managed to drag himself to the top of the ladder. He had pulled his rifle with him. He pulled it to the edge and let it fall down the ladder. The butt hit one of the steps, bounced forward and landed on the head of the wounded soldier at the bottom of the ladder. He groaned, but lay still.

"That must 'ave hurt," said Lawson, smiling.

The sniper at the top of the ladder held up his hands with great difficulty. He called out that he was not armed.

Lawson and Milne cautiously moved forward to the barn door and pushed it open. Lawson covered Milne while he crawled forward and poked his head in. The only thing going through his mind was that he didn't want to be killed or wounded when the war was nearly over.

He dashed into the barn pointing his rifle up at the loft, and ordered the wounded man to climb down the ladder.

He replied that he could not climb down because of his leg wound. Milne told him to stay where he was. He slowly climbed the ladder, keeping his rifle trained on the sniper. "Don't move, or you're a dead man," as he got closer he added, "dead kid to be more accurate, he's just a bloody kid. I thought I was young, this is a boy."

He climbed into the loft and looked around. There were no other enemy soldiers. The wounded boy had taken off his helmet. He had soft blond hair and a baby, tear-stained face. He had a wound in his right leg, and there were pools of blood in the straw. Milne could see that a bullet had severed the artery in his leg. The wounded boy was deathly pale. He lifted him over his shoulder and carried him down the ladder. He laid him carefully on the dirt floor and propped his head up with a blanket and straw.

Lawson joined him. He nudged the older man lying at the bottom of the ladder. He groaned, opened his eyes, and looked imploringly at him.

"This is a right pair," said Lawson. "This bloke here," he said, pushing the older wounded soldier with his boot, "must be a bloody hundred or more. Look, he doesn't 'ave any teeth. This other one must be his bloody grandson. The Germans are runnin' out of soldiers."

"The young chap is in a bad way," said Milne. "He's lost a lot of blood." He knelt down beside the boy and gave him a sip of water. The boy, who up to then had a look of terror in his eyes, wondering what these soldiers were going to do to him, looked relieved. He thanked Milne for helping him and asked that he look to the older man.

"We can't do much for 'em, we'll have to leave 'em here," said Lawson. "These poor buggers have had it."

"And how would you expect to be treated if it was you laying in the dirt with a bullet in you?"

"Don't give me that old one. These blokes tried to kill us. This could be us lying in the dirt."

"They're still human beings. I'll do what I can for them."

Lawson shrugged and looked down at the older man. He gave him a nudge with his boot. He bent down and felt for a pulse. "This one's dead. One down, one to go."

Milne gave him a hard look and turned back to the boy soldier.

The rest of the unit came up and formed a semi-circle around Milne and Lawson.

"Bloody snipers everywhere," said Mad Tom, puffing on his cigarette. "Serves 'em right."

"Snipers should be shot out of hand," said Wal, trying to sound tough. But when he saw how young he was, he gasped. "He looks like he just got out of nappies. He can't be more than twelve."

Milne patched him up as best he could. Out of curiosity, he asked him how he had ended up here. The boy explained that he was a country lad and good with a rifle. He had volunteered and trained briefly as a sniper. He said the old man was his assistant. However, he said the old man could barely see and had been useless. He apologised for shooting at them.

Milne stood up. "I've done all I can for you. You wait here and a stretcher-bearer should be along soon. You'll be right, mate."

The boy looked up at Milne with tears in his eyes. He lifted his hand as if begging him not to leave him alone. Milne turned away and started walking. When he looked back, he saw Lawson giving the boy an opened tin of beef and some bread. Wal poured out a cup of water for him. Milne smiled to himself at this little show of humanity, in the midst of a gruesome and brutal war.

A messenger on a motorbike rode up to Milne and told him there was a group of surrounded Germans up ahead refusing to surrender. They moved along the shell-torn road. On either side of the road were ruined buildings, burnt farms and dead cattle. In the distance, they heard gunfire. Milne instinctively crouched over. Lawson sauntered along as if he was out on a Sunday walk. Milne told them they should join the other soldiers who were surrounding the Germans. As they approached, they jumped into a communication trench. A soldier walking back the other way with blood flowing from a head wound said, "Just up ahead, boys, Fritz won't surrender. The bastards shot me when I called on them to give up."

They followed the trench to a long ditch, which formed a circle around a ruined farmhouse. Milne learnt that a group of diehards were entrenched and refusing to surrender. They had picked a perfect location to defend. The farmhouse sat on a small hill and commanded the roads to the left and right. The Germans had at least two machine guns, two snipers and more than twenty infantry. They could easily pick off anyone trying to hurl bombs into their positions.

"Right men, we don't want any unnecessary casualties," said an officer. "We're waiting for reinforcements and then we're going to blow the bastards up."

Half an hour later, thirty soldiers surrounded the farmhouse. When all was ready, they opened up with everything they had. The Germans fought back ferociously. After ten minutes of firing, an officer called on the survivors to surrender. They shouted back that they could all go to hell, and sang their national anthem.

Milne and Lawson collected some bombs together. They crawled forward and hurled the bombs into the enemy positions. There were two muffled explosions, followed by the screams of the wounded. For good measure, Milne ordered everyone to open up again. Machine gun and rifle bullets swept the ruined farmhouse.

This time there was no reply. Milne waited a few more minutes and sent a couple of soldiers forward to check. They gave the all clear. It was getting dark by the time they walked cautiously into the farmhouse. There were mangled bodies strewn along the ground and the trenches. However, there was some good news; although the farmhouse was ruined, the cellar was intact, and filled with bottles of wine. Milne told his men they could camp there for the night, but he expected them to be ready for duty the next day. They all dutifully saluted and rubbed their hands together.

The first task was to remove the bodies. They set about this grisly task. There was only one survivor. He raved for an hour before dying. They stripped the corpses of souvenirs, guns and ammunition, dragged them out of the ruins by the heels, and threw them in a ditch.

"Hey, this bloke's head has been blown off," said Wal.

He dragged the headless corpse to the ditch. Returning from dumping the corpse, he found the missing head in a trench. He kicked it along the ground like a football to the cheers of some, and derision of others.

Once they had cleared the bodies out, they set up lookouts, and placed the machine guns to cover all entrances to their position.

A messenger told them that a field kitchen had been set up a little way back. They settled in for the night. After a belly full of beef stew with potatoes, bread and tea, they thought life was good. The rum ration was distributed.

Milne recognised one of the soldiers from the New Guinea campaign.

"Yeah, I was there mate. I landed with Colonel Watson at Kabakaul and marched on Toma. Seems like a million years ago now. I remember you and your mate. Not many from the New Guinea campaign left now. Most of 'em were killed or wounded at Gallipoli. The survivors went on to Pozieres. Did you hear what happened to Colonel Watson? A German shell exploded in his headquarters and turned his staff into mincemeat. Me and a couple of others rushed into the dugout. What a mess. Bodies, arms, legs, guts spread all over the place. And in the middle of it all, Watson is sitting up alive. He was the only survivor. I don't think he ever recovered, and the army sent him home. That was a shame about Holmes getting it in the neck."

"Yes, I was there when they brought him in."

"Fair dinkum, that must have been a sight. He was a good bloke."

The wine on top of the stew made them all feel better. Some fell asleep. Despite his exhaustion, Milne could not sleep. Lawson was happy to stay awake to drink as much wine as he could.

The next day, the advance continued. They picked themselves up wearily, formed an orderly queue at the field kitchen for breakfast, ate as much as they could, and set off deeper into northern France towards the Hindenburg Line.

They entered a village with a large French population. The civilians came out in numbers to welcome their liberators.

At midday, they turned east. There was a chill in the air. Autumn was approaching on the windswept broken fields. The bulk of the platoon arrived in front of a small village. A large group of Germans were holding the village and refusing to surrender. The Australians had spread out in ditches and trenches in front of the village and were exchanging fire with the enemy.

A knot of officers had gathered in the trench where Milne and Lawson had sought sanctuary. Milne could hear them talking. They were debating whether to try once more to convince the Germans to surrender or to shell the village. After a heated discussion, they compromised.

Milne looked along the trench. The troops were relaxing. Some were writing letters or filling gaps in diaries. Others were staring intently at the village, dragging on cigarettes, chewing food if they had some, or illicitly swigging on a bottle of rum or wine when the officers weren't looking.

Lawson was sitting with his back resting on the wall of the trench. His helmet had fallen down over one eye. His uniform was filthy. He had a far away look in his eyes. After a few moments, he closed his eyes and said, "Wake me if anything 'appens."

He did not have to wait long. Minutes later, shells crashed into the village, sending bricks and bodies into the air. The shelling lasted ten minutes and then all was silent again.

Lawson opened his eyes and pushed his helmet as far up his head as the strap would permit.

An officer called on the Germans to surrender. There was no response. Silence. Milne watched as three Australian soldiers walked cautiously towards the village. One of them held up a white flag and waved it. A flurry of shots rang out. They scrambled back to the Australian trenches. A stray bullet wounded one of the peacemakers.

They fired back with everything they had. Some soldiers shouted out that they would kill every enemy soldier they found. The shelling resumed. The Germans had a trench mortar and fired shells into the Australian trenches. The artillery scored a direct hit on the mortar position. When the shelling stopped, they launched a general assault. Every soldier demanded to take part in the attack to revenge themselves on the enemy.

Milne leapt out of the trench with the others and attacked.

A few shots rang out from the village. A soldier in front of him clutched his stomach and fell to the ground. They burst into the village, and shot down the few Germans who continued to resist. The fighting was chaotic. Sometimes one or two enemy soldiers in a position of five or six wanted to fight on, while the others wanted to surrender. Some stood up with their hands up, while others in the same trench opened fire on them.

Gradually, they occupied the village and rounded up the prisoners, mainly wounded men.

Milne looked around and realised Lawson had not taken part in the attack. He walked back through the village, but could not see him. He checked the wounded and dead but he was not amongst them. He looked back towards the trenches, and saw a head sticking over the trench line. He shook his head in disbelief. "He's bloody fallen asleep." He walked over to him. As he approached, he saw that he was bleeding from a terrible face wound. A mortar shell fragment had struck one side of his face. Milne jumped into the trench and bandaged him up to stop the bleeding. Lawson opened his remaining eye.

"Ouch, I didn't see that coming."

"You'll be right mate, superficial wounds mainly."

"What about my face, it's all mangled. I'll be ugly."

"You mean uglier."

"Don't leave me," he said, grabbing Milne by the sleeve.

"I'm not going anywhere."

He called out to a stretcher-bearing party. They came over, and he watched as they carried his friend to a nearby first aid post. He rejoined his unit and did not look back.

The march to the Hindenburg Line continued. They crashed over the Line and took Bellicourt and Montbrehain.

A week later, a shell landed near Milne, and threw him into the air. He lay on the earth. The earth seemed to draw him in. He smelt burning. His clothes were on fire. He felt a strange tugging sensation. He drifted off. When he woke up, he was in an ambulance. Then he fell into a deep sleep.

When he regained consciousness, he was lying in a hospital bed. He looked down at his arms and legs and was pleased to see his limbs were all there.

A few days later, news arrived that Germany had asked for an armistice. Men swathed in bandages, some missing limbs, others in plaster, cheered, sang and danced. He sat up and watched as the wounded joined in a macabre caper around the ward. He was suffering from shell shock and a temporary loss of hearing.

He was even more pleased to receive a visit from Mary who was working in another ward in the hospital. Seeing her alive and well was overwhelming. When Mary told him the news of the surrender, he wept and laughed at the same time. They hugged and wept. "At last, we will be married," he said. She did not say anything.

He looked at her not sure what to make of her attitude. Over the next week, he saw her a few times. When he asked her if anything was wrong, she shook her head. He asked her why she had not said anything when he proposed marriage.

"I've been through so much," she replied, "I cannot think of marriage." She walked off.

A week later, he was sitting up in bed, when a bizarre figure swathed in bandages walked towards him. Only with difficulty did he discover that it was Lawson. He had survived the carnage against all odds. The two friends embraced, and even Lawson had a tear in his remaining eye, which he quickly brushed away.

### Chapter 19

It took Milne six months to recover from his wounds in a hospital in England. Although he had suffered serious wounds, the doctors expected him to make a full recovery.

While he was recovering, Marcus and Mad Tom visited him. They had been demobilised and were returning to Australia.

"What about you, Francis, when are you heading home?" asked Marcus.

He said he had some unfinished business to attend to when he recovered.

"Would that be anything to do with a woman, more specifically, Nurse Mary Batten?" asked Marcus.

He smiled. "Yeah, something like that."

They promised to look each other up when they were all back in Australia.

When the doctor discharged him from hospital, he decided to remain in England hoping to rekindle his romance with Mary. He found employment at a nearby army base helping to demobilise thousands of Australian troops, and sending them home.

He dropped in to visit his old mate, who was still recovering from his wounds in a convalescent hospital. Lawson was sitting up in bed in a highly excited state. In his hand, he clutched a letter marked 'Private Cliff Lawson, AIF, Somewhere in France.'

"It's from Freda. She's being deported from Australia along with all the other Germans citizens interned. And I have a son."

"You a father!"

"Yes me. Apparently, after the police arrested her, she discovered she was pregnant. They went easy on her when she told them she was pregnant to an Australian soldier. Our son was born in Australia. That makes him an Aussie. She's fighting deportation and has asked me to write to the government to help her."

"You've got good grounds. The wife and son of a decorated war hero deported. No way. I'll write the letter, I have access to typists at the army base. We'll fight this."

Lawson was still trying to comprehend his unexpected status as a father. He kept repeating, "Me a father, who would have guessed it. Will Freda still want me? I'm all broken up. Look at me face. Christ! I'm a monster! How could she love an ugly dog like me?"

Milne left him pondering this question. He headed for the hospital where Mary worked, intending to meet her when her shift ended. He arrived just in time to see her coming out the front entrance. He was about to call out to her when he noticed her meeting a young woman. They hugged and kissed affectionately. He did not know whether he should interrupt. He hesitated for a few minutes and then followed them down the street. He caught up and called out to her.

Mary was engrossed in conversation and did not hear him at first. He called out more loudly. She turned around, and seemed surprised to see him.

"Francis, sorry I'm exhausted. I have just done a double shift. This is Bridget, the French woman I told you about."

Bridget gave him a haughty look, and nodded without smiling. She put her hand on Mary's arm protectively.

He cleared his throat. "Mary has told me all about your adventures behind German lines."

"Yes... very difficult days..." she replied, her dark eyes flashing. "We became very close during those times, did we not Mary?"

Mary nodded wearily. Bridget looked at Mary. They smiled.

Milne swallowed. "I have to get back to the base. I haven't seen you for a while. I thought we might go out for a walk or dinner."

"I can't think about this at the moment," she replied. "Bridget has just arrived in London, and we want to spend as much time together as possible."

"Surely you have time to see me, Mary," he pleaded. "It has been a long time since we sat down and talked. Have I said or done something, for you treat me so badly?"

Mary replied that this was not the time or place to discuss their personal lives.

"Well, where are we to discuss our future?" he said angrily. "I've asked you out several times, and you find some excuse not to go."

"Perhaps you are not listening to Mary," said Bridget. "She does not wish to see you."

"This is none of your business," he shouted.

People walking down the street stopped and looked around.

Mary looked embarrassed. She took him by the arm and guided him to a café. They sat down in a quiet corner of the empty café.

"Francis, I'm needed here at the hospital. There are still thousands of wounded here in need of care. If I were to marry you, I would have to give up nursing, and I can't and won't do that. My place is here, helping the wounded."

"I've been through a lot, Mary," he begged. "You can't solve the problems of the world on your own. Let's forget the war and get on with our lives. Do you remember what we used to talk about? The little cottage surrounded by gums and wattles, children running around underfoot."

Mary shook her head. "I'm not prepared to discuss it anymore. I've told you I need time. I'm not ready yet."

"When will you be ready?"

Mary smiled and put her hand on his arm. "I'll write to you soon. I have to go. Come along, Bridget."

And with that, she and Bridget left him sitting in the café on his own.

As he made his way to his base, he tried to unravel what this meant. He decided her behaviour was the result of her experiences as a captive of the wicked Count, her harrowing experiences during her escape, and going straight back to nursing. She was also working long hours at the hospital to deal with the victims of the influenza epidemic. But there was something more and it seemed to him to have something to do with Bridget. He did not understand what it was. Perhaps Bridget did not like him and was turning Mary against him. They had obviously drawn together because of their shared experiences. There was no doubt that they were very close. When Bridget was with Mary, he felt like an intruder. There was an indefinable bond between them.

Over the following weeks, he tried to keep in contact with Mary, but she was either at work or out with Bridget. He saw Mary walking to work one day and spoke to her briefly. He talked about marriage again but she had put him off saying she was not ready. He did not understand what this meant. He assumed she needed more time. But she talked about staying in London, and even going to Paris for a holiday. When he said what a great idea, she fell silent. He had the feeling her going to Paris did not include him.

One day, he was walking down the street and saw them walking arm in arm. He watched from a distance, not wanting to intrude on them. They sat in a café. From the opposite side of the street, he watched as they talked and laughed together.

He visited Lawson who he found sitting on his own in the hospital grounds, smoking a cigarette and staring into space. The doctors had removed the bandages from his face. Milne had grown accustomed to seeing mutilated men so he did not flinch at Lawson's face. His wounds were terrible. The doctors had rebuilt his face, grafting skin from other parts of his body. They had managed to save his damaged eye. Milne noticed he had a letter in his hand. Lawson bowed his head. "I'm a bloody frightening sight ain't I? Women will faint at the sight of me."

Milne patted him on the back. "You're not alone, mate. People back home will treat you like a hero. They know what we've been through. And anyway, Freda loves you and that's all that matters."

Lawson waved his letter around. "It's from my little Freda. The government is allowing 'er to stay in Australia. She'll be granted citizenship eventually which isn't bad considering how folk at home feel about Germans."

"So you're heading home soon?"

"Yeah, I'm on the next hospital ship 'ome old mate. I'm buggered if I know what I'll do back home. After what I've seen, I'm thinking about working in an abattoir. I'll feel right at home. What about you? When are youse and that sweet little nurse getting married?"

He looked away. "A few complications. Mary keeps putting me off. She's encouraging me to go home and she'll follow later when her work is done."

He fell silent and stared into space. Lawson could tell he had something on his mind that he didn't want to talk about. He decided to find out what it was in a round about way. "Maybe she ain't ready for marriage yet, she might need more time."

"I don't think it will ever happen. Mary's a different person to the one I said goodbye to in Australia. Something happened to her when the Count held her captive. When I talk about it, she gives me some story and then breaks off. Ever since Bridget, the French woman Mary was locked up with appeared in London, Mary has gone all strange."

"Look mate, don't waste the rest of you life running after her. Mary's been through a hard time. She needs time to sort 'erself out. We've lived through a time none of us could ever have imagined in our wildest dreams. Better for you to head back to good old Australia and start your life again. She'll come when she's ready."

They shook hands and he promised Lawson he would call him when he arrived back in Australia.

Milne wandered the streets of London, wondering what he should do. He spent hours leaning on the wall running along the Thames Embankment staring into the murky river. _I can't go home yet,_ he thought _. Not until I know for sure that she does not love me. If only she would talk to me, I know I can get her to see reason. Yes, I'll try one more time._

Returning to the army base to change, there was an envelope addressed to him in his mailbox. It was from Mary. She said that it was over between them. She had gone on leave to Paris with Bridget for two weeks and when she returned she had accepted a permanent nursing position in an English hospital. She told Francis to return home and forget her.

He sat down on his bunk, devastated by her letter. Later, he walked to the nearest pub and drank himself into a stupor.

He remained in London for a few more months before returning to Australia, heartbroken and unsure of his future.

When the war ended, Billy Hughes had been in Paris for several months preparing to represent Australia's interests at the Peace Conference. He believed that the Allies owed Australia a debt for its participation in the war. He would accept nothing less than control of the former German colony of New Guinea. The Australian conquests in the Pacific were in his hands – and he intended to keep these for Australia. Anyone who stood in his path, including the American president, Woodrow Wilson, risked incurring his wrath.

After the years of war and political uncertainty, Hughes had come out on top. He had seen off his enemies, and Australian soldiers and the public hailed him as a hero.

He met with his staff on the eve of the Peace Conference to talk about what he wanted for Australia. He was in an expansive mood. "We have won a place at the peace table so our voice will be heard. But I am wary of Woodrow Wilson, the man reeks of Methodist preacher turned politician."

"I understand that Wilson is opposed to the transfer of German New Guinea to Australia," said one of his staffers.

"He brings his country late into the war and then dictates to us, we who have fought by the side of the British and French for four long years. We who have sacrificed so much! Our soldiers fought in every major battle on the Western Front ...it was our soldiers who breached the Hindenburg Line and brought the Germans to their knees. The world will hear Australia's voice. We do not seek control of New Guinea to build an empire – whichever country controls the islands to the north of Australia, controls Australia. We will control these islands and prevent the Germans and the Japanese from using them to threaten us. We won New Guinea by right of conquest. Let him try to take it back from us!"

"How do you propose to outmanoeuvre Wilson? He has the power of the American presidency behind him."

Hughes nodded. "Our strategy will be to enlist the support of the British, French, South Africans and New Zealanders. The South Africans want to annex the former German colony of Namibia, the French and English want Germany's former African colonies, and the New Zealanders want Samoa. Together we will form a block to prevent him forcing us to give up the territories we have won. I cannot return home without New Guinea – such a thing is unthinkable."

"One concern we have is that if we demand New Guinea for ourselves, this will encourage the Japanese to demand they keep the territories they seized in the Pacific and China," said one of his advisers.

"There is little we can do about that," he replied. "With New Guinea under our control, we will prevent the Japanese moving further south. New Guinea is as necessary to us as water is to a city. If it were to fall into the rapacious hands of the Empire of Japan, there will be no peace for Australia. If we don't act, the Japanese will claim New Guinea. Japan is the biggest threat to Australia, not now, but in the years ahead. I will do everything in my power to prevent Japan getting control of islands near our borders. Japan will seek to expand its influence and territory. But not at our expense. Japan will seek to carve up China, that great civilisation of old. It will use its capture of former German colonies in China to expand its territorial claims. Japan will emerge stronger from this war, particularly if it can get its hands on China's resources. Japan is out to build a larger empire and if we aren't careful, we could end up being part of it."

"Sir, the conference will be starting in twenty minutes, delegates have been asked to take their places," said one of his staffers.

"I'll be there directly," he replied.

He turned back to his staff and said, "After the war, Australia will bear a responsibility for New Guinea. It is a heavy burden, but one we will take. We did not go to New Guinea as conquerors. We went there to prevent Germany using it as a base to threaten our shipping. After the war, we will not be conquerors or occupiers but rather as a father is to his young child. Our destiny is to help New Guinea govern itself. We will guide them until they are able to govern themselves according to civilised standards. You see, we do not seek to derive an economic gain from New Guinea - which after all is one of the pillars of all empires. Nor do we seek an outlet for our excess population, which is the other pillar. We have enough of our own land for many millions more people."

Satisfied that he had his arguments worked out, Hughes took his place amongst the delegates. He was on a collision course with President Wilson, whose goal was to establish a foundation for peace – not encourage a grab for territory by the victors.

When at last Hughes had the floor, he unrolled a map of the Pacific and pointed out to the delegates that the former German possessions encompassed Australia like fortresses. He thundered that Australia should be awarded New Guinea to keep the rapacious Japanese at bay. He argued that Australia had suffered enormous war casualties in a nation of only five million people, and had run up a massive war debt. Future generations would have to pay this. He said that after this enormous sacrifice, it would be unjust if Australia had to stagger under this debt, and not feel safe from the expansionist Japanese.

Wilson countered that the League of Nations would look after New Guinea.

However, Hughes warned that if Australia did not continue control of New Guinea, the Japanese would seize it.

When President Wilson asked him who he represented, the meeting fell silent. Every delegate turned to Hughes, standing alone at the head of the table.

"The sixty thousand Australians who died for their country, Mr. President, that's who I speak for."

Hughes won control of New Guinea under the League of Nations mandate system. This allowed Australia to seize all German property and expel German settlers.

The Japanese gained control of the islands of former German Micronesia - Saipan, Yap, Palau, and Truk - to administer under the mandate system.

Japan used these islands to stage its assault on Australia in 1942.

The guns fell silent. The victors and the vanquished tried to get on with life after the war.

Life would never be the same for Francis Milne. As he boarded his ship for the long journey home, he did not know what he was going to do with the rest of his life. His experiences had marred him for life. It was all very well for doctors and armchair soldiers to tell him to forget – they hadn't seen the things he had seen. When he closed his eyes at night, the images came back to haunt him – rotting corpses riddled with bullet holes, oozing blood and pus, the gut-wrenching cries of men and boys with shocking wounds. The death gurgles of gas victims.

The ship docked at the wharf in Sydney and hundreds of people cheered the returning soldiers. He searched the faces of the crowd. His parents were there. His father looked sick. His mother looked like she had aged ten years.

It was a bittersweet homecoming. A few weeks after his return, his father died in the influenza epidemic. His mother, heartbroken over his death, died a few weeks later. As the only child, he inherited the house.

He returned to work in the bank, and studied accounting. He never did finish the course – nor did he stay at the bank. He tried his hand at a number of occupations: labourer, clerk, machinist, tram conductor, truck driver. He never lasted more than a few months at each job.

He received the occasional letter from Mary, but they were very factual and cold. She wrote that she was not ready to return to Australia until all the wounded Australian soldiers had returned home. She stopped responding to his letters.

He teamed up with Lawson and they bought a grocery shop between them. They did well. Freda kept the books and ordered goods. He and Lawson sold the goods to customers, who were in awe of the two returned war veterans. Not one person flinched at Lawson's disfigured face. Even though anti-German feeling was rife, not one person insulted Freda, who everyone said was Swiss anyway. It became local knowledge about the war hero shopkeepers and that it was their duty to buy from their shop. Lawson told the customers sanitised stories about heroic battles, volcanic artillery barrages, and massed bayonet charges. Their customers lapped it up.

Milne was restless and wanted to see more of Australia. He became bored with the life of a shopkeeper. He took to the road, tramping the Australian outback. He tried gold mining for a time and worked as a farm hand. But nothing answered the need he had for something he could not name. When he was sick of travel, he returned to the shop. Eventually he sold his half of the shop to Lawson and Freda.

He had hit rock bottom. He was unemployed and at a loose end. One day he was reading a newspaper when he saw an advertisement offering the sale of former German-owned plantations in New Guinea to former soldiers. He knew next to nothing about managing a plantation, but if he sold his house, he had more than enough to buy a plantation. He had thought a lot about New Guinea since the war. He fondly remembered the six months he'd spent there with Asami. He didn't think he was qualified to be a planter, but he thought he would try it.

Six weeks later, he received a letter informing him the government had awarded him a plantation near Rabaul.

### Chapter 20

On a ship far out to sea, Francis Milne stood on the deck riding the Pacific waves. A seagull glided alongside on the updraft. He leant on the railing and watched it until it peeled off in a perfect arc.

The ship steamed into the Coral Sea, stirring memories of his great adventure when he was part of the New Guinea expedition. He smiled as he remembered his mad adventures in the jungles with Lawson. Memories of Asami came flooding back. He wondered if she was still living in Rabaul, and if she was, whether she was married. Her image appeared before his eyes as if he had only seen her the week before. _Asami, please be in Rabaul,_ he whispered, _I need you more than ever. I want to hide away with you from this world of pain and suffering._

The sun was going down. He stood for a long time on the deck as the night crept over the sea, pondering a new future, a new life, and new challenges.

As soon as he landed in Rabaul, he knew he had made the right decision. He felt like he had come home at last. While the porters unloaded the luggage, he strolled along the tree-lined avenue into the town, walking the same street he had marched along all those years ago. He was pleased that Rabaul had grown and prospered since he last saw it. Hundreds of former Australian soldiers had taken up plantations and settled in and around the town, adding to the existing population of Chinese, Japanese, and New Guineans. Chinatown was booming – the streets were crowded with people shopping and eating at the cafes.

He smelt the familiar fragrance of exotic spices, incense, roast pork and tropical fruit. He walked into the noisy Tolai market, where the stall owners displayed their goods - luscious paw-paws, bananas, pineapples, tomatoes and vegetables.

He walked back along a broad, tree-lined avenue towards the wharf, and looked back over the town. It then struck him why he had such fond memories of Rabaul. As he stood on the avenue, he watched as the population representing every colour and nationality strolled by. Australian troops in khaki shirts and shorts, Chinese girls wearing straw sunshades and modest neck to ankle frocks, bearded German missionaries, Japanese traders, and the locals, men with lips stained red by betel nut juice, the women carrying bundles on their heads and puffing on pipes. This is what he liked about Rabaul. All the world lived here, side by side.

After he collected his luggage, he hired a taxi to take him to his plantation. The plantation was near Namanula, a short walk from Rabaul. He was impressed with the plantation house at the end of a long road surrounded by coconut trees. The house overlooked the sea. It had a deep shaded veranda that extended from the front along the sides and around the back. He climbed the steps and opened the front door.

He heard noises at the back of the house and called out if anyone was there. A young man answered and came out of the back room. Milne guessed he was about sixteen-years-old, a big strapping lad with coffee-brown skin and woolly hair.

"Good morning, sir," he said in flawless English.

"Morning, and who might you be?" asked Francis.

"My name is Kuanda. My mother and I worked here for the former owner as his servants. When he died a few weeks ago we stayed on."

Just as he finished speaking, a woman carrying a basket of fruit and vegetables walked through the front door. She introduced herself as Tomina. She was a slender, attractive woman with a huge smile and dancing eyes. She explained that she had done the cooking and housekeeping for the former owner. She and her son stayed on in the hope the new owner might continue their employment. When she finished speaking, she and Kuanda looked expectantly at him.

"All right you're both hired; I could do with some help to run the plantation."

Tomina and Kuanda threw their arms in the air and cheered. "You must not worry, we will do everything," said Tomina. "You will see. We are very good servants. We will look after you."

Tomina bustled around the house, dusting and cleaning. She instructed Kuanda to carry Milne's bags to his room. Milne unpacked but every time he pulled out an item of clothing, Kuanda seized it from his hands and rushed over to the chest of drawers to put it away. He laughed at Kuanda's high spirits and excitement. He put his hand on his shoulder and told him he'd do the rest himself. Kuanda stood behind him eagerly watching him unpack, ready to leap into action if asked.

After he had unpacked, he told Kuanda to leave him in peace while he rested. After a nap, he returned to the living area, where Tomina had prepared a platter of fresh tropical fruit and other tasty morsels. He sat down and ate while they hovered around him.

After lunch, they showed him around. The house was spacious and in reasonable shape. Kuanda took him on a tour of the plantation, which stretched over hundreds of acres of coconut trees. He bounded ahead, jumping and laughing as he showed him around the grounds. Behind the house were the servant's quarters, and a shed to keep farming implements. The servants maintained an extensive vegetable plot, a pigpen, chickens, and two horses and a cow grazed in a field.

When he had finished the tour, he took Tomina aside and pulled out a wad of notes. She had never seen so much money. He told her he would pay them both a fair wage, and give her a weekly allowance to buy supplies. When he explained what he would pay them monthly, Tomina protested that this was too much. But he shook his head and explained that this was fair for the work he expected them to do. From that moment, Tomina and Kuanda became loyal employees.

That night, they prepared a traditional dinner of roast pig and baked tropical vegetables for him.

The following morning, he rose early to begin work on his plantation. He had no practical experience of processing copra, which was made by splitting the coconut shell in two, drying it in the sun and then crushing it to make cooking oil and soap.

The first problem he faced was that he did not have a labour force to harvest the coconuts. When the previous owner died, the labour force moved on to other plantations. Milne enlisted Tomina's and Kuanda's help in putting the word out that he needed workers. He had considerable savings from the sale of his parents' house, but he realised he would need to earn income as soon as he could.

He noticed that the coconuts had started falling from the trees, indicating that harvest time was here. He determined that for his first harvest, he would concentrate on selling all his copra to a large company until he had the finances to process the copra himself.

He travelled into Rabaul, and to the local villages, letting the locals know that he was hiring, and prepared to pay well. Kuanda and Tomina told their relatives and nearby villagers that Milne was a good man and would treat them right.

When he stepped out his front door the following morning, he was astonished to see Kuanda at the head of a large crowd of workers waiting to start work. He walked through the crowd and selected a couple of experienced copra workers as supervisors. With their help, he hired twenty workers.

They set to work immediately, collecting the coconuts into piles, while others prepared to cut the coconuts in two and dry them in the sun.

While this was in progress, he went into town to sell his future produce to a company. After doing research, he selected an agent, an ex-soldier who had fought at Gallipoli and at Pozieres. They agreed on a price for the copra.

For the next week, he worked from dawn until evening, supervising the harvesting. He impressed his workers by his ability to speak Pidgin English. By the end of the week, he was satisfied that the harvesting and drying was going well. With the harvest under control, he decided to go into town and purchase supplies. He also thought he might ask around the Japanese community to find out what had become of Asami.

The following morning, he drove through the familiar streets of Rabaul's Chinatown. He saw a large store selling pots, pans and other domestic appliances, and parked outside. Walking into the shop, the smell of exotic herbs and tropical fruits struck him. A woman was standing with her back to him at one of the shelves, unaware she had a customer. He knocked on the counter.

She turned around and walked towards him. They both looked at each other in stunned silence.

"Asami?" he said at last.

"Francis?" she said.

What followed was one of those unforgettable moments in life. They flew into each other's arms, laughing, crying, and talking in a rush... "I thought you were back in Japan...I heard you went to Gallipoli...Asami...Francis..." None of it made sense. Asami asked her assistant to look after the shop while she took him to her flat above the shop. While she made tea, she told him what had happened to her since they last saw each other.

She had planned to return to Japan. However, she had delayed her return until it was safer to travel. While she waited, a Japanese trader in Rabaul offered her a job in one of his stores. She worked as a store assistant and then manager of the store. She sold and traded Japanese products to New Guineans; in return, she bought native handicrafts, which she sold to European, Japanese and Chinese merchants, plantation owners, Australian garrison soldiers, and the occasional tourist. The shop sold everything from pots and pans, kimonos and a range of clothes, Japanese tobacco, dried food, coffee, green tea, rice, beer, vegetables and fruit, bowls and plates, and a vast array of carvings and handicrafts.

She cultivated friendships with the Australian occupation authorities and improved her English. Her charm and fair business dealings established her as one of Rabaul's best storekeepers. Her business prospered. The store included a large garden block where she grew cabbage, shallots, lettuce, herbs and greens. The rich fertile soil and good rainfall ensured a continuous supply of food.

In 1916, she had met a young Japanese merchant-adventurer, Takashi Asaka, from a wealthy Japanese trading family. He had ventured into the Pacific to establish a trade network. They married soon after and following the wedding, they bought the store and settled down as man and wife, and business partners. They bought a large airy house at the foot of the hills on the outskirts of Chinatown.

Takashi returned regularly to Japan to purchase more goods, while she ran the store. He brought back a large quantity of goods for their shop. His business connections in Japan paid off.

For Asami, life had come full circle. She was now living the life she expected to live. She loved Takashi. He was a gentle, kind man. The years went by. The war ended, and trading conditions improved. In 1919, she gave birth to a son.

When their son was old enough, they decided to send him to Japan for his education. Asami's mother-in-law who was visiting them, promised to see to his welfare and give him a home. Takashi and his mother took the boy to Japan, promising that he would return soon, while Asami managed the shop. The plan was that once Takashi had enrolled their son in school, he would return.

The weeks went by and Asami heard nothing from him. When a steamer from Japan arrived in Rabaul, she would run down to the wharf expecting him back. One day she received a letter from him explaining that he had met another woman. He annulled their marriage.

Heartbroken, she wrote to him pleading with him to reconsider. She added that she was returning to Japan permanently to be with her son and start her life again.

She received a letter from her mother-in-law telling her to forget about her son and husband. She accused her of being a whore who had tricked her son into marriage, and warned her that she would never get her son back. She said bringing up her grandson in Rabaul was inappropriate. She added that if Asami came to Japan and caused trouble, the police would arrest her. The one concession she made was that she could keep the business she and Takashi had built, although she did not think Asami had the brains to run it without Takashi.

Asami travelled to Japan and looked everywhere for her family, and her lying mother-in-law. She spent months and all her money trying to find them. Her evil mother-in-law had her arrested on trumped up charges. Asami returned to Rabaul. Although she had to sell the house they had shared, she still had her store and her little flat above the store. Such was Asami's story.

He bowed his head under the weight of her sorrow. He could see that the loss of her husband and child had deeply wounded her. Yet when he looked into her eyes, he could see the Asami he remembered. She had grown into a handsome and formidable woman. He looked over at her shamisen by her bed.

She lifted her tear-stained eyes and followed his line of vision. She walked over, picked up the instrument, sat on the bed, and sang the song she had sung to him all those years ago at the Black Cat. This time she sang it in English. The effect on both of them was the same, and they wept with joy, and hugged and kissed.

For the rest of the afternoon, they chatted as if they had only seen each other the week before. He told her what happened to him after he left Rabaul: his recovery from malaria, the landing at Gallipoli and the bloody battles at Hill 60, his involvement with the Wobblies, and then the battles he fought in northern France. He told her what had happened to Freda and Cliff.

It had been a long time since he had felt this contented. He felt he had come home at last. He resolved that he would never leave her side again.

"Asami, I have lived an eventful life. I never forgot you in all the years we have been apart. I loved you then and I love you now. Fate brought us together on that September day in 1914, and now it has brought us together again. We must never be apart again."

Asami listened intently, drinking in his words.

"Asami, if you feel the same way about me, I need to know."

"You will always be my true love," she replied. "All these years I hoped you would come back one day. Now you are here, we must be together always."

Within a few weeks of their reunion, they were living as man and wife.

A few months after they were reunited, he received a letter from Lawson saying that he and Freda had sold their shop in Sydney and were following him to Rabaul.

One day Francis was sitting on his veranda, lost in thought.

"Hello, off with the fairies as always, Sergeant Milne," said a booming voice.

Cliff and Freda were standing at the bottom of the veranda steps.

"Asami, come and see who it is," he shouted.

Asami ran out onto the veranda and nearly fainted with joy. They ran down the stairs and embraced.

That night they held a party to mark their reunion. Freda reminded them that back in December 1914 when they were going their separate ways, she had hoped they would all be together again. "And here we are, just as I hoped."

Well into the night, the jungle surrounding the plantation house echoed to their carefree laughter. And as the sun came up, they were still sitting on the veranda in the cool dawn light.

RIDING THE STORM

### Chapter 21

Francis Milne faced a dilemma. Should he stay or should he go? He had lived in Rabaul for most of his adult life. It was September 1941 and for the last year, he had watched with growing alarm as the war threatened to engulf New Guinea. Australia had been at war with Nazi Germany for more than two years, and Australian troops had fought in Greece and Crete and were fighting against German and Italian troops in North Africa. The war seemed a distant unreal event. His part of the world slumbered in peace and serenity, but further north, Japanese armies advanced relentlessly into China, leaving a trail of death and destruction in their wake. He thought that Japan was a greater threat to Rabaul and Australia than Germany, but Australia was not at war with Japan. Not yet.

He stood on the wharf staring into the sea thinking about what he should do. The wharf was the lifeblood of the town. It was here that he had landed fifteen years ago to take up his plantation in the hills behind the town, and it was from here he exported his first shipments of copra to Australia. He was one of hundreds of Australian settlers who had settled in New Guinea in the 1920's and 30's to work as planters, gold miners, merchants, and officials. New Guinea was not for the faint of heart. Settlers risked malaria and other tropical diseases. A minor scratch could turn septic if not treated properly. Life was good for those who adapted. He had adapted well to the climate and conditions; he took quinine regularly to ward off malaria, and drank only filtered water from his water tanks. He prided himself for his strength and stamina. _Not bad for a bloke of forty-seven,_ he thought. His only health concern was the return of malaria, which he had contracted back in '14, but had recovered. In the last few years, he started experiencing symptoms – night sweats, aching joints and a fever that came and went.

The tropical beauty and mystery of his island home had mesmerised him from the moment he had landed in Rabaul. The harbour edged by jungle-clad slopes and mountains. The brooding volcanoes watching over the town. Fishing boats, small steamers, yachts and canoes plied the water. The broad avenues of the town lined with lush vegetation.

He walked briskly towards his plantation house, passing houses on stilts with deep verandahs, and followed the road up to Namanula, on a hill above Simpson Harbour. He turned off the road and walked up the long driveway lined with palm trees to his house. Sitting in his comfortable cane armchair on the verandah, he looked over the harbour below, which sparkled in the morning light. The sounds of the jungle: the raucous call of birds, the low hum of cicadas, distant drums, singing, the rustling of palm fronds on the side of his house, wrapped around him.

He glanced at the pile of newspapers on the table in front of him. On top of the pile was the September 1941 issue of the _Rabaul Times_ hot off the press. More bad news. More rumours about Japanese plans to seize Southeast Asia all the way to Rabaul and on to Australia.

Haunted by his memories of trench warfare at Gallipoli and on the Western Front, he had hoped to find peace in New Guinea. He threw himself into building his businesses and tried to forget about his experiences of the war. But as another war crept closer to him, the images ran through his mind. He wished he could shut them out, but they were increasing in their vividness as the threat of war grew.

A few weeks after he had settled in New Guinea, he and Asami had renewed their relationship and were living as husband and wife. However, four years after they married, she had died of malaria. He was so distraught that he had considered returning to Australia permanently. But the lure of New Guinea and the urging of his friends to stay won in the end. He would never forget Asami but life must go on and he thought that she would have wanted him to remain in New Guinea.

Two years after her death, he was making one of his many business trips to Sydney when he met Mary Batten, his wartime sweetheart. The last time he had seen her was in London in 1919 when he was returning home after demobilisation and she had decided to stay on working in the English hospitals. Mary had returned to Australia in 1921 but never married. After their chance meeting, they spent two weeks in Sydney rekindling their old romance. When he returned to Rabaul, they wrote regularly and a few months later, she visited him to see if she liked the life of a plantation wife. She stayed and they married. She settled into her new life and they had a daughter, Susan, now twelve years old.

"Tea?" called Mary from the kitchen, bringing him back to reality.

Looking up from his paper, he called out 'yes'. She placed a tray laden with cups and a teapot on the table between them. Waiting the required time for the tea to fuse with the hot water, she placed two cups on the table and poured the rich, locally grown tea. He watched the expression on her face as the steaming tea filled his cup. She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.

He let the fragrance waft into his nostrils, and took a sip. "Perfect."

Mary never imagined in her wildest dreams that she would one day be a planter's wife in New Guinea. She had to give up her occupation as a nurse after they had married. Despite the hardship of living in the colony, she tolerated her life in Rabaul because she loved him. She never loved living in Rabaul as much as he did. For her, Rabaul was a ramshackle town with a hot, uncomfortable tropical climate with the constant risk of contracting malaria and other tropical diseases, surrounded by active volcanoes.

They had decided that because of the deteriorating situation in the Pacific, she and Susan should set up house in Sydney and he would join them later. This decision had been hard for both of them and they had discussed it for many months. He had decided that he would stay in Rabaul at least for a few more months to wrap up his business affairs. Although Mary wanted to stay with him, she realised the danger they faced if the Japanese attacked. They had bought a house in Sydney at Kirribilli by the harbour and while she would miss him, she looked forward to going home and returning to nursing. She and Susan were booked on a ship tomorrow. This was their last day.

He read the newspaper and shook his head.

"More bad news?" she asked.

He had joined the intelligence unit of the local militia – the New Guinea Volunteer Rifles, as a part-time member at the outbreak of war with the rank of an honorary captain. His duties were not onerous and he was able to run his businesses alongside his intelligence gathering activities. His position gave him an insight into Japan's aggressive intentions towards Britain, Australia and the USA.

He nodded grimly. "We've built a home and business for ourselves here. I built this plantation with my bare hands. I don't want to give up any of this."

She looked at him. "Francis, are you sure you won't reconsider? What is the point of staying here? I want you with me in Sydney. We want you in Sydney with us."

"We've been through this before. I have a duty to the military. I've been asked to stay and do intelligence reports."

"There are other, younger men, who could be doing this work."

"No, nobody knows this island and the settlers like I do. I'll stay here until my work is done."

She was about to reply when a car pulled up in the driveway, a distinctive 1930 green ford. Their best friends and business partners, Cliff and Freda Lawson climbed out of the car.

Milne leaned over the verandah railing and welcomed them.

Lawson had trouble climbing stairs, a legacy of his war wounds. Despite this, he ignored helping hands and picked up speed as he approached the first step to get a running start. He struggled after the first step.

"Unhand me woman," he said, pushing Freda's hand away. "I can look after meself."

Freda walked to the top of the stairs and stood next to Mary. They exchanged knowing glances. "He won't let anyone help him," she muttered.

Freda had not changed much in the years she and Cliff had lived in New Guinea. She was an imposing woman who spoke with a German accent. She had lived an eventful life, settling in New Guinea with her first husband, a planter, twenty-five years ago when it was a German colony. She had survived internment in Australia during the First World War and imprisonment for her escape from the internment camp with the help of Lawson. While she and Lawson were on the run, she became pregnant. Their first son, Richard, had died in the influenza epidemic that swept the world after the war.

After living in Australia for a few years and having another son, David, they moved to Rabaul and went into business with Milne. In 1940, David had joined the AIF and was in North Africa with the 9th Division.

Lawson grimaced and grunted but climbed up the steps. "There, I reckon I did it faster than last time." He limped over to the table and sat down.

Mary offered him a cup of tea, which he drank it in one gulp.

"We may as well enjoy this life while we can because the Japs will be here soon," he said. "I was listening to the radio before I came over and things are going from bad to worse. The Japs are intent on war with any country that stands in their way. The Americans have cut off their oil supplies and demanded they withdraw from China. The Japs are mad as hell."

"Do you think Japan will attack?" asked Mary.

"Japan has colonies and naval bases just north of Rabaul," he continued. "Japan believes it should rule Southeast Asia. Now, if Japan wants to take over this part of the world, Rabaul is the only decent port around here. I reckon Japan will try to take this town."

"We'll find out more today, there's a meeting in town about the situation in the Pacific," said Milne. "Cliff and I are going."

"Some big wig from the government is in town to tell us we don't have to worry about the Japs," added Lawson. "The meeting's at the New Guinea Club."

Freda smirked. "Is this a meeting or another excuse for a booze-up?"

"This is a serious meeting," replied Lawson. "But we'll have a few beers while we're there."

Milne kissed Mary on both cheeks. "I'll be back tonight, probably late."

"Drive carefully," she said, "and don't drink too much. And be careful on the roads, there have been a lot of car accidents lately."

They drove into town and parked at the back of the club. The large meeting room was crowded with officers and soldiers, settlers and officials. Everyone knew everyone in Rabaul. Milne recognised fellow plantation owners, public servants, merchants, bank tellers, storeowners – all eager to hear the latest news from Australia.

The chair, who was sitting at a table at the front of the room next to an older man in a suit, called the meeting to order. "Many of you are worried about the Japanese threat to Rabaul. The Australian government has sent a representative, Mr Percy Harrington, to speak to us."

Harrington stood up. "I understand that some of you are concerned that Japan might launch an attack. As you know, the Government has sent a battalion to defend Rabaul and New Guinea. These soldiers will be ably assisted by your militia."

"We'll need more than a battalion and militiamen to stop the Japanese attacking," replied Milne. "What about a couple of Australian divisions?"

"Based on the latest intelligence, Mr Milne, we do not believe Japan has the capability to wage war in the Pacific," interjected the chair.

"This is the Government's view," said Harrington. "We must remember that Fortress Singapore, and the British Navy, are our guarantee that Japan will not dare to attack. We must also remember that the American naval base at Pearl Harbour is a deterrent to Japanese aggression. No, Japan has its hands full in China, where it is bogged down in an endless war. Launching a war in the Pacific would be a reckless adventure."

"I think you're underestimating the Japanese," replied Milne. "Anyone who knows anything about the Japanese knows they have plans to conquer the Pacific."

Members of the audience called out that Milne was right, and that Rabaul was vulnerable to attack. Others scoffed that 'the little monkeys' were so short-sighted they would get lost in the jungles.

The chair stood up and called for order. "Please, this fellow has come all the way from Australia to talk to us, let's hear him out."

Harrington, who had remained standing during the interruption smiled benignly. "I understand some of you are anxious but I can assure you the Japanese are not capable of mounting major military operations by sea. Their naval forces are no match for the combined British, Australian and American navies."

He spoke for an hour telling them that a Japanese attack was highly unlikely. However, he added that should Japan launch such a foolish adventure, Allied forces would be able to deal with them. He asked if there were any questions.

Milne stood up. "All our military forces are in North Africa fighting the Germans and Italians. If Japan turns against us, how are we going to defend ourselves? Secondly, Britain has its hands full fighting Hitler, can we be sure they will rush to our aid should Japan attack?"

"We must not underestimate the power of British naval and military forces in the Pacific. The impregnable fortress of Singapore is our best guarantee. The British Empire will defend us against the Japanese. We have nothing to fear."

The meeting ended, and the audience headed to the bar for drinks. Milne and Lawson found a quiet corner and ordered beer.

"What did you think of that Harrington bloke," he asked Lawson.

"It's a cover-up. The Government don't want to admit that we're up shit creek without a paddle if the Japanese attack."

"How's David going over in North Africa, have you heard from him?" asked Milne.

"Yeah, all right. We got a letter from him a month or so ago. He's in Libya at a place called Tobruk. They're giving the Italians and Germans hell."

They drank until closing time and drove home.

As they pulled into the driveway, Freda waved to them from the veranda.

"Oh, here they are, Mary. I'll get a pot of tea on. What did you pair get up to?"

"Not much my little Germanic temptress," replied Lawson. "A few drinks with the boys."

They had a cup of tea and went to bed.

Milne had difficulty sleeping that night. The meeting in town was going through his mind. The impending departure of Mary and Susan was also unsettling him. He wondered how he was going to function without them. Mary was his best friend and Susan was the light of his life. When he could not sleep, his mind started playing visual memories of his war experiences. The bloody scenes at the battle of Hill 60 in Gallipoli were before his eyes as if he were watching it in a film. He would never forget that dreadful afternoon when his battalion charged the Turkish trenches. They died in their hundreds. Only a handful of soldiers managed to crawl up the hill to cling to a precarious trench in the face of furious Turkish counterattacks. Then he was in a trench in France, surrounded by dead and dying soldiers. Lawson was calling to him over the howling artillery barrage, but he could not hear what he was saying. He woke with a start.

"What is it?" asked Mary. "You were having a nightmare. Shh." She put her arms around him and buried her head in his chest.

He lay on his back. "A bad dream. I moved to New Guinea to forget the war and live in peace. Now the war is creeping towards Rabaul. I don't ever want to see war again. A horrible, horrible thing. All those young men taken in their prime."

"It's all right, my sweet, I'm here. It's not too late to change your mind. Book a passage on the next ship to Sydney. We'll be together and forget about the war. You can work for military intelligence in Australia. Together in Sydney away from all this. Think of your daughter."

_My life would be nothing without Mary_ , he thought. _She is my very being, the centre of my universe. She gives my life meaning_.

Hugging her he said, "I have made my decision. I volunteered to serve in the militia and I intend to remain until I'm told to stand down. I'm staying to fight if I must. I don't want to but I am committed to our cause. There can be no turning back. I hate the idea of fighting, but if everyone thought the same and refused to fight, the Hitlers would take over the world. No, I will stay here but I know I'll make it through and we will be together again."

Mary drifted off to sleep. He stared at the ceiling through the mosquito net. Outside he could hear the rhythms of the jungle night. The ocean breeze rustled the palm fronds. The visions of the battlefields gave way to a host of thoughts crowding into his mind.

What if war comes to our home? Should I fight or run and hide in the jungle? I don't want to spill blood again. What will become of me and the other settlers? I can't solve these lying in bed in the middle of the night. Dawn will bring a new day. Mary is leaving in the morning and I have a lot of work around the plantation tomorrow; I need as much sleep as possible. I will not think of these things.

He rolled on to his side. It was rare for him not to be able to sleep. Usually he could defer the most pressing problem until the following day. A good night's sleep provided the answer to most problems.

Next morning, Mary made last minute preparations for the trip. Susan was packed and excited to be going on a ship but sad he was not coming. All morning she followed him around, hugging him when he stopped.

Cliff and Freda joined them and they had a farewell morning tea on the verandah.

"We're going to miss you old girl," said Lawson. "Won't be the same without you. Old misery guts will have an even longer face."

"I'll be right," said Milne. "With you and Susan safe in Australia, it's one less thing for me to worry about."

"Promise me you'll write often," said Mary. "Freda, make sure he writes to me every week and tells me what's going on."

"I will. I'll miss you, Mary. And you little one," she said, ruffling Susan's hair. "It won't be the same when you're gone. Write to me often."

Mary took her hand. "I'll miss you. I want you to promise that if things get bad here you'll come back to Australia. And bring these two with you."

"I promise. Come on cheer up. I predict the four of us will be together again one day. We'll be next door neighbours in Sydney and all this will be behind us."

### Chapter 22

The early morning air was warm and humid as Milne left his house and walked to militia headquarters in central Rabaul. The long walk cleared his head.

Stopping at the wharf, he glanced across the bay at Vulcan, the volcano that sat on Rabaul's doorstep. Sulphur fumes drifted on the wind as it rumbled and growled. The volcanoes around Rabaul had erupted several times in the years he had lived on the island. The biggest was in 1937. He and Mary had been sitting on his veranda looking out over the harbour on a warm Saturday morning. Suddenly the earth shook, followed by an earth-shaking rumble. The earth shook again. Smoke poured out of Vulcan, followed by a massive explosion. Pumice shot into the sky. Black smoke and ash drifted across Rabaul reducing visibility to zero. More explosions ripped through the air, followed by a deep rumbling in the earth. The other active volcano, Tavurvur, joined in the fiery display, erupting with equal fury. Townspeople and villagers fled through the thick, choking smoke into the hills or to the safety of the north coast. Later in the morning, lava burst from Vulcan like uncorked champagne. As it hit the water, clouds of steam billowed into the sky. In the afternoon, a fierce electrical storm blew over the town, washing away the black ash and flooding the houses and streets.

Their hilltop plantation was undamaged by the eruption. They and other nearby plantation owners provided a safe haven for the refugees from Rabaul. Hundreds of refugees squeezed into their houses, or under cover in tents and other shelters scattered around the plantations. They provided food, shelter, first aid and support for the homeless. The eruption killed hundreds of villagers living near the volcano. Despite the savagery of the earthquake, Rabaul had sustained only minor damage to houses and buildings. Since 1937, the volcanoes around the town had erupted several times but not as seriously. Looking at Vulcan, he wondered if it was about to erupt again.

He continued his walk to the town. On the eve of the Pacific War, Rabaul had grown into a prosperous trading town, its wealth built on copra and gold. It was the largest town on the island of New Britain the most developed island in the Territory of New Guinea. The island had an extensive network of roads, ports and plantations. Several hundred Australian, European and Asian settlers lived alongside thousands of Tolai, the indigenous people of New Guinea, who worked on the plantations and as servants, policemen, and traders. On market day, hundreds of Tolai carried vegetables into town to sell and trade.

The Chinese community was the largest Asian group and staunchly pro-Allies. The social centre of the Chinese community in Rabaul was the Kuomintang Hall. The Chinese Nationalist Party was active in the town and fundraisers from China regularly visited. A small number of Japanese settlers also lived in and around the town.

Rabaul had a racetrack, cricket and football clubs, a cinema, pool halls, a petrol station, and a swimming pool. There were several hotels in the town. Milne's favourite was the Rabaul Hotel where he and Lawson were regulars.

New Guinea was defended by the New Guinea Volunteer Rifles and the 2/22nd Infantry Battalion, known collectively as Lark Force, under the command of Colonel Scanlan, a World War 1 veteran. Engineers had built roads and gun emplacements for coastal guns and antiaircraft batteries, and soldiers had dug trenches at strategic points along the coast around Rabaul and the two main airfields at Lakunai and Tunakanau.

Milne arrived at headquarters and walked into his small office. On his desk was a note from the navy that it had intercepted a message from a spy somewhere in the town to Japanese intelligence in Tokyo. The intercepted message described recently installed artillery positions at Praed Point and the arrival of Australian infantry reinforcements. Although the military had not pinpointed where the message had been sent from or who had sent the message, Milne suspected that Masuda Tankara, a Japanese businessman in Rabaul, had sent it. For the past six months, he had been monitoring Tankara's activities but did not have enough proof to arrest him as a spy. He believed that Tankara was the head of a spy network, which included Klaus Frickner, a German settler, a Swedish settler named Ingmar Friberg, and Dutch/German resident Helena Jansen. He suspected they had a small group of sympathisers who gave them support. Friberg was a known Nazi sympathiser before the war but kept his views to himself when Australia went to war with Germany lest the authorities intern him. Jansen, a German citizen was married to a Dutchman who had died a few years before. Friberg managed her plantation. There was rumours around the town at the time of her husband's death that she and Friberg were lovers and had poisoned him. The police investigation found no evidence of foul play.

Milne walked to his locked cabinet and removed a file marked 'Top Secret'. Over the years, he had accumulated information on the spy network.

On the first page was a note on Tankara:

_Japanese businessman, arrived Rabaul 1936. Runs import/export business selling exotic bird feathers and art works. Travels to Japan regularly._ _He has access to a radio to communicate with company headquarters in Tokyo._ _He drives a car to and from work and I have seen him driving along the coast to Kokopo, south of Rabaul._

Milne had met Tankara a few times. He was a charming, polite man who presented himself as an educated, cultured man of the world. Tall for a Japanese of this time, he dressed in western clothes and was engaged in several social activities around the town. In his spare time, he was an avid bird watcher and Milne had often seen him around the mountains and hills of Rabaul with binoculars and a camera.

He turned the page to the next note:

_Klaus Frickner, German settler arrived Rabaul, 1913. Went bush when we took Rabaul in 1914. Reappeared after the war married to an English wife, Ida Handly. Became a permanent resident in 1924. Before the war, he led a band of men kidnapping villagers for plantation work. His methods of recruitment were brutal_ _and the Tolai feared and hated him. His labour recruiting territory ranged from the Admiralties, New Ireland and New Britain. He commanded a fleet of vessels to carry his gang and the captives he seized. The police had arrested him several times before the war for fighting, shooting and wounding villagers, assault and robbery. Suspected spy for Nazi Germany. Fled before we could intern him in 1939._

Australian authorities had tried to rid the colony of German settlers because they saw them as a threat to national security, but before the war, a few hundred still lived in and around Rabaul. When war came, authorities had rounded up all German males for internment but allowed the females to remain free. Some Germans changed their names and identities and moved deeper into the jungle. Some like Frickner, fled. There were various sightings of him over the years but he always eluded capture. Police once had him surrounded in his hideout but he had escaped into the jungle.

There was a photograph of Frickner and his wife on the file taken in 1935. He was a thickset, ugly little man with a bushy beard and a pistol stuffed in his belt. His wife was standing meekly by his side. As Milne studied the picture, he recognised her. She worked in a clothing shop in town and he decided to visit her.

On the next page, he had written a file note on Friberg and Jansen:

I observed them on a number of occasions looking at military positions and troop movements. I have been seen them meeting at Tankara's house. I questioned them about their association with Tankara but they claimed they were all members of a bird watching club and often roamed the countryside observing bird life.

Lawson sauntered in and tossed his hat on the hat stand, missed and ignored it.

Milne handed him the message and the file and said, "It's time we had a chat to Tankara and the others. We'll start with Tankara and then talk to Friberg, Jansen and Frickner's wife."

Lawson rubbed his hands together. "Good, about bloody time. We'll bring Tankara in and if he won't talk..." He smashed his fist into the palm of his hand. "A bit of the old biff might make him confess. That bloody Jap has been spying on us for years."

Milne shook his head. "We're trying not to anger the Japanese. We'll play it low key. We'll visit him in his office."

"I'll bloody give him low key..." began Lawson.

"Corporal Lawson, if you can't control yourself, I'll question him alone."

Lawson saluted and snapped to attention. "You can rely on me, Captain Milne, to be the very image of propriety and good manners."

Milne laughed. "All right, you can come with me when I question Tankara, but you are to remain silent and let me do the talking."

They walked to Tankara's office in central Rabaul. Milne saw the door ajar and they were already in before Tankara was aware of them. He looked surprised, but then hid this behind a broad smile. He stood and bowed.

Milne said he wanted to ask him some questions.

"Please come in," he said, "my office is very small and I only have two chairs. I apologise for the lack of space."

Lawson stood at the back of the room by the door, glowering at Tankara, while Milne sat in front of the desk.

"How might I help you?"

"I work for militia intelligence and I am investigating the origins of a message intercepted by our military. Did you recently send a radio message?"

"I send messages to my company headquarters in Tokyo weekly. This is part of my normal business practices."

"The message concerned vital military matters," said Milne. "I believe you sent the message."

"No, I did not. I have not sent any messages about military matters. I will remind you that Australia and Japan are friends and I have diplomatic protection."

"The message was sent by someone in central Rabaul," continued Milne.

"It was not me."

"You have access to a radio and I have seen you driving and walking around the island looking at military preparations," replied Milne.

Tankara's eyes flashed with anger. He needed all his self-control not to demand they leave. "In my business I do walk around town but I can assure you I have no interest in your military preparations."

Lawson looked around the room, but did not see any evidence that Tankara was running a business. Most of the papers he could see were sketches of birds, and the countryside around Rabaul. There were also several drawings of the harbour on the desk and on the wall. Tankara noticed Lawson looking at the drawings.

"As I said, my radio is used to send messages to my business partners in Tokyo. And I live here so it is not unusual for me to walk around town. I'm busy, unless there is something else I can do for you, I must get back to work..."

"I have not finished yet," said Milne. "Do you know a man named Klaus Frickner?"

Tankara hesitated. He could not be sure how much they knew. "I may have met Mr Frickner many years ago but I have not had contact with him since German residents were interned."

"I have an eyewitness who claims to have seen you meeting Frickner six months ago."

"Who is this person?" demanded Tankara. "This is not true. I have not seen Mr Frickner for many years."

"Are you and Frickner passing information to the Japanese military?"

"I am a law-abiding Japanese national living in Rabaul. I support the Australian government. I don't see how else I can help you."

"Answer the fucking question!" said Lawson.

Tankara's eyes flashed with rage. He controlled himself. "No, I have not passed information to the Japanese military. And I have not seen Mr Frickner for years."

"Do you know a Mr Friberg and Mrs Jansen?"

"Yes, they are members of my birdwatching club..."

Lawson stifled a laugh.

Tankara looked at him fiercely. "I am also a member. There are many exotic birds on this island."

"Not only that, it's a good cover to spy on our military preparations," said Lawson.

Tankara smiled and looked at Milne. "I'm not sure what else I can tell you. I hope our two countries remain at peace."

Milne said nothing for a few moments, mulling over his next step. He didn't want to spook Tankara; he wanted to flush him out. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Tankara. That will be all for the moment."

Tankara, relieved, stood up and bowed. "Think nothing of it. I understand you have a job to do."

He bowed again, as they left the office.

For a long time, Tankara sat pondering his interview with Milne. He waited a few hours, and then locked his office. His office was one of several small offices connected by a narrow corridor. He hurried down the corridor to the back door, went down a flight of stairs, and walked into another building. Walking up the narrow staircase, he arrived in front of a dark door. Tapping out the code on the door with his pen, he heard movement inside. The door opened, and the radio operator peered from the darkness.

"I must send a message," he said to the dark figure.

The radio operator let him in and bowed. He sat by his radio, ready to turn the message into code and send it.

Tankara sat down and dictated the message to Japanese intelligence:

Visited by two Australian intelligence officers regarding interception of my recent message. They suspect I am spying on their military preparations, but don't have any proof. Have put them off but they will be back. They may arrest me at any moment. What action should I take?

The operator coded the message and sent it. They both waited for a response from Tokyo.

A few hours later, Tankara received the response from headquarters:

Go about your business. Don't draw attention to yourself. Take care. Don't send any more messages unless necessary.

"You should have let me have a go at him," said Lawson back at headquarters. "He looked like a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights. I say we bring him in for questioning and make him confess."

Milne shook his head. "We'll keep a watch on his house and business, and if we have enough evidence, we'll arrest him and search his house."

"Did you see the way he looked at me?" said Lawson. "I reckon if he had a gun, he would have shot me dead."

"He'd probably like us both dead. Let's go talk to Frickner's wife."

They walked the short distance to the shop and stepped inside. The shop was dark and cool. Ida Handly was standing at the counter of the empty shop.

Milne introduced himself and Lawson, telling her that they were investigating a suspicious message sent from Rabaul. He asked her if she had seen her husband recently.

She shook her head. "Good riddance," she added. "The man was a beast. I should never have married him."

"Do you know anyone who might hide him?" asked Milne.

She shrugged. "I have not seen him for many years. I know nothing about him."

"Did he visit you when he was on the run?" asked Lawson.

"Will I be in trouble if I say yes?"

Milne assured her she would not. All they wanted to know was who his associates were. Ida closed the shop and invited them to her living quarters at the back. Two small rooms with a kitchen. They squeezed around her kitchen table while she made tea.

"Our marriage was a convenience marriage," she began. "He thought that if he was married to an Englishwoman, the authorities would not deport him to Germany. They allowed him to stay but once he had his papers, we went our separate ways. He occasionally visited me and gave me money he had made trading in the islands. Sometimes he would stay a few days but then he would be gone for months. When Australia went to war, he stopped visiting me and I heard that he was on the run."

She paused and poured them a cup of tea. "He came to see me a few times since the war mainly for food and a dry place to spend the night."

"Was he alone when he visited you?" asked Milne.

"Yes. I asked him once where he was hiding but he would not tell me. The only thing he ever said was that he had friends who were helping him."

Milne asked if he had ever mentioned any names. She replied that he never used surnames but once mentioned a woman's name, Helena, and a man's name, Ingmar or something. He had also mentioned a Japanese man who had helped him.

"Thank you, Mrs Frickner."

"Please, I don't use that name anymore. Call me Mrs Handly or Ida."

As they headed back to headquarters, Milne thought that Frickner must have the support of several people – there was no way he could survive alone in the jungle. Villagers would have reported him to the police. No, his friends hid him. He probably moved around at night from one safe house to another. He concluded that Frickner, Friberg and Jansen were passing military intelligence to Tankara who was relaying this information to the Japanese military. They met under cover of the birdwatching club, which also gave them a cover to wander around the island with binoculars.

Milne put a request to his commanding officer that they arrest the spy ring immediately and build a case against them, but he rejected this action because Milne had no solid evidence that Tankara and the others were spies. The army had bigger issues to worry about than a group of possible spies. Lark Force had the impossible task of defending the vast islands of New Guinea with less than two thousand men.

Undaunted, Milne was determined to build a case against the spy ring. He and Lawson drove to Jansen's plantation near Kokopo, twenty kilometres south of Rabaul. When New Guinea was a German colony, the Germans called the town Herbertshohe, and because of its milder climate, it attracted many German settlers. Up until 1910, it was the capital of German New Guinea before the administration moved to Rabaul. The town had a large European population, including many former German residents who had avoided internment.

They drove along the Kokopo road to her plantation and pulled up in the driveway.

As they walked towards the house, a woman armed with a rifle stood on the verandah watching them approach.

Milne called out to her that they were members of the militia and wished to speak to her. She asked for identification and only lowered her rifle when Milne waved his ID card under her nose.

"Sorry, can't be too careful in these parts," she said. She invited them onto the veranda and offered them a cold drink.

They sat at the table. Milne asked if she knew Mr Tankara. She replied that she was a member of a birdwatching club, which included Tankara.

"You have a strong accent, where are from originally?" he asked.

"I was born in Germany but I moved to Holland with my parents. I have lived here in Rabaul for many years."

She produced her identity papers.

"Do you live here alone?" asked Lawson.

She explained that her Dutch husband died two years before and she had been managing the plantation on her own with the help of Mr Friberg.

"That's a lot for one woman to take on," said Lawson.

She shrugged. "I do what I must to live. These are uncertain times, Mr Lawson."

When Milne asked if she knew Klaus Frickner, she hesitated. Brushing the hair from her eyes, she said she might have heard other settlers talking about him.

Lawson asked her which other settlers had talked about him.

When she hesitated again, Milne warned her that this was a security matter and he had the power to take her to Rabaul for further questioning. As he questioned her, a man wearing a broad-brimmed hat armed with a rifle walked up the front path. Milne told the man to identify himself.

"That is Mr Friberg, my plantation manager," she said.

"Is everything all right?" he called.

Friberg walked up the steps and Milne asked him whether he knew Frickner. Friberg said that he had heard of him.

"I had heard that he had run away when German residents were interned. That is all. I have never met him or seen him in the area."

"Nor I," added Helena. "I had heard his name but did not know him. I had heard he was a Nazi – I do not like the Nazis."

"I am Swedish and therefore have no sympathy for the Nazis," added Friberg. "He can rot in hell."

"Before the war, you were a known supporter of Nazi Germany," said Milne.

"I have changed my mind," replied Friberg. "I thought Hitler was the saviour of Germany where I lived for many years before I moved here. But he will destroy Germany."

Lawson asked if they knew of any residents in the area who might have helped Frickner while he was on the run. Both said absolutely not, all the European residents in the area were loyal members of the British Empire.

Satisfied that they were not going to get anything more from then, they drove back to town.

"What do you reckon?" asked Lawson. "I didn't trust either of them."

Milne gave him a pained look. "I don't either. Friberg looked nervous, scared. I'm wondering if he might say more if we talked to him alone."

They decided to drive around the plantations and the town and ask residents if they had seen Frickner or anyone suspicious in the area.

They showed pictures of Frickner to several settlers. John Marsden, an English plantation owner recognised Frickner as a man he had seen 'hanging around' the area. He was sure he had seen him with Mrs. Jansen and her manager Friberg a month ago. On another occasion, he was driving by Jansen's plantation when he saw Friberg and Jansen meeting a Japanese man. He said that he had a 'gut feeling' that they were up to something and that other English and Australian plantation owners in the area had complained about them. He added that Frickner might live nearby. He had seen Frickner in the area at least three times in the last six months, and he suspected Frickner lived in a hut near the Jansen plantation.

Marsden guided them to the hut. They were walking up the path when several shots narrowly missing them. Both pulled out their guns and returned fire. The shooter returned fire for a few minutes and then broke off.

Circling around the hut, they opened fire from the rear to flush him out but he did not return fire. Milne kicked in the door and searched the hut but the shooter had escaped. They raced out the back door just in time to see a man, matching the description of Frickner, disappearing into the jungle. They gave chase, firing their pistols as they went but he escaped.

Returning to hut, they searched it but found nothing. They drove back to town and planned their next move.

### Chapter 23

Tankara sat in his office contemplating his meeting with Milne and Lawson. He had nothing but contempt for them and all the Australians and British in New Guinea. He believed that Japan was destined to rule a vast empire, the Greater East Asian Sphere of Co-Prosperity, stretching from China to New Guinea and beyond. Rabaul would one day be the major Japanese naval and military base in the Pacific. The Japanese would kill or expel all Australians and British from the region. He had a vision of thousands of Japanese settlers one day farming New Guinea and Papua. And he was going to help make that happen.

He hated the Chinese settlers in New Guinea because they were a potential fifth column in the future Japanese colony. He had drawn up a list of Chinese community leaders for execution by Japanese troops when they seized Rabaul. He would send the rest of the Chinese population to jungle camps to survive as best they could. For all he cared, they could all die of starvation and disease. He smiled at this thought. Cleansing New Guinea of Chinese, Australians and British appealed to him.

The future Japanese empire was only for Asians: the Europeans would be expelled – the Dutch from the Dutch East Indies, the French from Vietnam, the Americans from the Philippines, the British from India, Singapore and Malaya, and the Australians from Papua and New Guinea. The era of the domination and colonisation of Asia by the European barbarians would end and a new era, led by Japan, was about to be born.

He believed that the hour was fast approaching when Japan would achieve what Germany was achieving in Europe – the defeat of its enemies and the subjugation of the inferior races. All Germany had to do was finish off the British and defeat the Soviet Union. Japan would then destroy American and British navies and seize Asia. The Europeans and Americans would not bully Japan ever again. Japan would stand proud as the saviour of Asia for Asians and a new era of prosperity would begin.

He knew, as did many Japanese in high positions, that the moment for Japan to strike was imminent. The Europeans and Americans would slink back to their horrible little countries. Japan would unite all Asians – Thais, Chinese, Filipinos, Javanese, Vietnamese, and Koreans –under the Emperor.

Like many Japanese of this time, he greatly admired Hitler and he had read his stirring autobiography, _Mein Kampf_. When the war in Europe started, he cheered when the Germans took Poland in a matter of weeks. He celebrated with his friends when German armies swept into France and routed the French and British armies. The news that the Germans had chased the British out of Europe and the _Luftwaffe_ was bombing the British into submission sent him into raptures. Then came the news that the German army had invaded Russia, routing the Soviet armies and marching forward to Moscow. He believed it was only a matter of time before the flimsy communist state collapsed and Germany would be master of all Europe.

The moment of Japan's destiny was at hand. The victorious Imperial Japanese Army, hardened veterans of the China war, would sweep through Southeast Asia and chase out the British, Dutch and Australians. He gloated over this thought as he imagined it in every detail.

His only concern about the imminent attack on Southeast Asia was that the Japanese had not been able to subdue the Chinese. Despite years of war, despite the many victories, the Chinese continued to resist. The capture of China's capital Nanking and the resulting massacre of hundreds of thousands of Chinese civilians back in 1937 was a warning to other Chinese cities and towns that the same fate awaited them if they resisted the mighty Imperial Japanese Army. Every time the Japanese defeated a Chinese army and pushed deeper into the interior, another army appeared and put up a fight. He read that communist guerrillas had formed a formidable fighting force behind the lines and ambushed Japanese units. The casualty list of Japanese soldiers grew longer but he knew that Imperial Japan would prevail. China would eventually bow before the might of Japan. Japanese settlers would populate the fertile parts of China and they would drive the Chinese peasants into the interior to starve in the desert.

He was quick to defend Japan's shocking record of colonisation and atrocities in China. He viewed the Chinese as sub-humans who the Japanese needed temporarily as cheap labour but in the long term, they would make way for Japanese settlers. He argued that Japan was bringing technology and culture to the backwards Chinese and that eventually, the survivors would benefit from Japanese conquest.

The one nagging doubt he had about the forthcoming southwards offensive was the reaction of the USA. He did not fear America but he knew it had a powerful navy and air force. He knew that Japanese military leaders were planning a secret operation to destroy the US Navy at Pearl Harbour but he did not know when. He believed that Japanese sailors and pilots were far superior to American military personnel. Japanese aircraft carriers were state of the art, without equal. Japanese aircraft were technically superior to anything the Americans had. No, the Japanese would destroy the Americans navy and Japan would have a free hand in the Pacific. After the attack, the Americans would retreat to their country and not intervene in Europe or Asia. With their carrier fleet destroyed, they would have nothing to strike back with and they would negotiate a peace. The American public would demand that America stay out of a costly war. The US had stayed out of the war in Europe, and it would stay out of the war in Asia.

He decided to call a meeting of the 'birdwatching club' to prepare them for the imminent attack. He knew Milne's questioning would have unnerved them and he did not want them to panic and do something stupid. If Milne arrested the members of the ring, one of them might confess. The one he was most worried about was Friberg. He thought that Friberg had become involved with the group because he was in love with Helena and had never really believed in what they were doing. Both Jansen and Frickner had sworn to do what was necessary to defeat the Allies.

Tankara sent a message to Jansen that he wished to call a meeting at her house that evening. As the sun went down, he drove to the meeting. When he arrived, Friberg and Jansen crowded around him asking him whether they were about to be arrested. He reassured them that Milne knew nothing.

A few minutes later, the elusive Klaus Frickner arrived. He had a rifle over his shoulder and a pistol in his belt. He told them about his escape from Milne and Lawson when they tried to capture him. Tankara bowed and directed them to the lounge room. They sat at the table.

Tankara asked Frickner how Milne knew about his hideout.

"Someone must have told them where I was hiding." He stopped and looked at Friberg.

"I said nothing to them. Helena was there when they questioned me."

Helena confirmed that he had said nothing.

"Then it was that interfering British planter, Marsden. I'll fix him for reporting me." Frickner patted his pistol.

"No, we must not do anything to draw suspicion," said Tankara. "We will solve these problems later."

Frickner nodded reluctantly. "They chased me through the jungle and I outran them easily." He laughed. "They are pathetic old men. Good for nothing."

Servants brought platters of tropical fruit, bread, and coffee. After they had eaten, Jansen sent the servants away and told them to close the doors. Tankara stood up and bowed. "Thank you for meeting with me. All of you have served me well, collecting information on Australian troop numbers and dispositions. Soon our victorious armies will turn south. Japan and Germany have one united purpose; to defeat the Allies."

"We are surrounded by momentous events," interrupted Frickner. "Germany is victorious everywhere. France is ours, and the British tremble at German might. We will reduce their cities to ashes. In Africa, Greece and Crete, the British and their Australian lapdogs, flee before our victorious troops. Russia will soon fall into our hands."

Friberg looked worried. "This is not without risk. The Australians have interned many settlers and arrested others for spying. I fear what will happen if we are caught. I think we should not do anything more. We should get on with business and await events."

Frickner scoffed. "New Guinea belongs to Germany. Australia stole it after the last war and expelled our folk. Now we will take it back and nothing can stop us. Milne and Lawson are fools and amateurs. They were soldiers in the Great War and now they are shadows of their former selves. Lawson is a cripple who spends his time in the bar drinking and Milne walks around brooding on life. I spit on them." Frickner spat on the floor. "And the Australian soldiers! They look like they are on holidays. They stroll around the town and countryside ogling the women and making fools of themselves."

"They might be fools but I urge caution," said Friberg.

"Caution! Rubbish. Our Fatherland calls us. When Japan captures New Guinea, it will hand our former colony back to us. If we help Japanese forces, we will all be well rewarded."

This comment surprised Tankara. It showed how out of touch Frickner was. He was still fighting the last war. When Japan seized New Guinea, it would not give it back to Germany. No, it would become part of the Japanese dominated Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.

"Rewards will be no good if we are arrested and shot," said Friberg.

"We are not engaged in this fight only for glory and rewards. We fight for German honour. We must avenge our defeat in the last war."

Friberg shook his head.

Frickner looked at him contemptuously. He wondered why he wasted his time on such a low, cowardly man. "We will not get caught for spying, because by the time the Australians try to arrest us, the Japanese army will be here, and they will protect us. Is that not right, Mr Tankara?"

Tankara stood up and bowed. "Perhaps I can clear things up. Rabaul will be an important base for us in the war that is coming. We will look after all those who help us. Soon my friends, New Guinea will be free of the Australians and British."

"I will lay down my life for my Fuehrer," said Jansen, leaping to her feet. "I hate the Australians and dream about their defeat. Long live Germany! Heil Hitler!"

"The voice of a true patriot," said Frickner. "When the Japanese forces arrive, we will march triumphantly on Rabaul and kill all the Australian soldiers, those we spare will be our prisoners. Then we will imprison the Australian and British settlers. By then the Allies will be defeated in Europe, and Germany will be triumphant everywhere!"

Jansen nodded enthusiastically, but Friberg was unconvinced.

"What about Milne and Lawson?" he said. "They must suspect us otherwise they would not be questioning us. I do not want to be arrested."

"You have nothing to fear Mr Friberg," said Tankara. "If they knew what we were doing, they would have arrested us. But they know nothing."

"I've had enough," said Friberg. "I don't want any more involvement in this group. I just want to be left alone to manage the plantation."

Frickner started to pull out his pistol. "No one leaves the group, you traitor."

Tankara stood up between them. "Wait; let us not fall out when victory is so close. We do not wish to draw the attention of the authorities. Please, Mr Frickner if Mr Friberg wants to leave the group, we must let him."

Friberg, visibly shaken by Frickner's threat, scurried off. "I have things to do. I must go."

After the meeting, Tankara took Frickner aside. "We can't risk him going to the authorities. Not when we are so near victory. I trust you to deal with him." Frickner agreed and headed into the jungle, promising that the issue of Friberg would be resolved shortly.

### Chapter 24

The early morning call was from Edward Allen, the senior police officer in Rabaul. A plantation worker had discovered the body of a settler dumped in the jungle. Allen asked Milne to investigate the crime because the victim was Ingmar Friberg, a suspected member of the spy ring.

Milne and Lawson drove to the crime scene, ten kilometres south of Rabaul on the Kokopo road. They turned off the main road and followed a dirt track to a jungle clearing. Stepping out of the car into the bright, hot sunshine, they walked down the narrow jungle track towards the group of police standing around the corpse. Milne, wearing his militia uniform, brushed the flies from his face and back with a small branch from a tree overhanging the path. Lawson followed, a slouch hat pushed back on his head, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth and a pistol in his belt.

"Lovely smell," said Lawson "I reckon he's been dead a few days."

"This is one for you, Captain Milne," said Allen. "We've identified the man as Ingmar Friberg, a Swedish resident."

Milne nodded. "I spoke to him a week ago."

He looked over the corpse. The unmistakable sickly-sweet smell of death carried on the hot breeze. A bullet hole in his forehead. His contorted face had a greenish tinge, and his hair was matted and dirty. Mouth and eyes open, as if staring into the abyss. Maggots were already eating the body. Insects crawled all over his contorted body.

Milne got on his hands and knees and looked closely at the corpse. "No sign that he had been in a fight. Looks like an assassination." He asked the plantation worker who had found the corpse whether he had seen or heard anything. The witness said he had never seen the victim before and had not heard any shots in the last few days.

Milne searched the victim's pockets, but found nothing.

"A falling out between spies?" said Lawson.

Milne nodded. "No evidence of a struggle. His killer probably shot him elsewhere and dumped the body here. Let's have a look around the area. Then we'll see what Mrs Jansen has to say for herself."

"All yours then," said Allen, anxious to get away from the sickening smell. His men put the body on the back of their truck and returned to Rabaul.

The first thing Milne had to do was to establish that the murder was a falling out between spies and not a robbery. They walked along the track winding through the jungle searching for clues to a struggle. The trees thrust tall into the sky, some at gravity-defying angles, some straight up, some blackened by fire that swept through the forest from time to time. They left the track and walked across the dry forest floor, the leaves and bark cracking underfoot. Deeper in the jungle, the canopy shielded them from the intense heat and the cool shadows embraced them. Even the flies had retreated. They found no evidence that the murder of Friberg happened in the area.

They drove to Jansen's plantation. Parking near her house, they walked along a dirt road to the house. As they walked towards the house, Jansen stood on the verandah with a rifle watching them approach. "Oh, it's you again. What do you want?"

"Have you seen Mr Friberg recently?" asked Milne.

"No, he went into town a few days ago and I haven't seen him since. Why?"

"I have bad news. Mr Friberg is dead. Murdered."

She staggered and gripped the verandah railing. "It can't be...I saw him only a few days ago. No, it is not possible..." She collapsed on a chair and wept.

Lawson watched her with his eyebrows raised. He did not believe her little act.

"I need to ask you some questions about Mr Friberg, if you are up to it," said Milne.

She dabbed her tears and blew her nose. "Yes, I want to help you catch his killer. He was a good man and did not deserve to be murdered. Ask anything you want."

"When was the last time you saw Mr Friberg?"

She replied that three days ago he had driven into Rabaul to get supplies. When he didn't return that day, she assumed he had stayed over in town, which he often did. She started to worry about him this morning.

"Do you know anyone who might have wanted to kill him?"

"No, everyone liked him. He treated the plantation workers very well. But as you know, Mr Milne, these are dangerous times. There are robbers and bandits lurking in the jungles. Did you find his truck and supplies?"

Milne asked for a description of the truck, which she provided.

"That's all for now, Mrs Jansen. We will need to speak to you again."

They drove back to the crime scene but could not find any evidence that the truck had been in the area. This meant Friberg had been murdered somewhere else and his body dumped at the scene. They drove back to Rabaul and reported to the police about the missing truck. While the police conducted a search for the truck, they questioned the owner of the grocery store where Friberg purchased his supplies. He confirmed that Friberg had bought supplies three days before. He helped him load the goods in his truck and then Friberg drove to the Rabaul Hotel for a drink.

At the hotel, they asked staff if anyone had seen Friberg on that day. Two of the staff recalled seeing him drinking with a group of settlers. He had several drinks and then booked a room for the night. After questioning all the staff, they discovered that Friberg checked out the next day telling the manager that he was returning to his plantation. They asked Friberg's friends if they knew what might have happened to him but they were reluctant to help.

"Bloody natives done this," said one. "Everyone in town knew he had a month's supply of food in his truck. Savages."

"Why are you so convinced that natives did this?" asked Milne. "We found no evidence that the victim was attacked and robbed. He had a single gunshot wound to the head, consistent with an assassination."

He shrugged and muttered 'savages'.

"Have any of you heard the name Klaus Frickner before?" he asked, showing them his picture.

They all shook their heads and said they had never seen him before.

"We are loyal residents," said one. "We do not support the Germans. All of us are former citizens of Sweden, Holland and France."

Lawson asked if they knew of any residents who might have helped Frickner while he was on the run. All of them said they knew of no one who would help a spy.

Milne thanked them for their help. He and Lawson decided to have lunch and drinks in the bar.

"What do you reckon?" asked Lawson. "I didn't trust any of them."

Milne nodded. "Perhaps they are scared of Frickner. I reckon he murdered Friberg to keep him quiet. I just can't prove it."

As they drove back to headquarters, Milne turned the case over in his mind. The most likely explanation was that the members of the spy ring had fallen out with Friberg and decided to kill him. Thinking back, he recalled that Friberg was nervous and uneasy when questioned about espionage activity. His answers did not ring true whereas Jansen was cool and collected. But if the members of the network had murdered him, perhaps because they thought he was getting 'cold feet', why did they dump his body near a busy road where the killer knew it would be discovered? Why did the killer not try to bury the body? In fact, why not just dump it at sea. Was the killer sending a message to other members and sympathisers that this is what happens to traitors? Balanced against that was that the killer would have known that the colonial government had many other worries and would be unlikely to investigate the killing. Perhaps the killer assumed that the police would quickly lose interest in the case. This made it even more of a mystery – why would the killer risk drawing attention to himself. Milne thought that the ring panicked, fearing that he was about to arrest them, and that Friberg would 'spill his guts.' The timing was one giveaway – a week after he had questioned members of the network, one of them is murdered. It seemed too much of a coincidence. For the network to risk killing one of its own meant one thing – he was close and they had decided to silence Friberg.

Back at headquarters, Milne put a request to his commanding officer that he had enough evidence to bring Jansen and Tankara in for questioning but he denied his request, saying he was not in favour of wasting valuable time hunting down Friberg's killers. He told Milne to do the minimum on the case and put all his efforts into establishing and maintaining lookout posts above Rabaul to monitor Japanese vessels or planes entering the area.

The following day, the police found Friberg's truck abandoned in a jungle clearing on the outskirts Rabaul. Milne and Lawson, along with a police contingent, headed to the scene. The truck was empty. There was no blood in the truck cabin or in the back. However, there were signs of a struggle around the truck. This seemed to point to a robbery. As war approached, there had been increasing lawlessness outside the main towns on the island. There were reports of bandits attacking isolated plantations and robbing houses. Somewhere on his way home, Friberg may have stopped along the road and the killer shot him dead and robbed him.

"Looks like the killer murdered Friberg, emptied the truck and left it here," said Lawson.

Milne agreed that the crime was probably committed here, but if this was the case, why did the killer dump the body 20 miles away? Why did the killer not dispose of the body in the jungle where they found the truck? The other possibility was that the killer bailed up Friberg and abducted him. He then murdered him, put him in another truck and dumped his body by the side of the road. This seemed to be a likely explanation. Milne decided to talk to the hotel owner and Friberg's friends again and try to retrace his steps. If the hotel was the last place witnesses had seen Friberg alive, one possibility was that the killer murdered him in Rabaul or on the outskirts of the town.

They drove to the Rabaul Hotel and spoke to the owner again. He confirmed that Friberg had checked out on Wednesday morning telling him that he was taking his supplies back to the plantation.

"Did he seem concerned or worried about anything?" asked Milne.

"Mr Friberg was a very serious man. He spoke little and was not friendly. But he seemed the same as he always was – a man of few words."

Milne and Lawson spoke to Friberg's friends again. They all agreed that he was returning to his plantation on the morning of his disappearance, adding that he did seem more worried than usual but they put this down to the uncertainty and confusion created by the approach of war. One of his friends said that Friberg seemed fearful but did not say why. When Milne asked if Friberg was a spy, they all denied it, saying that he did not care for politics.

Milne returned to the office. His investigation had hit a dead-end. No witnesses had seen where Friberg went after he left Rabaul. There was only one good road from Rabaul to Kokopo and no witnesses saw him driving along this road.

He was thinking of shelving the case when he got a call from John Marsden, the English plantation owner who lived near the Jansen plantation. He had heard about the murder of Friberg and told Milne that he had seen Friberg return to the Jansen plantation a few days after he had left for Rabaul. This contradicted Jansen's testimony that he had not returned from Rabaul. Marsden added that the day before Friberg left for Rabaul, he was driving on the Kokopo road and saw a Japanese man drive by. Looking in his rear vision mirror, he saw him turn into the Jansen plantation. Milne thanked him. His statement had changed everything. Someone was lying and he suspected that it was Helena Jansen.

He hung up the phone and said to Lawson; "It appears that Friberg drove back to the plantation from Rabaul. Jansen said he did not return."

Lawson smiled. "We have her! What do you reckon – Friberg returns from Rabaul. That night Frickner and Jansen bump him off. Frickner drives the truck back to Rabaul with the body in the back, dumps it by the road, and then abandons the truck near Rabaul to put us off the scent. She probably followed in her car, and picked up Frickner."

"Possible...but we can't prove a thing, unless we use a little trick to say a witness has come forward and identified her and Frickner talking to Friberg on the night he disappeared. She might panic and confess."

They drove to Jansen's plantation house but she did not answer the door.

"Maybe she's pissed off into the jungle," said Lawson.

Milne peered through the front window but could not see her in the house. They walked around the back but there was no sign of her. Hearing voices, they walked towards a shed and saw her talking to a group of plantation workers.

She was not happy to see Milne for the third time. When she had finished talking to her workers, she walked over to them.

"What is it this time? I am still grieving for my friend. I wish to be left alone."

Milne said he wanted to talk to her about Friberg.

She nodded and they sat at a table on the back veranda.

"A witness has come forward and recalled seeing Mr Friberg returning from Rabaul in his truck on the day you claim he did not return and had 'disappeared.' Another witness saw you and another man, who we believe was Klaus Frickner, talking to Mr Friberg just before he disappeared. The witness has also stated that he saw Frickner driving the truck towards Rabaul late in the afternoon where he dumped it to make it look like a robbery."

"This is not true!"

Lawson stood up aggressively. "Which part? It's time to start talking. We'll go easy on you if you confess."

She shook her head and started to cry. "It has been very hard for me without Mr Friberg. He was my manager and my friend. I had no reason to kill him. I am telling the truth – he never returned from Rabaul. Someone is lying to you. I don't know Frickner but I have heard his name. I am innocent. I am trying to make a living."

"Why would someone lie to us?" demanded Milne.

"Perhaps the person who told you these lies murdered my friend and is trying to cover up for his crimes. Did you think of that? No, you are too busy persecuting a poor widow who has lost her friend. We were planning to marry. Why would I kill him?"

"Because you, Friberg, Tankara and Frickner are all part of a spy ring," shouted Lawson. "You fell out with Friberg and murdered him."

"No...no..." She put her face in her hands and wept.

"I don't think you actually did the killing but you know who did. It was Frickner. A witness saw him talking to Friberg. If you tell me who did it, I might allow you to remain on your plantation."

"How many times do I have to repeat it – I did not kill Mr Friberg. He did not return from Rabaul. The first I knew of his murder was when you told me. I don't know Frickner."

"The same witness who saw Mr Friberg talking to you on the night of his disappearance also said that the week before Mr Tankara visited your house. Why was he visiting?"

"I've explained this. He is a member of our birdwatching club. We were going on a birdwatching expedition in the jungle near Kokopo."

Milne took Lawson aside. "Stay where you are," he said, when she stood up thinking the interrogation was over. He and Lawson walked to end of the yard.

"We don't have anything linking her to murder," said Milne. "She's put up a better fight than I thought. Maybe she is innocent. Marsden may have been mistaken when he claims he saw Frickner driving the truck."

Lawson shook his head. "She's as guilty as hell. She did it all right. That innocent act doesn't work with me. I say we arrest her and get the truth out of her."

"No, we don't have enough yet. We'll put her in the car and talk to Marsden again."

When Milne told her to get in the car, she refused and backed away. "No! I have a plantation to run. Leave me alone. I have done nothing..."

Her plantation workers walked over shouting and calling to her. She called back saying she was being kidnapped.

Lawson pulled out his revolver and ordered them to stand back. They backed away but still called out to her.

"Don't make a scene; it won't help your case, Mrs Jansen. Come now. Get into the car."

She backed away; crying out, "Help! I'm being kidnapped."

Milne rushed forward and seized her. She put up a struggle but he twisted her arm behind her back and marched her to the car. Lawson covered the mob with his gun and warned them to stay back. They advanced demanding that Milne release her. Lawson fired in the air and they backed away. He backed over to the car and waited for Milne to get in the back seat with her. When he did, he jumped in the front and started the car. The mob crowded around them as they drove off.

"That was a stupid thing to do," Milne said to her. "What was the point? Now I know you were involved in Friberg's killing."

"No, I have to run my plantation. They will steal everything if I am not there. Please let me go. I have money."

Milne ignored her and told Lawson to drive to Marsden's plantation. While Lawson guarded her, Milne went in to talk to him again.

Marsden swore on the Bible that he had seen Friberg return to the plantation on the night he claimed.

"I told you she was lying," said Lawson when Milne told him what Marsden had said. He turned to her and said, "What an act. You and Frickner murdered him as sure as I'm sitting here."

"No, I'm innocent," she cried. "I'm being framed by Marsden. He's lying."

"We'll see," replied Lawson. "Captain Milne, can you go for a walk while I question her further."

Milne winked at Lawson and stepped out of the car.

"No, don't leave me with him. Wait." She bowed her head.

"Out with it," demanded Lawson.

"All right, Mr Friberg did return to plantation with the supplies. He and Mr Frickner had an argument. I went inside and heard a shot. When I came out, he was dead. Frickner said that if I did not do what he wanted, he would kill me. He unloaded the goods from the truck and drove to Rabaul. I followed him in the car. He dumped the body in the jungle and then he abandoned the truck in Rabaul. I picked him up near the truck."

Milne sat back down. "Why did Frickner kill Friberg?"

She hesitated.

"If you are prepared to make a written statement outlining everything you know, I might be lenient with you. But I want the truth, including everything about the spy ring."

"I'll tell you everything but I want your guarantee that you will release me."

Milne agreed and they drove back to headquarters.

She made a full confession but minimised her guilt. Yes, she said, Tankara was the head of the spy ring and Frickner was his enforcer. Friberg and others collected information about the Australian military for him. No, she added, she was not a spy. Frickner had threatened that if she did not cooperate, he would kill her. All she did was provide a place for the group to meet. She signed the confession.

Milne and Lawson grabbed their weapons and drove to Tankara's office to arrest him. But his office was closed and they headed for his residence. The car screeched to a halt in the driveway. They scrambled out, guns drawn and hammered on the front door. When Tankara did not answer the door, they smashed through the window and burst into the house. A terrified servant was standing in the hallway with his hands in the air asking them not to shoot.

"My master gone...my master gone..." he kept repeating.

There were signs that Tankara had fled in a hurry. There were clothes scattered about and papers lying all over the floor.

"How long ago?" asked Milne, pointing at his watch.

The servant shook his head saying he did not know.

Milne told the servant to leave and he and Lawson searched the house for incriminating documents. They split up and searched the various rooms.

"Over here," called Milne. "This door is locked, help me break in."

They shoulder-charged the door at the same time and the door flew open. The windowless room had a small desk, where a radio had probably sat, and a bookshelf. There were detailed maps of Rabaul and the surrounding area. Several landing points around the coast were marked on it.

"Look at this," said Lawson. He held up a diagram of the Rabaul waterfront, which showed gun emplacements and Japanese writing.

Amongst the papers, they found a list of residents the Japanese were to arrest and execute when they captured Rabaul. Both their names were on it.

"So that little scumbag has been drawing up lists of people to be shot!" shouted Lawson. "He goes around smiling and bowing to everyone, but all the time he's making it easier for his mates to capture Rabaul and execute the residents they don't like. He's a dead man."

They collected all the papers and diagrams they could find and took them to the car.

Driving back to headquarters, Milne walked in and found his commander and several senior officers in conference.

His ashen-faced commander said, "The Japanese attacked the American naval base at Pearl Harbour several hours ago. America and Australia have declared war on Japan."

### Chapter 25

Milne knew that it was only a matter of time before the Japanese tried to capture Rabaul.

A day after the attack on Pearl Harbour, a group of settlers gathered around the radio at his house listening to Prime Minister John Curtin's war speech:

" _Men and women of Australia...we are at war with Japan. This is the gravest hour of our history. We Australians have imperishable traditions. We shall maintain them. We shall hold this country and keep it as a citadel for the British-speaking race and as a place where civilisation will persist."_

Some settlers wanted to return to Australia while others said they would stay. A plantation owner from Kokopo said he would stay until it became clear the Japanese were going to attack Rabaul.

"Bloody hell," said Lawson. "Are you all living in fucking wonderland? The Japanese will attack. Best port in the area. And you can forget about your plantations – the Japanese will take those and you'll end up prisoners. And we all know how the Japs treat prisoners."

"It's not over yet," said another. "The Japs have to get down here. The British navy will stop them. They have the battle cruisers HMS _Prince of Wales_ and _Repulse_ patrolling the sea lanes, as soon as the Japs leave land, these ships will deal with them."

A Rabaul shop owner joined them saying he had heard that Curtin had ordered the immediate return home of Australian divisions fighting in North Africa. He added that these battle-hardened divisions would give the Japanese a sound thrashing if they came near Malaya or New Guinea.

"And how long before they get here?" demanded Lawson. "Bloody months. By then the Japs will be on top of us."

"What about you Francis?" asked a settler. "I hear Mary is setting up house in Sydney, are you going to join her?"

"No, not yet. I have some unfinished business. Tankara slipped through our fingers and I'm going find him if it's the last thing I do."

Lawson added, "And I'm not going anywhere. Me and Francis are going to stick it out."

A few days later, coast watchers spotted the first of many Japanese aircraft flying over Rabaul. Rumours flew around the town that an attack on Rabaul was imminent. Every day, more alarming news filtered in; a day after the assault on Pearl Harbour, the Japanese attacked Hong Kong and invaded Malaya. A day later, Japanese aircraft sank the _Prince of Wales_ and _Repulse,_ which was a huge blow to morale of the soldiers and settlers in Rabaul _._ Japanese troops overwhelmed the small American garrison on Guam the same day, and advanced south into Indo-China and Thailand.

Meanwhile, Milne's commanding officer ordered him to hunt down the spy network. Milne decided to use Jansen as bait to catch Frickner and Tankara. He threatened that unless she cooperated, he would charge her with spying which carried a long prison sentence in Australia. She agreed to cooperate and said that Frickner might be hiding on her plantation and she offered to show them all the places he might be.

They drove to Jansen's house, Lawson driving and Milne in the back seat with Jansen keeping an eye on her. He took the precaution of handcuffing her in case she tried something. She protested and begged but Milne refused to take the handcuffs off. They parked in the jungle near her house and peered through the foliage. There were no signs of activity. Lawson, gun in hand, walked towards the house while Milne remained with Jansen in the jungle. A few minutes later, he signalled to them.

"Everything is gone!" she cried, when she stepped into her empty house. "They took all the furniture and my clothes."

A plantation worker said that two days before, Frickner and Tankara had forced several workers to help them load up the car and truck with clothes, bedding and pots and pans, and then left, saying they would be back in a few weeks. They paid several men to guard her property but as soon as they had left, the local villagers had helped themselves to what was left of her property. Milne questioned her servants and one of them said that Frickner and Tankara might have gone to Toma.

They searched the plantation grounds. Milne kept hold of her while they were searching. She showed them a cottage, which was one of Frickner's hideouts. After searching the area around the plantation, they sought out John Marsden. He had not seen or heard anything suspicious in the area but he said everyone was preoccupied with the war.

"What will become of us if the Japanese come?" he asked Milne. "Should I leave the island?"

"I can't answer that," he replied. "Each person needs to decide what to do."

"My advice is to get out while you can," added Lawson. "Unless you intend to fight the Japs you should get back to Australia quick smart before Tojo arrives in town."

Marsden nodded and started making plans to exit New Guinea.

Milne and Lawson took Jansen back to Rabaul. While Jansen had been cooperative and minimised her guilt, there was no doubt in their minds that she had engaged in espionage.

"The question now, Mrs Jansen, is what we are to do with you," said Milne back at HQ. Lawson sat opposite her with a smirk. As far as he was concerned, there was no question of her guilt.

She bowed her head admitting she had done wrong but she had not engaged in spying activity. It was all Frickner, Friberg and Tankara. She said she was in love with Friberg and supported him but did not know about the spying. As she minimised her role in the network, she wept tears of remorse at the loss of her lover, her property and her freedom.

Lawson leaned forward, "You must think we were born yesterday. What a load of crap you are telling us. You are a spy. We have enough evidence to charge you with espionage."

"Please, you must believe me. I'm innocent. I knew nothing about what they were doing. They used me as cover and threatened to kill me if I reported on them."

"If you help us, we might reduce the charges, but you will be deported to Australia for internment as an enemy alien."

She looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'll help in any way I can."

Milne asked where in Toma Tankara might be hiding. She replied that her husband had owned a house and land on the edge of the town. They often went there to escape the tropical heat of the lowlands. She gave him the exact location of the house.

Milne placed her in custody and recommended to his commander that the military deport her to Australia for internment. His commander agreed and she was imprisoned pending deportation.

They drove to Toma, parked near the house and hid in the trees to watch. The house appeared to be uninhabited. An hour after they staked out the house, they saw Tankara's servant walk out the back door, hang washing and go back inside.

"What do you reckon?" asked Milne. "Tankara and Frickner might be inside." He pulled out his gun and walked slowly to the back of the house while Lawson covered him. Milne pushed the door open and pointed his gun at the servant.

"Where's Frickner and Tankara?"

He stood staring at Milne, a look of terror on his face.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Where are they?"

He pointed into the room at the front of the house. Milne called in Lawson and asked him to cover the servant. He crept into the front room and saw Tankara lying asleep on the couch. He called Lawson in. Milne motioned to him to search the rest of the house to find Frickner but he was not there. Lawson walked over to Tankara and pushed him with his foot.

"What is it...I'm trying to ..." He turned and saw Lawson pointing his gun at his head.

Milne stepped forward. "You are under arrest for espionage."

Tankara sat up rubbing his eyes. He did not seem worried, and declared his innocence arguing that he fled from Rabaul after the attack on Pearl Harbour because he feared the authorities would intern him. He denied spying on the Australian military.

"Search him," said Milne.

Lawson walked over to Tankara and said, "Stand up and don't try anything."

Tankara stood up put his hands in the air.

He roughly searched him. "Thought you'd get away with it did you? You'll be lucky if we don't shoot you on the spot."

"Don't move or you're both dead," said a voice behind them. "Throw your guns on the floor and put your hands up."

Milne looked over his shoulder. It was Klaus Frickner pointing a rifle at them. Milne realised that if he turned to shoot, Frickner would kill him and Lawson. They threw their weapons down.

Tankara picked up their guns. He laughed. "What fools you Australians are. What amateurs. If this is the best that your pathetic government sends against the might of Japan, your insignificant little country will soon belong to us. Yes, I am a spy. You have found out my little secret. But it will do you no good because your world is about to change forever."

"What does that mean?" demanded Lawson.

"The Imperial Japanese Army will be here soon and your society will be dead."

"Enough talking, I say we kill them," said Frickner. "I have waited a long time to finish you off, Milne." He pointed his rifle at his head.

Tankara pushed the barrel away. "No, this will bring the police and the army on us. Put supplies in the car, tie them up and destroy their car so they can't follow. By the time they manage to escape, we will be far away."

"You won't get away with this," said Milne. "We will hunt you down."

Frickner laughed as he tied them up roughly. "Pathetic old men. You have failed so far. Soon my Japanese friends will be here and we Germans will take back New Guinea."

While Tankara covered them with Milne's pistol, Frickner loaded the supplies into the car. When all was ready, they drove off.

It took them several minutes to free themselves. When they dashed outside, Tankara and Frickner were long gone, and Milne's car had been incapacitated.

They walked to the nearest army base to raise the alarm. Soldiers helped them search the area but the trail went cold. Milne had to return to headquarters and explain how he and Lawson had been disarmed and tied up allowing the spies to escape.

Milne would have spent the next week searching for Frickner and Tankara but he had other matters to attend to. Since the declaration of war on Japan, the Japanese had pressed their advantage southwards. Their soldiers moved quickly and skilfully overwhelming their opponents with ruthless efficiency. Hong Kong had fallen into their hands as had Indo-china and Thailand. They swarmed into the Philippines and headed for Manila. Japanese reconnaissance planes flew over New Guinea regularly. In the New Year, reports came in that the Japanese were advancing into Malaya, heading for Singapore. New Guinea was rapidly becoming the front line in the battle for Australia.

Milne's commander asked him to prepare a report on how best to defend Rabaul and New Guinea against Japanese infantry attack.

Since the Japanese advance, Milne had gathered information on Japanese infantry tactics. He assumed that the Japanese infantry would land along the coast at several points around Rabaul and hit the Australian defensive positions at several points simultaneously. In this way, they would envelop Australian infantry positions causing confusion and a breakdown of military order. If they came against a strongly defended position, they would attack from the flanks and the rear. If this failed to overwhelm the position, they would send in a massive frontal assault to take the Australian defenders by surprise. The Japanese were adept at using darkness, jungle, smoke or fog as cover to overwhelm their enemy.

Milne concluded that the most effective way to defend against this was for the Australian infantry to build defensive positions away from the coast on higher open ground where the Japanese infantry would have difficulty encircling their positions. Secondly, he argued that well placed artillery and tanks could prevent the Japanese getting around the flanks.

He argued that Lark Force, with less than two thousand infantry, was not large enough to defend the extensive coastline of New Guinea. He knew the best the defenders could achieve would be to delay the Japanese takeover of New Guinea – not stop it. To defend this coastline would require 2 well-equipped divisions, several artillery pieces, tanks, and at least 50 planes to disrupt Japanese landing operations.

He also drew on his own experiences during the Australian capture of Rabaul in 1914. The German military defending Rabaul knew they were outnumbered and could not defend Rabaul effectively. They opted to pull their military back from the coast and use the jungle to ambush the Australian soldiers as they advanced. In this way, the Germans were able to delay their inevitable defeat and go down fighting.

He recommended that Lark Force establish a defensive line in the highlands and establish supply bases on the northern coast. The Australian navy could supply the defenders with food and ammunition. He also argued that some canned food from the vast food stores in Rabaul be hidden in strategic location around the island to enable small units to hold out and wage guerrilla warfare against the Japanese. This would delay the Japanese capture of the island and inspire the Australian population to fight on.

He also recommended that the army evacuate the remaining Australian and British settler population and send them to Australia. The settlers would get in the way of military operations and risked massacre by Japanese troops.

He handed his report in and it disappeared into the army machinery.

Milne and Lawson met at the Rabaul Hotel one night for a drink. The bar was full of settlers and administration staff discussing the advance of the Japanese army. Some settlers believed that the combined American, Australian and British navies would defend Rabaul from the Japanese. Others said the Americans would be 'mad as hell' after the Pearl Harbour attack and quickly defeat the Japanese. The deputy Administrator, Harold Page, arrived to address the settlers and stood on a makeshift stage appealing for silence.

"What the hell is going on?" demanded a shop owner. "Should we be evacuating Rabaul?"

Page appealed for silence. "That's a military matter. I have a major announcement. A ship will be arriving next week to evacuate all Australian and British women and children."

"Can't we all go?" asked a settler.

"Only cowards run away," shouted several settlers.

"Yeah, even if they get through our defences, the Japanese won't dare harm us," said another.

"You bloody drongos!" shouted Lawson. The audience fell silent. "You think this is a bloody holiday? You think the Japanese are going to come here, pat you on the back and tell you to get on with it. No way mate."

"So are you running?" said someone up the back, anxious to avoid identification.

"Who fucking said that? Cliff Lawson don't run from no one, especially a bloody Jap! I'm staying and whoever said that I'll bash you, you bastard."

This caused uproar as various factions debated whether to stay or go.

Milne stood up and appealed for silence. Because of the respect for his war service and standing in the community, the rowdy audience fell silent. "I think its good advice to encourage the women and children to leave. My wife and daughter are in Sydney."

While the audience were debating whether to stay or go, Lawson and Milne hurried to Milne's house to talk to Freda about leaving with the other women and children.

"Pack your bags, woman, you are off to Australia," said Lawson as he walked up the stairs.

"What are you talking about, man?" she demanded.

"The Government has ordered all Australian women and children to leave. A ship is arriving soon to take you to Australia."

"Don't be silly," she replied. "We've talked about this – I'm staying."

"Don't be foolish, the order to evacuate the women and children means the Japanese are about to attack Rabaul."

"Let them come, we'll be on our plantation on the other side of the island. If they come, we'll hide. And anyway, who'll look after you if I'm gone? You can't even look after yourself."

"Bloody hell woman, don't you listen to me?"

"I am listening, and I've told you – I'm staying."

Lawson rolled his eyes. He could see that he was not going to win this argument.

"If we're all staying, we need to plan," said Milne. "We have to expect that the Japanese will capture Rabaul in the next few weeks, but they'll have little interest in the rest of the island. If we have plenty of supplies and stay on your plantation in the hills, we can report to headquarters in Australia on what the Japanese are doing. We have a couple of radios, and we know the country well around there."

"We'll need plenty of quinine, tinned food, whisky and gin...beer," said Lawson. "I can lay my hands on that, no worries."

Milne, Lawson and Freda sat by the radio as Prime Minister Curtin addressed the nation. He called on all Australians to fight the Japanese who were threatening to invade Australia. He also announced that Australia would look to the US for support and leadership against Japan. He said:

" _Without any inhibitions of any kind, I make it clear that Australia looks to America, free of any pangs as to our traditional links or kinship with the United Kingdom. We know the problems that the United Kingdom faces. We know the dangers of dispersal of strength, but we know too, that Australia can go and Britain can still hold on. We are, therefore, determined that Australia shall not go, and we shall exert all our energies towards the shaping of a plan, with the United States as its keystone, which will give to our country some confidence of being able to hold out until the tide of battle swings against the enemy."_

A day later, Milne received a tip off from John Marsden that he had seen Frickner near Kokopo. Although Milne had other things to occupy his mind, he had not given up the search for Tankara and Frickner. They hurried to Kokopo and met John Marsden at his plantation. He said he had seen Frickner heading for Jansen's plantation. Assuming he was going to his hideout, they waited in the jungle for him to make a move. They saw Frickner walking along the track with a wallaby he had just shot over his shoulder.

Milne stepped out of the jungle and pointed his pistol at Frickner's head. "Give yourself up, Frickner. Drop your gun."

"Go to hell," he shouted as he pulled his pistol out of his belt.

Lawson, who was standing behind Milne, fired and hit Frickner in the chest. He fell backwards still struggling to aim his pistol. Lawson shot him again. Frickner dropped his gun and cursed them both as he died.

They searched the area but did not find Tankara. Placing the body in the boot, they returned to Rabaul to report in.

Arriving home, he had a letter from Mary. She urged him to return to Australia saying that she and Susan missed him dreadfully. They had fixed up the house and Susan was going to a local school. She ended the letter begging him to come home, saying that she needed him and Susan was growing up without him. He wrote back saying that he still had work to do but that everything was going well. He thought that the Japanese might not attack Rabaul but if they did, Lark Force was more than capable of defending it. He wrote that Cliff and Freda were both well but that Freda had refused to return to Australia. She was determined to stay with Cliff no matter what.

Even as he wrote, he could hear Japanese aircraft bombing targets in and around Rabaul. Rumours were flying thick and fast that the feared Japanese invasion was imminent. Alarming news arrived that the Japanese army had overwhelmed Dutch forces and were advancing through Sumatra and Java. In Malaya, British and Australian troops were falling back in the face of fierce Japanese infantry and air attacks.

All through this time, they ferried supplies to the Lawson's plantation on the north coast at Ataliklikun Bay. The plantation sat on a low plateau, almost buried in thick jungle. A river supplying plentiful fresh water all year round ran near the house.

Sako and his wife Tomina, indigenous New Guineans, managed the plantation. Milne hoped that if Japanese troops did come to the plantation, they would allow Sako to remain. The plantation consisted of a large plantation house, two copra-drying sheds, and two cottages. The house had several rooms, and a covered verandah. Over the years, Lawson had added more rooms to store supplies and equipment. The grounds of the house included extensive vegetable gardens, which Tomina tended, and grazing fields for cattle and sheep. The plantation was self-sufficient in water; they had rigged up an irrigation system from the nearby spring, which supplied plentiful fresh water all year round.

The house backed onto a large rock formation where there was a network of caves. They used the caves to store food, water, weapons and ammunition. The labyrinth of tunnels also provided hiding places should the Japanese come looking for them. They built a lookout on top of the rocks, which provided a 360-degree view across the surrounding countryside.

The countryside surrounding the plantation was rugged. Although not far from Rabaul, thick jungle, fast flowing rivers, and swamps made travel difficult for the unwary and impossible for soldiers with heavy equipment. A dirt road ran from the plantation to the main road. They could drive their cars along this road when the ground was dry. A narrow mountain track led down from the plateau to the cliffs above the sea, and they had built steps so they could climb down to a river inlet where they kept a small boat for fishing.

There were several caves in the sea cliffs, and Lawson had turned one of the caves into a coastwatching post complete with a two-way radio.

As a group, they were resourceful and skilled in surviving in the tropics. They knew which plants they could safely eat, where to find water, and how to catch fish. They could turn a small area of ground into a productive tropical garden to grow sweet potatoes, corn and lettuce. They also knew that they could rely on trade with nearby villagers. Amongst the goods they transported to the plantation were cloth, axes, knives and scissors, tobacco, shovels, picks, hurricane lamps, cooking pots, and utensils, nails and hammers, and needles.

The support of the local villagers was critical for their survival. Over many years, Lawson and Freda had cultivated good relations with the local clan, employing members on the plantation, and trading farm tools for vegetables and fish. The clan living in the area were a peaceful people who treated them as friends.

By late January, they had hauled all their supplies to the plantation, and stored them in the caves behind the house. The supplies of dried and tinned food, supplemented with homegrown vegetables, hunting and fishing would allow them to live reasonably well for a year.

When all was ready, Milne and Lawson returned to Rabaul.

### Chapter 26

Lawson and Milne were having a drink at the Rabaul Hotel when a sergeant from the New Guinea Volunteer Rifles arrived and ordered all members of the militia to get their uniforms and form up on the parade ground.

"What gives Sarge, are the Japs coming?" asked Lawson.

"No, this is just an exercise to test our readiness."

"I reckon the Japanese are about to land," said an old soldier, "We'll shoot the bastards down as they come ashore."

After a hurried meal, the officers divided the militia into two groups; one group climbed into two trucks, and drove to the Lakunai airfield where they were to undertake guard duty. The other group marched to the beach to man the defensive positions. Milne and two other soldiers headed to the hills above Vulcan beach to take up their positions in the observation posts. In the gathering dark, Milne looked down towards the beach noticing that there were no proper trenches for the infantry. Several Japanese aircraft flew over his position and bombed targets around Rabaul. The bombings destroyed the coastal guns.

He scanned the ocean for the invasion force. Near midnight, another member of the militia who operated an observation post nearby joined him. Settling in for the night, they took turns scanning the sea for Japanese ships. He heard what he thought was thunder. January was the monsoon season so it was common to hear thunder. He pulled the groundsheet over his head preparing for rain, but the thunder was becoming louder and louder. He looked at his watch. It was 2.30 a.m. He looked out to sea and he could see several dark shapes. Raising the alarm, he kept an eye on the invasion force as the sky lit up with flashes.

Standing up, he looked up the channel and saw several warships and troop carriers crowded into Simpson Harbour. Peering through his binoculars, a flash revealed the flag of the Rising Sun. He gave up trying to count how many dark shapes sat in the harbour and at the entrance. The warships were battering the coastal defences, and smaller vessels were disgorging hundreds of Japanese troops on the beach. He could hear the rattle of machine guns, and small arms fire. He was glad he was not on the beach. It was an overwhelming force, and the defenders did not stand a chance. Australian troops put up a wall of fire, but the Japanese quickly overran the thinly held trenches, and fanned out inland.

He decided to join Lawson's unit on the beach, which had not yet come under attack.

"Welcome me old mate," said Lawson, a cigarette hanging out the corner of his mouth. "We're still working on reinforcing our trench. I reckon the Japs will be here in a few minutes."

They heard the sound of battle on the other side of the harbour. They strained their ears and could hear the distant rumbling of motors. The noise was getting louder. Lawson peered into the gloom but could not see anything until a flare lit up the sea to reveal several grey landing craft lumbering towards the beach.

They opened up with machine-guns and rifles as Japanese infantry poured out of the landing barges. The intense fire forced the Japanese back into their barges, but they landed further south of their position, glided onto the beach and stormed out. All along the beach, militiamen and infantry had opened fire with machine guns, rifles and mortars. When their frontal assaults could not overrun the Australian positions, the Japanese outflanked them. Japanese infantry continued landing along the coast, reinforcing those already ashore. They probed the flanks of the defences and rolled up the Australian front. More Japanese troops hurried inland, and threw up roadblocks to trap retreating soldiers.

Most of the soldiers in Lawson's trench were dead. They kept up a furious fire to prevent the Japanese overrunning the trench and killing the survivors. What was left of the unit was at risk of the Japanese outflanking them, so they fell back to the road running behind the beach. Lawson and Milne took cover in a thick clump of bush with three younger soldiers from the battalion.

"We should make a dash for it," said one of the soldiers. "You two old timers will have to stay here, you'll slow us down."

"Wait and see where the Japs are before breaking cover," said Milne.

The young soldier laughed and encouraged the others to keep moving. The moment they broke cover, a flurry of shots knocked them over. Lawson and Milne lay down and played dead. A squad of Japanese soldiers checked the bodies for life. Milne heard two shots. A Japanese soldier walked towards their hiding place, but an officer shouted something, and the soldier re-joined his unit and charged into the jungle.

Looking at the sky, Milne realised they had to get moving before daylight. They reasoned that the Japanese were already in Rabaul so they headed south towards Kokopo. As they dashed down the narrow track, they ran into groups of Australian troops trying to form up. Mingled among them were Japanese soldiers, who had penetrated the rear areas. Lawson and Milne kept moving south.

They met a group of determined soldiers led by an officer, and fell in with them. A young blonde soldier, nicknamed Snowy, said they were heading south to Tunakanau airfield where headquarters was establishing a new Australian defensive line. As they pressed on, the Japanese opened fire from cover, splitting them into small groups. The Japanese were in front and behind them.

Lawson, Milne, Snowy and 2 other soldiers dashed into the jungle and took cover behind a rock. Lawson told them not to move. They lay still as a large squad of Japanese soldiers walked within a few meters of their hiding place. When the Japanese had gone, they debated what they should do.

"You two look like you know what you're doing, I reckon we should stick with youse," said Snowy.

"I don't know about you blokes," said Milne, "but me and Lawson don't intend to become prisoners of the Japanese. This battle is lost, but we'll live to fight another day."

"Count me in," replied Snowy.

Milne said they should lie still and get a feel for the flow of the battle and when it was clear, they should head south. When the battlefield fell silent, they jumped up and ran into the surrounding jungle where they nearly collided with two Japanese soldiers setting up a machine gun. After a brief fight, they bludgeoned them with their rifles and then bayoneted them. Dashing further into the jungle, they met Australian soldiers trying to form a defensive line amidst the chaos. A large unit of Japanese burst out of the jungle firing at them. The defenders were behind cover, whereas the Japanese were in the open. There was a fierce battle, and the surviving Japanese scattered into the jungle, took cover and fired back. In the battle, a bullet struck Snowy, killing him instantly. The other two soldiers died in a hand grenade blast. Lawson and Milne were the only survivors and pressed on. They emerged on a main road. Trucks and vehicles of all types were speeding past, heading for the road junction called Four Ways. They saw a couple of soldiers strolling along and asked them where everyone was going.

"Ain't you heard, mate? Colonel Scanlan gave the order that it is every man for himself. Everyone is heading for Toma to get away from the Japs."

"My legs won't go much further," said Lawson, as they walked by the side of the road watching trucks speeding by.

They found an abandoned truck by the side of the road. The driver was slumped over the wheel, blood dripping down his face from a head wound. The back of the truck was loaded with military equipment and food. They lay the dead driver by the side of the road and set off at top speed, picking up other soldiers who hailed them, and swerving to avoid the wreckage of war. At Four Ways junction, they fell in behind a determined group of soldiers packed into four trucks, speeding down the road.

The rising sun revealed a scene of utter chaos. Japanese aircraft swept overhead strafing anything that moved, turning the road to Toma into a killing field. Burnt trucks, abandoned equipment and dead bodies littered the road. Some soldiers were pressing on up the road, diving for cover when Japanese planes swooped over, while others had decided to stay and surrender. These troops sat by the road, exhausted, many of them wounded.

Into this muddle, Milne and Lawson drove in convoy. The convoy shot up the road, ignoring the Zeros overhead. Milne was driving at a breakneck speed on the tail of another truck. As a Zero swooped in to machine gun the convoy, Lawson fired his gun and swore at the plane. The soldiers on the back of the truck joined in. More Zeros swooped in and bullets sprayed all around them. The driver in front braked suddenly, and Milne could not stop in time. He ploughed into the back of the truck, and both tipped over and rolled down an embankment into a ditch.

Milne dragged himself out of the cabin, shaken but not seriously wounded. He found Lawson in the ditch, conscious but with a bad cut on his head. Helping him up, the two friends limped back to the truck to help the others. The Zeros swept in, machine-gunning the survivors as they staggered towards the road. Milne and Lawson dived into a ditch and watched the planes attack a convoy further up the road.

They joined a group of soldiers and continued on foot, hoping to get a lift. As they came to a bend in the road, a squad of Japanese soldiers had thrown up a roadblock. They traded fire with them until a truck going at full speed tore by and drove over the top of the Japanese. The driver lost control, and the truck crashed off the road and exploded. Lawson and Milne pushed on, passing burning trucks and bodies.

More trucks ran the gauntlet, and one picked them up. There were thirty soldiers squeezed on the truck, clinging on for dear life, the driver swerving all over the road to avoid the attacking aircraft.

They arrived in Toma at midday. There were hundreds of soldiers milling around the town, waiting for orders. The invasion had been so overwhelming; everyone was in a state of shock. More trucks were pouring into Toma some full of soldiers, some with food and supplies. Groups of soldiers sat in the shade of trees resting. They opened cans of beef and made tea.

As the afternoon wore on, soldiers arriving in Toma told harrowing tales of terrible battles around Rabaul, warning that the Japanese were close behind, and would be in Toma by late afternoon. An officer confirmed that further resistance was useless, and each soldier should decide whether to surrender or escape.

Groups of determined soldiers loaded up with supplies set off; some across the top of the island making for Open Bay, others headed south to Wide Bay, all hoping the Australian navy would pick them up.

Milne and Lawson headed for Lawson's north coast plantation where they had food and weapons stashed. The plantation was a three-day walk from Toma. They hitched a ride on a truck until it ran out of petrol. The other soldiers with them pushed on saying they would see them later. Sitting by a stream just off the road, they rested and ate a tin of bully beef.

"What a bloody waste, all this food and we can't take it with us," said Lawson, waving towards the tins of bully beef loaded on the back of the truck.

They heard another truck approaching and were about to flag it down for a lift when Milne yelled; "Bloody hell, Japanese!"

They grabbed their gear and took off into the jungle. Milne saw a ridge ahead, and they scrambled to the top and rolled over the ledge. They hid behind the thick bush on the ridge, and peered down. A squad of Japanese soldiers crept across the jungle floor following their tracks along the stream. They lay still for several agonisingly slow minutes, hearing the occasional snap of a twig. At last, they heard the Japanese leaving and getting back in their truck.

A few minutes later, another truck loaded with Japanese soldiers sped by. It stopped, reversed to the broken down truck and loaded the cans of bully beef into their truck. The Japanese soldiers laughed and joked as they loaded the booty.

"Pity we can't shoot the little bastards," said Lawson.

"The Japanese will be watching the road," said Milne, "we'll have to hike through the jungle."

They worked out a route back to the north coast plantation and headed into the jungle following tracks used by hunters. The ground was wet and slippery underfoot and to add to their misery, it started raining, turning the jungle streams into gushing torrents. They moved up a slope to higher ground. It was getting dark by the time they emerged into flat country. They saw a cluster of huts in the distance and decided to seek shelter. The villagers became aware of their approach, and several warriors, armed with spears and bows and arrows, walked towards them. Milne called out in Pidgin English that they were seeking shelter for the night. The headman approached to look them over. Milne sensed that he did not welcome their arrival. The headman asked them to wait while he talked to the village elders.

The headman returned and said they were welcome to stay if they could pay. Milne agreed and gave him a few shillings. The headman showed them to a hut, and said they were welcome to join him around the fire for something to eat. Milne thanked him and said they would rest and join him soon.

They took off their wet clothes and hung them around the hut to dry. The rain had stopped.

"They didn't look too happy to see us," said Lawson.

"No, we'd better stay on alert tonight."

After resting, they dressed and walked to the fire. The night was cool, and a chilly wind blew down the valley. The headman invited them to sit on mats by the fire. A villager handed them each a plate of fruit and a bowl of taro pudding. The villagers stood watching them as if they were aliens from another world.

They ate in silence, hearing only the crackle of the fire. When they had finished eating, the headman talked rapidly, a mix of Pidgin and his own dialect. The gist of it was that he had been on a hunting expedition when he met a Japanese patrol looking for escaping Australian soldiers. The Japanese told him that the Australians were finished in New Guinea and they must not protect escapees, hinting that if they did, reprisals would follow.

Milne assured him that they would be gone in the morning, and thanked him for his hospitality. They returned to their hut. Once inside, Milne thought that perhaps they were unduly concerned. The headman was obviously fearful that if he helped them, the Japanese might arrest him. They bedded down for the night, keeping their guns at hand. The wind blew through the hut, making a mournful howling sound. Milne fought against sleep, but the events of the day weighed on him. He could hear Lawson snoring. Slowly, his eyes closed and he drifted off.

Milne sprang awake after a few hours sleep. "Come on, Lawson, time to go."

Lawson moaned and said his legs had gone numb.

"Good, they won't hurt when you're walking."

Milne went to find the headman to thank him for putting them up for the night. He walked from hut to hut, but they were empty. Their hosts had gone.

"I think we should bugger off quick smart," said Lawson. "The headman might have gone to inform the Japs about us."

They packed up hurriedly, checked the map, and headed into the valley. Descending the slope, they came out on the valley floor, which was hot and humid after the cool of the hills. They walked along the track as quickly as they could. However, within ten minutes, Lawson could not keep up the pace. Milne was anxious, worried that they would run into a Japanese patrol. He heard voices ahead, and pulled Lawson into a clump of trees.

A band of hunters emerged from the jungle on the edge of the valley and walked towards them. "Let's hope they're on our side," said Milne, stepping out from the undergrowth and hailing them. The leader said he would help them. He warned that there were Japanese patrols covering the main tracks this side of the Keravat River. Milne told him where they heading, and the leader offered to put them on the right track. He and Lawson followed the hunters along a labyrinth of narrow paths winding through rough, hilly country. The hunters pointed to a wide path running through the jungle. They said goodbye to their friends, and sat down to rest.

"If we keep up the pace, we could be home tonight," said Milne.

Lawson groaned as he lay down. "I've got aches on my aches."

"One last big effort and you get to rest up at the house."

Lawson staggered to his feet. "Come on, let's move it."

They set out again, walking down the slope, which was a welcome relief. Milne said that if the path was a major track for travellers, the Japanese might watch it for escaping soldiers and civilians. He became more wary, straining his eyes and ears to scan the path ahead. Lawson had fallen behind again, and Milne tried to take his arm to help him. Lawson pushed his hand away and told him not to fuss over him, saying Freda was always going on about his delicate condition.

Milne laughed. "Remember the march to the Hindenburg Line? You could march twenty miles without blinking back then."

"Yeah, back then...before that bloody shell hit me."

Talking kept Lawson's mind off his aches and pains. They chatted about the war, life and business as they trudged on through the jungle. Milne picked and ate edible leaves and berries. He began to feel tired and feverish as his old demon, malaria, flared up again. He feared his body was about to seize up, but he thought that if they stopped, Lawson might not get going again. Wading across a narrow stream, they took gulps of water as they went, and splashed water on their faces. The sun blazed down through the canopy. Sweat poured from them, but still they pressed on. Milne recognised landmarks; he knew they were near Lawson's plantation. They came to the Keravat River, and rested in the shade of a clump of trees.

"We'll stay here for a while, make sure there are no Japanese about," said Milne.

He was about to walk down to the river to check on a river crossing when he heard voices.

"Someone is coming," said Milne.

Lawson's eyes shot open and he leaned on his elbow. They peered through the bushes and saw a group of Australian soldiers emerging from the jungle on their left and walking towards the river. Milne wondered if he should call out to them, but hesitated.

"My God, they're walking about in the open...."

The rattle of rifle and machine gun fire burst through the jungle. Bullets hit two of the party, and three others tried to run back towards the jungle. A squad of Japanese soldiers appeared and fired into the jungle. The three men staggered out with their hands up. The Japanese took them prisoner and disappeared from view.

"That could have been us," said Milne. "They must have a post nearby to catch stragglers. We'll have to push further inland where the river is unguarded."

Lawson groaned. "Just what I need, another long walk, let's go before I can't move."

They retraced their steps along the path and then turned further inland. It was now late afternoon and it was a little cooler. Lawson drew on his last reserves of energy. The river narrowed, and Milne told him to wait in the jungle while he checked the river for a crossing. Walking back to Lawson, he said they could cross here. The water was knee deep. The crossing had a high riverbank, which provided them with some cover. Wading across, they clambered up the opposite bank and headed for the jungle. The detour had added hours to their journey, and they would have to spend another night in the jungle. They walked on in the gathering dusk, finally resting beneath a large tree. Taking turns to watch and sleep, they spent an exhausting night waiting for first light. The sounds of the jungle lulled them to sleep for a few minutes at a time. They had nothing to eat other than a few berries and leaves. As soon as the sun appeared, they set out, determined to make the last leg of the journey as quickly as possible.

A few hours later, Milne saw the plateau rising from the jungle. The plantation was near. Lawson laughed as they climbed the hill. In the distance, they saw the house. Sako was standing on the verandah watching them approach. He called to Freda, and she rushed onto the verandah wiping her hands on her apron. She ran down to meet them, throwing her arms around Lawson and kissing him.

Milne and Lawson went into the house and washed. They sat down to lunch. Freda had made a stew, which they washed down with mugs of milky tea fortified with whiskey. Over lunch, they described the events in Rabaul, the landing of the Japanese and the retreat of the Australian army.

Sako said that the day before, he had seen retreating Australian troops, followed closely by Japanese troops patrolling the north coast area. Japanese navy ships shelled some plantation houses, and put landing parties ashore to search the area. A large Japanese patrol marched into the plantation. Freda hid in the caves while Sako spoke to the patrol leader, explaining that he ran the plantation for another man, but now, since the Japanese had arrived, the plantation belonged to him. He added that he was glad the Japanese had taken over. The officer told him he could stay on his plantation. The soldiers searched the plantation house and the surrounding jungle and returned to their ship.

"Well done, Sako," said Milne. "The Japanese are mainly along the Keravat River, catching our soldiers when they try to cross. I expect they will establish garrisons along the river and near the coast. Hopefully, they won't come here again."

### Chapter 27

Two days after Japanese troops captured Rabaul, Tankara emerged from hiding to take over internal security for the island. He stood on the wharf smiling as thousands of Japanese soldiers swarmed into Rabaul.

He set up headquarters in central Rabaul near the wharf. He commanded a squad of soldiers, all hardened veterans of the China war, to enforce his authority. His role was to intern all Australian and allied civilians, and to capture and imprison surviving Australian soldiers who had escaped from Rabaul. He revelled in his role. He derived great satisfaction watching his men kick and punch the captured Australian civilians and soldiers as they unloaded stores and equipment from ships. The day he had planned and longed for had arrived – the Imperial Japanese forces were victorious everywhere. The navy had destroyed most of the American fleet at Pearl Harbour and had sunk the British Pacific fleet. The Japanese had inflicted a crushing defeat on Lark Force and captured Rabaul along with most of the surviving Australian defenders. A few hundred soldiers had escaped and scattered into the jungle but he expected that these men would surrender in the following weeks. Rabaul belonged to Japan and it would become the main base for operations against New Guinea, Australia and the Solomons.

Despite these victories, his greatest enemies had eluded him – his soldiers had not captured Milne or Lawson. He was obsessed with their capture dead or alive. To his mind, they were dangerous spies and saboteurs capable of inflicting great damage on Japan. He was determined to hunt them down.

Tankara marched his squad to the Rabaul baseball grounds where soldiers had rounded up hundreds of civilians. The captives sat in the middle of the oval under the blazing sun surrounded by armed guards. He gave each of his men pictures of Milne and Lawson.

Tankara reported to the officer in charge, and showed him his orders. The officer raised his eyebrows.

"A couple of renegades eh, hope you find 'em, a few less mouths to feed. You can shoot 'em all if you like."

As Tankara searched through the prisoners, he recognised two of Milne's friends.

"Do you know Francis Milne?" he asked the first man.

The man nodded.

"Here, drink old man," he said kindly. "Are they among the prisoners?"

"I haven't seen either of them," he replied.

"Do you know where they might be?"

"I heard they had escaped to Australia."

"I believe they are on the island hiding. Do you know where they might be hiding?"

"Would not have a clue, mate."

"Lawson owns a plantation on the north coast, are they hiding there?"

"I doubt it," he replied.

"You will provide me with the location of his north coast plantation."

"I've never been there, mate."

Tankara grabbed his water bottle out of his hands. "You will be questioned further."

The other prisoner, John Marsden, said he had not seen them for many weeks.

Tankara ordered the guards to take the two men to headquarters for further questioning. He questioned several other men he recognised. When one man refused to answer questions, the guards beat him unconscious.

Returning to headquarters, Tankara ordered the two prisoners to stand to attention outside the interrogation room. He called the first prisoner in. The man, exhausted and weak from lack of food and water, collapsed in the chair. Tankara demanded to know whether Milne or Lawson were among the prisoners. The prisoner said he knew them but they were not among the civilian prisoners. Tankara slapped him across the face. The prisoner fell off his chair. He ordered the guard to put him back on the chair. He asked the question again and when the prisoner replied he did not know, Tankara told the guard to strike him with his fist. The prisoner fell off the chair again, and Tankara ordered the guards to take the prisoner away, and bring in the next prisoner. Although also in a bad physical condition, Marsden ducked when Tankara tried to slap him across the face for not bowing. This enraged him, and he struck him in the face with his fist. Marsden reeled back, and looked like he was about to strike him back.

"You fucking baboon!" he shouted.

Two guards beat him so badly that Tankara could not question him.

Tankara ordered that all Australian and allied civilians be moved to the former army barracks at Malaguna along with all military prisoners of war. As for the Chinese, he dealt with them ruthlessly and efficiently. His security forces arrested their community leaders and shot or beheaded them. Tankara saw to the removal of the rest of the Chinese population on the island to a jungle camp guarded by Japanese soldiers.

The Japanese allowed settlers of German, Swedish and Swiss origin to remain on their plantations as long as they supported the Japanese authorities and did not help the allied cause.

A week later, Tankara heard that Japanese soldiers had captured a new batch of prisoners and had taken them to the barracks. He took his squad to search among them for Milne or Lawson. Identifying several militia soldiers, he asked if they had seen Milne or Lawson. One wounded soldier remembered seeing Lawson on the beach the night of the attack but did not see him again and assumed he was dead. He and his men walked among the prisoners, holding pictures of Milne and Lawson in front of them. One of Tankara's men thought he had found Lawson but it was not him. While Tankara was questioning prisoners from Lawson's former unit, another batch of prisoners arrived at the stockade. Many of these men were in a terrible condition after surviving for weeks in the jungle. He searched among these men but Milne and Lawson were not among them. None of the militiamen he questioned knew Milne and Lawson.

Tankara heard that a number of Australian soldiers who had escaped into the jungle were trying to return to Australia. If some slipped through the net, this did not concern him. They would return to Australia as beaten men, an example of Japanese power and might. The return of these men would be a lesson to the Australian public about what happens to those who try to stand up to Japan.

It seemed to him in those heady days of victory that nothing could stop Japan from establishing its Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere. All Japan needed to do now was to prevent Australia being used by the Allies as a base to attack the Japanese Empire. The Japanese fleet was ready to head south and the army ready to march on Port Moresby and the Solomons. Once Australia was neutralised, all Japan had to do was to defend its territorial gains and force the Allies to sue for peace.

Meanwhile, he had his job to do – rounding up the last enemy strays. As he drove around Rabaul, he was proud that the Japanese were transforming the town from a sleepy coastal port to a thriving military base. Construction crews worked around the clock erecting huts, sheds and warehouses to house the thousands of soldiers, sailors and support personnel pouring into the town. Soldiers flung up tents on every available piece of land. Merchant ships arrived non-stop at the wharf, where prisoners in filthy rags unloaded the cargoes. He stood on the wharf where Milne had once stood, gloating with satisfaction that the Japanese had shown their superiority to the world. No longer would the world deny Japan its rightful place as the dominant Asian power.

He did not believe that Milne and Lawson had left the island. Milne was an intelligence officer who had orders to spy on Japanese military movements in Rabaul. Lawson was a Coastwatcher.

One day, he drove to Milne's plantation in Namanula. Soldiers had searched the house and grounds but found no trace of him. The Japanese had turned the house into headquarters for one of the infantry units.

Tankara sat in Milne's cane chair on the veranda looking over the hive of activity in the harbour. He looked up to the hills surrounding Rabaul and imagined Milne up there somewhere, hiding on a plantation, or in a cave, plotting against the Japanese. The thought of him free, when all the other civilians had surrendered, consumed him with rage. He swore to himself that he would hunt him down.

### Chapter 28

The sun streamed through the window. Milne opened his eyes and looked around the room. He had been bed-ridden for a week with fever since he and Lawson had escaped from Rabaul. Once again, the two friends had survived the impossible, and outrun their enemies. He parted the mosquito net hanging over his bed and looked out the window. He could see figures bending down in the large vegetable garden around the plantation house. Lying back on his pillow, he put his hands behind his head. His body ached but his fever had subsided.

He had escaped the Japanese, but he and his friends were in a dangerous position. Japanese garrisons and outposts were scattered around the area surrounding his plantation house. Escape by sea was out of the question. Escape by land not possible. They were cornered.

There was a gentle knock at the door. He sat up and looked towards the door. Freda peeped in. When she saw he was awake, she smiled and walked in with a mug of tea.

"Feeling better?" she asked, handing him the mug.

He took a long sip and nodded. "I feel better than I did. How long have I been asleep?"

"A few days," she replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. She felt his head. "The fever has gone down."

"That last romp in the jungle with Cliff did me in. Which reminds me, is he all right?"

"Yes, he is at the coastwatching post and has sent two reports to headquarters. He had problems with the radio for a few days but it is going alright now."

"Do we know what's happening in the outside world?"

She shook her head. "Cliff will know something. He's coming by later."

"When I'm well enough, we'll go down to Rabaul and see what the Japs are up to."

She looked at him in astonishment. "Francis, you can barely walk and there are Japanese soldiers wandering all over the island."

"They don't know the jungle like I do. If there is a way, I'll find it."

He finished the last of his tea, and handed her his empty mug. She offered to make him scrambled eggs, which he accepted. While she went to cook them, he got out of bed and tried to walk. His legs could not support him, and he sat down on the bed again. He tried once more to stand up, but had to sit down again. When he heard Freda returning, he got back into bed. She sat by his bedside watching him eat.

"We have plenty to live on for several months," she said. "After that, who knows? It's too dangerous to leave the plantation."

He finished eating and she took his plate to the kitchen and poured him another cup of tea. When she came back, he was standing by the bed.

They heard voices at the door, and Lawson strolled into the bedroom. "Hello, me little mate is up and at 'em."

"Bloody hell Lawson, don't you ever tire?"

"No time to rest."

"What's happening on the island?" asked Milne, getting back into bed.

"From what I gather, the Japanese have captured or killed most of our soldiers, but I heard that a lot of our blokes escaped south hoping to get a ship back to good old Australia. It looks like most of the Australian and British civilians on the island have been imprisoned. As far as I know, we are the only ones still free."

"Do we know what's happening elsewhere?"

"I've been in radio contact with HQ back home, but they don't say a lot, you know censorship and all that. The Japs have captured Malaya and the Dutch East Indies. They are closing in on Singapore."

"I can't see 'em taking Singapore," said Milne. "It's bloody unthinkable."

"No one predicted they'd get this far, but they'll be knocking on Australia's back door at this rate."

They fell silent at the enormity of the events overwhelming them. The world they knew had changed overnight. The certainty they knew was gone.

Milne was tired and closed his eyes. He woke and Lawson had gone. He fell asleep, woke, slept on and off, read by candlelight for an hour, slept for a few hours more and woke feeling better. Pushing away the mosquito net, he stood up and walked around the bedroom several times. He dressed and lay on the bed. Gazing out the window, he could feel his strength flowing back into his body. Memories of his life in Rabaul came flooding back. He remembered the time the colony celebrated the coronation of King George V1 in Rabaul. The town erected triumphal arches at both ends of Chinatown along Malaguna road. He and Mary had watched as a procession representing the various communities living in New Guinea paraded down the main street. The Chinese community provided a large contingent. The children looked beautiful in their traditional clothes. Japanese women wore colourful kimonos, and walked to the steady beat of a drum. Next, the Europeans in their white uniforms, driving cars and trucks covered in decorations. A large group of Tolai, dressed in colourful feathers and wearing masks, sang and danced down the road. The procession marched down to the waterfront where the Chinese community put on a firework display.

The memory of that night stayed in his mind for many years afterwards. However, he remembered the hard times in New Guinea. In his first year in the colony, his coconut plantation prospered, and he and Asami had made a good living, but the following year, the price of copra dropped to the point where he was barely making enough to pay the costs of running the plantation. He and Lawson went prospecting for gold in the hills. Rumours had been circulating around the town for weeks that settlers had found gold. They used the last of their money to buy equipment and supplies and headed for the goldfields. Six months later, they struck it rich, finding the only large gold deposit on the island. They invested in copra plantations and other businesses.

He woke and decided it was time to get up and get on with life. Freda looked in on him.

"Help me up. I'm sick of being an invalid."

She helped him out of bed. He dressed and walked unsteadily to the lounge room, followed by Freda.

"You look better today," she said. "What do you think, Tomina?"

Tomina, a woman of few words, looked him up and down and nodded.

He strolled onto the veranda. From here, he could see that Tomina and Freda had cleared the old vegetable gardens of weeds, and planted several rows of cabbage, lettuce, spinach, pumpkin and several different herbs, and local crops such as taro and sweet potato, which thrived in the tropical environment. He sat at the table, breathing the fresh morning air.

Later in the morning, Lawson came over from the coastwatching post.

He looked at him and said; "Singapore has fallen. Just heard it on the radio."

"How the hell did Singapore fall?" asked Milne. "We were told the Japanese would never take it."

"We got it wrong," said Lawson. "The newspapers are blaming the British. They underestimated the Japanese. We underestimated the Japanese at Rabaul and look what happened. We should have done what you said – fallen back into the highlands and used the jungle as cover to ambush the Japs. Everyone – politicians, our commanders, the press – has failed us. We've been bloody hung out to dry. One tragedy after tragedy, blunder after blunder. The Japs have started bombing Darwin and killed hundreds of civilians. The Japs have captured Vietnam, Burma, Malaya, and most of the Dutch East Indies, and they have captured Manila and driven the Yanks out of the Philippines and have the survivors trapped on Corregidor."

"Struth," is all Milne could spit out.

Lawson shook his head. "Most of our naval, air and military forces are in the Middle East fighting German and Italian troops, and as aircrew in Britain. Australia is virtually defenceless against Japanese attack. We're in a shit load of trouble. This is now the Battle for Australia."

Milne said the best they could do to help the war effort was to spy on Japanese activity in Rabaul harbour because if they were planning an invasion of Australia, this force would have to come through Rabaul.

Lawson said they had enough tinned and dried food to last for six months. They could supplement their diet with wallabies, possums, snakes, lizards, bush turkeys and fish.

That evening, Tomina and Sako roasted a large pig over a roaring fire. Milne broke out his precious stock of whisky and beer. The party was a sombre affair.

For several weeks, they remained hidden on the plantation, going out as little as possible. Sako and Tomina traded tools for food with local villagers and gathered intelligence on Japanese outposts. Milne and Lawson took turns at the coastwatching post, reporting to army headquarters sightings of Japanese ships and aircraft. A few times, they saw large formations of Japanese aircraft flying south.

In early April, headquarters ordered Milne to observe Japanese shipping activity in Simpson Harbour. A reconnaissance plane had spotted a Japanese aircraft carrier heading for Rabaul, and headquarters suspected that it was part of a larger invasion force.

Milne had established two lookout posts in the hills above Rabaul in the years before the invasion. He knew the hills like the back of his hand. Lawson insisted on coming with him because 'I've never let my little mate go to his death without me.' Milne enlisted several loyal men from the local village to guide them and guard them against Japanese patrols.

That evening they set out towards Toma, keeping parallel with the main road. They kept a wary eye out for Japanese patrols and encampments. Within twenty minutes of leaving the plantation, they saw a large group of Japanese soldiers camping in a jungle clearing. They were sitting around a roaring fire singing and laughing.

"Jeez, if I had a few grenades..." mused Lawson.

They watched them a while longer, and then slipped by the Japanese post, keeping to the hunting trails winding through the dense jungle.

They arrived in the hills and set themselves up in a lookout post. The post commanded views over Rabaul and Simpson Harbour. On the day they arrived, Australian aircraft were making a raid on the harbour.

They settled down with binoculars and supplies to track Japanese activity. A few days later, they watched as several Japanese destroyers and battleships arrived and anchored in Rabaul. Milne was convinced this was the Japanese invasion force. He wrote down a description of each ship, its size and type. Returning to the plantation, they reported to headquarters and then watched from their coastwatching post for the invasion force to sail. One morning, they spotted several destroyers and an aircraft carrier heading south. Lawson reported in. A message came back confirming his report. He waited by his radio for the next week for news of where the invasion fleet was heading.

"This is it," said Lawson with his usual certainty, "it's the bloody invasion of Australia."

Lawson received a message that the Allies had intercepted the Japanese force. He rushed to the house to pass on the message. For the first time since the capture of Rabaul, they had reason to cheer and celebrate.

The Japanese invasion force had been heading for Port Moresby when a joint Australian-American naval force intercepted it in the Coral Sea. The fierce battle resulted in both sides suffering heavy losses of ships and aircraft. However, the Japanese force turned back to Rabaul. The Japanese had suffered their first major defeat at sea. If they had succeeded, they would have cut Australia off from the United States.

"This is the end for the Japs," said Lawson. "After this, it's all bloody downhill for them."

"They aren't done yet by a long shot," said Milne.

### Chapter 29

Tankara stood on the wharf watching the battered invasion force limp back into Simpson Harbour. The Japanese had lost an aircraft carrier, several smaller warships, and the aircraft carrier _Shōkaku_ had suffered severe damage. Tears ran down his cheek when he saw the battered giant stagger into the harbour. There was no doubt in his mind that spies had reported the naval force when it left Rabaul and steamed south.

For the past month, his unit had been investigating the location of Australian coastwatching posts on the island. A Japanese ship had detected radio signals in Ataliklikun Bay and pinpointed Lawson's plantation as the source. He believed that Milne was with Lawson and he decided that he would personally lead an expedition to hunt them down.

A few days later, he led his squad to kill or capture Milne and Lawson. Because of the dry weather, he was able to reach the plantation by truck on the dirt road.

Villagers sent word to Milne that the Japanese were heading for them. Milne sent a messenger to warn Cliff and Freda, who were at the coastwatching post, to abandon the post and hide in caves or the jungle. He collected his rifle, ammunition and enough food to last several days and raced to the caves. Just as he ran out the back door, he heard the truck skid to a halt in front of the plantation.

Tankara swaggered up the path leading to the plantation house. Sako stood on the veranda welcoming him.

"Where are Lawson and Milne?" demanded Tankara.

Sako replied that he had not seen Milne or Lawson since the arrival of the Japanese. He had heard that they had fled the island and returned to Australia.

"Liar!" shouted Tankara, striking Sako across the face.

He ordered his troops to search the house and the grounds. He sent three soldiers to the cliffs to find the coastwatching post while the rest of his squad swarmed over the house and plantation. Two Japanese soldiers dragged Tomina by her hair onto the verandah and started beating her. Sako tried to defend her, but one of the soldiers clubbed him with his rifle and the other soldier bayoneted him in the back.

Tankara ordered his men to drag Tomina and Sako down the stairs to the ground.

"Where are Milne and Lawson? Where is the radio? You and your wife will die if you do not speak."

Sako repeated that he had not seen them since the Japanese invaded.

"Shoot her!"

One of his soldiers put the muzzle of his rifle to Tomina's head and shot her dead. Tankara pressed his pistol to Sako's head and said he had 30 seconds to talk. Sako told him to go to hell. Tanaka shot him dead.

"Burn it down!"

His men set fire to the house and the copra sheds.

Meanwhile, the soldiers sent to find the coastwatching post raced along the cliff top searching the area. They saw Freda standing at the entrance to the lookout as Lawson was sending a message to headquarters. The soldiers opened fire but missed her. Lawson finished the message and returned fire.

"No sense in us both dying here," said Lawson. "I'll hold 'em off and you join Francis at the cave."

"If you stay, I stay," said Freda. "And anyway, I'm a better shot than you."

"You know my bloody legs are useless. I don't have a choice, you do. Get going before we are surrounded."

More soldiers joined their comrades and opened fire.

"Give me a gun," she demanded. "I'm not going anywhere."

Lawson shook his head. "Bloody hell woman, don't you ever do as your told? If the Japs take us, we're as good as dead."

Freda grabbed the pistol and fired back at the soldiers. Lawson destroyed the radio and set fire to papers and maps. They took cover behind a rock where they had a better chance of holding off the Japanese with their backs to the sea.

The Japanese soldiers fanned out and formed a cordon around their position. Tankara arrived and ordered his men to open fire.

There were bullets flying in every direction. Tankara ordered two soldiers to work around the flanks.

Lawson and Freda, well concealed in the rocks behind stunted bushes, watched them come. Lawson waited for the leading Japanese soldier to come within range and then let him have it. The soldier cried out and lay face down. The other soldiers peppered the rocks with bullets. Lawson and Freda moved their position and kept firing.

Tankara reminded his men that they were to take Lawson alive. He told them to keep up the fire until he ran out of ammunition.

Lawson turned to Freda. "This looks like it old girl. I've had a good innings. I always knew I was on borrowed time, ever since Gallipoli."

Freda looked at him, sweat pouring down her face. She looked over her shoulder at the sea. She could hear the roar of the waves. "We can't be taken. I'd rather we jumped together."

"Bugger that. I won't die like a Jap. I'm out of ammo."

The Japanese had stopped firing. Lawson waved his hat and called, "We're coming out."

He and Freda walked out with their hands up. "My wife had nothing to do with this. You want me. I reported on your invasion force."

The soldiers seized them and tied their hands behind their backs. Two soldiers started beating Lawson with their rifle butts. Tankara told his men to stop, pulled out his pistol and said he was going to execute him. Freda yelled at him. Tankara punched her in the face and she collapsed on the ground. He made Lawson get to his knees and held the pistol to his head.

Lawson looked into his eyes without the slightest hint of fear. "You will die like this too, you little cunt."

Tankara held the gun to his temple for a few more minutes. "You'll wish I did kill you here." He holstered his gun.

"Where is Milne?"

"Haven't seen him, mate."

Tankara put his pistol to his head again.

"Where is he?"

"Fuck off, Tankara. You're so smart, you find him."

Tankara held his pistol to his head for a few more seconds and ordered his men to throw them in the truck. The guards pushed and dragged the prisoners to the truck. When Lawson fell over, the guards beat him with their rifle butts. Freda shouted at them to stop. Tankara kicked her and she fell over. The guards threw them into the back of the truck.

Tankara ordered his men to search the jungle surrounding the plantation.

While this was going on, Milne was hiding deep in the cave system, unaware of what had become of the others. He stayed hidden for several hours, even managing to sleep for a few hours. When he thought it safe, he cautiously made his way to the entrance. It was late afternoon and there was no sign of the Japanese. The plantation house was in ruins. He found Sako and Tomina in the dirt, brutally slain. He walked to the coastwatching post but the Japanese had destroyed it and the radio was gone. Looking at the trail of blood, he assumed the Japanese had killed or captured his friends.

After burying Sako and Tomina, he sat in the ruins of the house, contemplating his next move.

A few days after their arrest, the Japanese charged Freda and Cliff with espionage. Tankara convened a court-martial to prosecute them.

Lawson did not deny that he had spied on the Japanese. They had seized the radio he had partially destroyed. In fact, it lay on the table in the small courtroom as exhibit A. He knew they would find him guilty and execute him. His strategy was to minimise the guilt of Freda in the hope they might spare her.

Under intense questioning, Lawson admitted gathering intelligence on the Japanese and relaying it to headquarters. However, he argued that Freda knew nothing about his spying activities. He said she was responsible for managing the plantation and household.

He was surprised Tankara wanted to know about his early life in Rabaul.

"Well, Australia and Japan were allies the first time around," he said. "Funny lookin' back on it now. I came here to Rabaul back in '14 when we seized it from the Germans. The Australian and Japanese navies chased von Spee out of the Pacific. You know, I knew Mr. Komine back then, a great bloke. He helped us take a few islands where the Germans were still holding out."

The mention of Komine's name caused a hush to fall over the court. Tankara considered Komine a national hero.

"Then after the war, I settled here with Freda. They were great days until you lot came along and spoiled the party. You really are pathetic. Do you think you are going to defeat the Yanks, the Poms and the Australians? No way, mate. We are going to kick your backsides real hard."

Tankara shouted at Lawson in a rage. "How dare you insult the Japanese Imperial Army! How dare you insult Japan! We did not start this war – the Americans and British did!

"Don't make me laugh, you silly old goat. Why you started this war as sure as that silly nose of yours looks like a flat banana. But we'll end it. I wouldn't want to be you when the Yanks get wound up – yeah I saw 'em in action in northern France in round one of this war – the poor old Germans didn't know what hit 'em when Perishing's boys got at 'em. I've made my point. I could not give a rats about this court. If you had seen what I seen on the Western Front, you never would have gone to war. Nothing but blood and guts everywhere. Now you're gonna reap the whirlwind. The bit of bombing you've seen around Rabaul is nothing to what is to come."

In short, Lawson made a mockery of the court, the Japanese, and even insulted the Emperor, calling him a puffed up peacock and dithering idiot.

When it came to Freda's turn to talk, instead of minimising her guilt, she admitted that she had taken part in spying activity and had helped Lawson report on Japanese naval movements.

This admission sealed their fate. The court sentenced them to death. After the court handed down its judgement, Tankara asked if Lawson had anything to say – and of course, he did.

"I fully admit to all the charges. I face my death with less fear than you face your miserable criminal lives. I've lived on borrowed time since 1914. I survived everything man and nature threw at me but always came up smiling. That I may have contributed to the defeat of your navy in the Coral Sea gives me great joy. I go to my death knowing that I've lived life to the full. But for you, the end will not come easily. You have reached the end of the line. More defeats will follow until your accursed empire lies in ruins. We are coming in numbers with more planes, ships and soldiers. We are coming to crush you. That you have also sentenced my wife to death shows you have no decency or humanity. She is guiltless. I deserve to die but she does not. I damn you all and my only regret is that I will not be here to see you all perish on the end of an Australian bullet or bayonet."

Tankara flew into a violent rage. He stormed out from behind his desk and raged against Lawson.

Lawson shouted back: "I curse you...dog...baboon..."

"Take them away!" shouted Tankara.

After his outburst, Lawson expected Tankara to have him shot but, in yet another contradiction of the Japanese character, he and Freda were well treated. The guards even looked in awe at Lawson and the seemingly carefree way he faced death. They gave them a last meal of rice, chicken, soup and tea. The tray of food included a carton of Japanese cigarettes.

"Well, this is really it this time, old girl."

Freda laughed. "It is but I'm not your old girl."

"Have you ever thought how different our lives would be if we had never met," he mused.

"Life would have been a lot duller, my dear."

"Yeah, I still would have done most of the things I done anyway. Anyways, now we've eaten, let's get down to it."

"What!" she shrieked mockingly, "how can you think of sex at a time like this?"

"Now you wouldn't want me to go on the loneliest journey of all unsatisfied would you? Why it's unthinkable."

Freda laughed and threw her arms around him. "I guess the only thing we missed is growing old together and seeing David again. We'll never know if he survived the war and if he does what sort of man he will become."

"A good man, I'll wager," said Lawson wistfully. "He's got your looks and my swagger – he's sure to be an officer by now."

They lay on the narrow bed and made love.

At dawn, a guard banged on the cell door. He brought breakfast in and for the first time smiled. "You die now ... you eat, then you die," he corrected himself.

"Good on you mate, is it alright if we take a year to eat breakfast?"

The guard didn't understand Lawson's sense of humour.

After breakfast, the guards escorted them from their prison cell to a waiting truck. The grim-faced firing squad sat opposite them.

"What are youse lot up to today?" asked Lawson.

Their expressions didn't change.

After a short ride, the truck pulled up near the Rabaul town dump. The soft volcanic earth was an ideal spot to dispose of bodies.

Tankara stood to one side watching. The guards placed Freda and Lawson in front of a large hole. The firing squad formed up.

"I'll see you all in hell," said Lawson. "Long live Australia and death to the Japs!"

He put his arm around Freda, and they kissed once more. A volley of shots rang out and they fell to the ground. Tankara walked over to the prone figures. Lawson was moaning softly, opened his eyes and said, "You can't even kill someone properly you fuckwit."

Tankara pulled out his pistol and shot him in the head. Then he turned his gun on Freda. He emptied his revolver into them and then reloaded. He fired again, swearing as he did.

The wind blew across the grisly scene, ruffling their hair. The burial party picked up Lawson and Freda and threw them into the shallow grave.

### Chapter 30

The long hours became days and the days turned into weeks. Milne lay on a mattress on the floor of an abandoned plantation house. He had run out of food and did not have the strength to search for more. His fever was burning him up. He shivered. The malaria was back. He tried to recall how long had it been since the Japanese had arrested Cliff and Freda, murdered Tomina and Sako and burned down Lawson's house and destroyed the gardens and farm animals. He had lost track of time. Had it been days or weeks?

One day, he did not remember when, a group of men from a nearby village were searching the house for tinned food. They found him and cared for him. He told them about the tinned and dried food stored in the cave and they brought it to the house, taking some for themselves and the rest they stored in a cupboard for him. A woman stayed with him for three days, feeding and looking after him. When he was better, she stopped coming. He knew he was dying. Without quinine and proper medical treatment, he knew he only had a few weeks to live. He could no longer keep food down and he had dysentery.

One morning he woke and Tankara was standing over him. He thought it might be a dream. He felt himself being carried. Then he was lying in a truck. When he woke up, he was lying on a blanket on the floor surrounded by other sick and wounded men.

He looked around and saw a familiar face – John Marsden.

"You're alive," said John.

Milne nodded and asked where he was and how he got here.

"Tankara brought you in a week ago. You're in a sick ward of the prison camp. I wouldn't call it a hospital because there is no medicine or doctors. I'm a nurse of sorts even though I don't know a bloody think about nursing."

"Fuck it," replied Milne. "I thought it might have been a dream. I'm going to die."

"Not if Tankara can help it. He sent a Jap doctor to treat you and he gave you quinine tablets. The doctor treats only you and does nothing for the other blokes suffering from malaria. He either likes you or hates you. Maybe he's keeping you alive because he thinks you know something."

Milne sat up and looked around at the pitiful scene of wounded men dying of blood poisoning from infected wounds while others burned with fever.

"We're losing two blokes a day. I talked to the guards about getting us some medicine and they beat me up. By the way, sorry to hear about Cliff and Freda, they were good people."

"What happened to them?"

"They were executed for spying."

Milne nodded. "I was there when the Japs came for them. I was hiding in a cave. I should have died with them."

"There are enough people dying as it is, mate. There was nothing you could have done. Anyway, I have more sick people to pretend to help. I'll come back later."

Milne lay back on the hard floor listening to the moans of the dying. He and Cliff had been through so much together and survived against all the odds that he believed Cliff was immortal. Now he was dead, it seemed ridiculous, impossible, unlikely. Cliff had survived the charge at Hill 60 in Gallipoli, the brutal trench warfare of the Western Front and the vicious battle of Rabaul. How could he be dead?

He would have given anything, including his own life, just to sit and talk to Cliff one more time. If only for a few minutes. To tell him that he was his best friend. To tell him that he loved him like a brother. To reminisce about their adventures. He felt cheated that he had been denied this final farewell.

He fell asleep. Woke. The fever subsided. One morning, he got off the floor and walked around among the sick. He felt guilty that he was receiving better care than the other patients were. He did not understand why Tankara was looking after him. He expected that Tankara would have him shot because he had been part of the coastwatching group reporting on Japanese naval movements.

The guards came to escort him to Tankara. Milne walked into the interrogation room. Tankara was sitting behind the desk looking over some papers. He looked up and told him to sit in front of him.

"I trust you are being well-cared for?"

Milne nodded and looked him in the eye. His head was spinning.

"You see, Mr Milne, our circumstances have changed. I have won and you have lost. Japan is victorious and Australia is in retreat. New Guinea will be part of the Japanese empire and so might will country one day."

He did not reply but kept looking at him.

"I think we can help each other," continued Tankara. "I would like to release Australian and British plantation owners to work on their farms and help Japanese forces."

Milne knew this was a lie. Tankara had no interest in helping Allied civilians who he regarded with contempt.

"You executed Cliff and Freda."

Tankara nodded. "They admitted to spying."

"I was at the coastwatching post when you came for us. Will I be tried for spying?"

"I have not decided that," replied Tankara. "I see you have not recovered from your ordeal. Think about what I have said and we will talk again."

The guards escorted Milne back to the sick room. After a few days, he was well enough to move back into the prison population. When he walked into the barracks, he recognised many of his friends. The prison was overcrowded, and the prisoners lived on a starvation diet of two small serves of rice a day, and a bowl of watery soup. The prisoners were in bad shape. He did not recognise some of his friends who had lost a lot of weight and seemed to have aged twenty years since he had last seen them. Some of them were covered in welts, cuts and bruises from their Japanese guards who enjoyed kicking and hitting them with their rifles if they did not move fast enough or bow deeply enough.

Milne told them about his capture but he did not mention Tankara's offer to allow civilians to return to their plantations if they cooperated with the Japanese. He knew it was a lie and that Tankara was trying to divide and confuse them.

"I was hiding out on a plantation in the hills when the Japs arrived," said a planter from Kokopo. "I thought they might leave me alone but one day they came for me. I've been in the stockade for months now. If you want to survive here, volunteer to work down the wharves unloading ships, you get fed more, and you can do a bit of pilfering."

Milne could not do heavy wharf work, so he got a job sweeping the barracks and looking after the gardens and parade ground. One morning after roll call, he walked over to a group of captured soldiers who the Japanese had brought in that morning.

"Where are you blokes from?" he asked a lean, exhausted soldier.

"They caught up with us on the north coast," he replied. "Bloody months of slogging through the jungle, starving and covered in bites and leeches, and for what? Far as I know, we are the last ones the Japs caught. Some blokes managed to get away."

A Japanese guard told Milne to get back to work. He bowed and returned to sweeping the parade ground. He decided it was better to work than think about how hungry he was. He worked as an orderly helping the wounded, but this was depressing work. The patients did not have enough to eat, and many had malaria and dysentery. There were no drugs to treat them, and the death rate was high. He also worked in the cookhouse, where he was able to get a little more to eat. His day began at 5.00 am when the guards chased them out of the barracks for roll call. After a few spoons of rice and some watery soup, his day began.

An older Japanese guard befriended him. He did not know why the guard, called Jiro, took a liking to him. Jiro gave him a little extra food, and took him on errands to help bring in food from the markets. Once, Jiro showed him a picture of a young man in uniform, with a woman and two children. Jiro waved his arms around and pointed to the picture and himself. Milne understood that the young man in the picture was probably his son, and the children were his grandchildren.

After a while, Milne leant basic Japanese words, and he taught Jiro some English. Once after a raid by allied bombers on Japanese ships in the harbour, the guards went on a rampage, beating any prisoner that could not get out of their way fast enough. Jiro and another guard beat the slow-moving Milne with a cane. The next day, it was as if it never happened, and Jiro was kindly towards him.

For the civilian and military prisoners in Rabaul, the days went by slowly. Allied air attacks on military installations and ships in the harbour punctuated the monotony of prison life, and reminded them that the Allies were taking the war to the Japanese.

One day, Milne heard rumours that the Japanese were sending most of the prisoners, soldiers and civilians, to a prison camp in China. He sensed that something was happening. The guards were more bad-tempered than usual and cared even less for the prisoners.

Jiro told him, "You go...China, Rabaul bad...no food... bomb...bomb." He pointed to a ship anchored in the harbour. "You go ship."

That afternoon, Tankara called for him. This time, the guards took him to his private quarters. Tankara was sitting at his table spread with food.

"You will be leaving Rabaul tomorrow for China," he said. "You may never return."

Milne, sick with fever, nodded.

Tankara offered him a cup of sake and some rice cakes. Milne did not know what motivated this act of decency but he did not care – he wolfed down the cakes and swallowed the drink in one gulp.

"Your friend, Cliff Lawson, said many things about the war and Japan during his trial. He died bravely."

Milne, his feverish mind working to comprehend what Tankara was getting at, held out his cup for another drink.

"I thought you might like to know that," added Tankara.

"Thanks for telling me."

Tankara called the guards and escorted Milne back to his barracks.

The following morning, guards shouting and banging their rifle butts against the walls awakened the prisoners. The guards told them to pack their belongings and assemble on the parade ground. After roll call, Milne joined the long line of ragged prisoners trudging to the wharf. There were Japanese machine-gun teams along the route. He saw a rusty old merchant ship, the _Montevideo Maru_ , tied to one of the wharves. The guards herded the prisoners up the gangways. When they arrived on deck, the guards directed them to the claustrophobic, dark holds.

After struggling up the gangway, Milne descended into the forward hold, already packed with several hundred prisoners. Walking down the ladder into the dark, airless hold was like descending into hell. There were no beds, no toilets except a few buckets, and no washing facilities. There were at least fifty sick among them. The fit prisoners set up a small area at the front of the hold for the sick.

"How long are we going to be down here," shouted a soldier.

"Probably weeks," said a civilian.

"Christ, what I'd do for an ice cold beer!"

"Stop the racket, whinging won't do any good," shouted another.

"I'm not whinging, I'm bloody thirsty!"

"How much water do we have down here?" asked Milne. "I can't see a bloody thing."

"Over here!" shouted a voice in the dark. "A bucket of water."

The prisoners stumbled around in the dark trying to find more water. They found two more buckets.

"We'll have to share it out," said Milne.

They found two cups. They did not know how often the guards would give them water, so they had to conserve it. Dividing themselves into three groups, each group would ration out the water, one sip per person. The toilet arrangements were their next problem. They set aside an area, cordoned off, where they could relieve themselves.

Milne considered himself lucky that he did not have dysentery. The little extra food Jiro had given him kept his strength up during his captivity, and he faced this new ordeal better off than many of the other prisoners.

The guards closed the hatches, shutting out the little light they had. He could feel the ship moving.

One of the prisoners, a sailor, estimated the direction, speed and the landmarks they would be passing.

A few hours into the journey, many of the prisoners suffered from seasickness. In the confined space, the foul air exacerbated their seasickness. They had to enlarge the area for the sick.

A group of missionaries prayed, organised singsongs, and bible readings. They at least provided some diversion for the desperate prisoners.

After enduring their first night in the airless hold, the guards opened the hatches, and the prisoners stumbled on deck. Milne thought he would faint when he stepped into the sunlight, and smelt the fresh sea air. The prisoners staggered around the deck and joined a queue for a spoon of rice in a watery bowl of soup. They were also able to use the outside toilets on the deck.

A delegation of prisoners, which included Milne, asked a Japanese naval officer if they could hose out the hold before returning. The officer shouted at them, and struck three of the party. Sailors with fixed bayonets prodded the prisoners back into the hold.

Hours stretched into days. In the heat and humidity of the hold, the press of sweating bodies mixed with the smell of vomit, shit and piss was overpowering. Half the prisoners had dysentery, which added to their misery. The hold became more putrid as the floor became ankle deep in sewage. They were little more than animals. Many were so weak; they could not get up and defecated where they lay. In the general misery, no one noticed. The sick prisoners moaned and called out deliriously.

_If this is hell,_ thought Milne _, I'm here_.

The sick began to die. Their corpses took up valuable space, so he helped pile them up on top of each other to make way for more sick to lie down.

The next morning when they climbed on deck for food and exercise, Milne took the risk and asked the bad-tempered officer if they could bring out the dead for burial at sea. Instead of the beating he expected, the officer was polite, and allowed the prisoners to bring out the dead. They laid them on the deck, and after a brief ceremony, they tossed the bodies overboard.

A few minutes later, the guards herded them down the ladders into hell.

By day three, the situation in the hold was becoming desperate. The sick were dying at an alarming rate, and more previously healthy prisoners were coming down with dysentery. The guards filled up the three water buckets each morning with filthy oily water. This was not enough to quench their thirst, and a request by a prisoner for more water resulted in a beating.

"There are more of us than them," said one soldier. "I say when they let us up, we jump 'em and turn the ship around."

"Are you bloody mad," said another, "they have machine guns and rifles trained on us the whole time we're on deck. They're looking for an excuse to kill us all."

"At this rate, none of us will be alive in a few days. We're all going to die. I say it is better to go out fighting than dying like this, in this filth."

"Our life is miserable enough," shouted another man. "If you kill a few of their guards, they'll kill most of us, and the rest they will lock in the hold with no food or water for the rest of the trip. I say we keep quiet, bow, and get to wherever we're going alive."

"Where are we going?" asked a prisoner.

"Some labour camp on an island off China," said a skinny prisoner. "I asked one of the guards what it was like and he said we will build roads."

"So, the Japs are going to work us to death. That's if there are any of us left by the end of this journey." He held up the limp arm of the soldier sitting next to him, who had died.

"There's nothing we can do," said one of the civilians.

"Let's vote on it," said the soldier. "I'd rather die fighting than die like an animal."

The prisoners argued back and forth. Some got up and moved away, not wanting to be involved.

"I agree with this bloke," said Milne indicating the soldier calling for action. "I reckon we plan something, but only put it into action if there is a chance of the revolt succeeding."

"I reckon you're all bloody mad," said the civilian. "You'll get us all killed. We'll all be punished for anything you do. The Japanese are bloody pitiless, they don't know about mercy or forgiveness."

"All right, let's vote," said the soldier.

Milne voted in favour of an attempt to seize the ship but the majority voted against it.

"Well, you can all die, I'm going to try it," said the soldier.

He gathered six men in favour of action. They agreed that they should wait a few more days. "The guards can see how weak and useless we are, they won't be expecting us to turn on 'em. When we go up on deck in the morning, we'll check the positions and numbers of the guards, and the number and type of guns. We'll have to take out the machine gunners first."

After a sleepless night in the terrible heat and stench, the guards opened the holds and those prisoners who could, climbed up the ladders to the deck. Milne walked around the deck, taking gulps of fresh air. He watched a flock of seagulls circle overhead. There was a gentle sea breeze. He could feel it ruffling his hair. Eating the morning meal of watery rice, he felt life flowing through his body. He saw an island off the portside, and wondered its name. The guards allowed them more time on deck than usual. For an hour, Milne was able to walk around, breath the air, eat, and relieve himself over the side.

The group of prisoners in favour of seizing the ship had grown. Others, who had originally voted not to stage a revolt, stood outside the group listening.

"I counted at least sixty guards," said one of the rebels. "The senior officer is an ensign. We'll need more men to overwhelm them. Each of us should talk to the other prisoners. Mainly talk to the soldiers. We need at least fifty men strong enough to take the rifles off the guards."

For the next two days, they went among the prisoners, trying to win them over. Milne talked to civilians he knew, and several began to come around.

Milne noticed that the guards had softened their attitude to the prisoners, and allowed them on deck a few times a day. The guards also increased the amount of water the prisoners were given. Even the helpings of food were increased. The prisoners, who had survived dysentery and other diseases, gradually became stronger.

By day eight, they had gathered one hundred men who were prepared to fight for freedom. That night they gathered below decks. "We strike tomorrow morning," said the ringleader. "As soon as the guards let us on deck, we'll attack. We have to hit 'em hard and fast. Most of the guards are little blokes. Pick 'em up and throw 'em over the side. Grab their rifles if you can. We have no weapons, so you'll have to improvise."

"Where do you reckon we are?" asked Milne.

"According to me calculations, we're near the Philippines," said a sailor. "We'll steer the ship back to Australia."

"Do you know how to drive this thing?" asked Milne.

"Easy, I've steered vessels nearly as big as this. No worries, you get me into the bridge, and I'll do the rest."

"All right, let's get some sleep if we can," said Milne. "Tomorrow is a big day."

They lay down and tried to sleep. Milne tossed and turned. Despite the appalling conditions they were living in, he had adapted to his new environment and barely noticed the smell, or heard the cries of the wounded. He was alive and that is what mattered. He tried to think of his idyllic life on his plantation. In his mind, he saw himself there, walking around his property, checking the trees and talking to his workers. He remembered the cold beer at the Rabaul Hotel, and the long lunches with Mary and his friends at his house. He thought of Asami and remembered their first meeting in Rabaul. He remembered his joy at seeing her again when he returned to Rabaul. He smiled at his memories of Susan. These thoughts soothed him, and he drifted off into a contented sleep. A few hours into his sleep, the sound of an explosion woke him. Other prisoners were sitting up, talking and yelling. In the dark, packed hold, the prisoners felt the ship shake. They heard more muffled explosions.

Several voices called out, "What the hell was that?"

"Sounded like an explosion."

"I can feel the ship moving, lifting up."

The ship was tilting up. All those prisoners at the fore of the hold began to slide towards the aft. Milne could hear water rushing into the ship. He tried to grab hold of something to stop himself from sliding down the deck. Others were doing the same, but there was nothing to grab.

He could hear the prisoners at the other end of the hold splashing about screaming and shouting. The missionaries had formed a circle and were praying loudly, "Our father, who art in heaven, give us this day..." The screaming drowned their prayers as the ship tilted upright.

_Please don't let it end like this,_ thought Milne, _maybe the guards will open the holds and let us out_. He could not stop himself from sliding down. In the dark, he could see a hideous tangle of bodies thrashing about in the water. The water was rapidly rising.

_It's not rising_ , he thought, _we are sinking_. _No, not like this, not like this._

The ship went to the bottom with most of the surviving male members of New Guinea's settler society, and the soldiers of Lark Force.

Epilogue

In August 1945, Australian troops marched into Rabaul after the Japanese surrender. Amongst the troops was Captain David Lawson, son of Cliff and Freda, who had landed with the forward elements of the 5th Division on the south of island the year before.

He did not recognise the town. Heavy Allied bombing had obliterated the Rabaul he knew. Not one building remained standing. Rabaul had been under Allied air and naval siege for two years. The Japanese garrison had dug underground tunnels to shelter from air raids. On the outskirts of Rabaul, they had developed large-scale vegetable gardens to feed their soldiers and civilians trapped in the town. The Japanese were ready to fight to the death but the allied strategy was to isolate Rabaul and cut it off from supply by air and sea.

Lawson picked his way through the rubble-strewn streets. Thousands of Australian and American soldiers swarmed over the town. He watched groups of forlorn Japanese prisoners clearing the rubble and unloading ships under guard, while others laboured in the extensive vegetable gardens. Japanese soldiers stood dazed wondering how they had lost the war. Most of them had never fired a shot.

The army searched for surviving Australian POW's and settlers but found few of them. They released Chinese residents from their jungle prison camps and they returned to what was left of Rabaul's Chinatown.

Lawson was determined to find out what had happened to his parents and Milne. Mary had written to him asking if he could find some trace of Francis. He first went to Milne's home in Namanula. The house was still standing. Walking up to the front door, he remembered better times, when Mary and Francis would have stood on the verandah welcoming him. He asked local villagers and plantation workers if they knew what had happened to Francis but no one knew. He next drove to the Lawson plantation but the house and sheds lay in ruins. Villagers told him that the Japanese had arrested Cliff and Freda in 1942.

He went to the Japanese POW camp to find members of the Japanese security services. He discovered that Tankara had survived the war but was facing trial for war crimes. Tankara gave him a full account of the trial and executions of Cliff and Freda. He also confirmed that all surviving members of Lark Force, and all captured Australian and British civilians, including Francis Milne, were aboard the _Monteverdi Maru_ on the way to China when an American submarine torpedoed it, sending the prisoners to a watery grave. A senior Japanese officer confirmed that the ship did not make it to China and all prisoners were presumed lost.

Lawson wrote to Mary telling her that Francis, along with all the male settlers had probably perished aboard the _Monteverdi Maru_ , and that the Japanese had executed Cliff and Freda.

The following day, he dug up his parents bodies and gave them a proper burial in Rabaul cemetery.

With the war over, Lawson decided to leave New Guinea and settle in Australia. Everyone he knew from New Guinea settler society was dead. Rabaul held too many painful memories for him. He inherited his father's plantation and other business interests including the gold he and Milne had accumulated and stored in an Australian bank.

The war to end all wars was over, and the survivors picked up the pieces.

Before Lawson left New Guinea, he had one more thing to do. He hired a stonemason and had him engrave a list of names on a simple headstone. He took the headstone up into the hills overlooking Rabaul, and placed it facing out to sea.

There is a headstone sitting on a lonely hill above Rabaul that is still there, but it is weathered. On it, he listed the names of all those of his family and friends who perished in New Guinea:

Francis and Asami Milne, Cliff Lawson and Freda Lawson, and all the soldiers and settlers on the _Monteverdi Maru_.

