Published: 3 Apr 2023

Chapter 18

There was news on the wireless regarding the war in the Pacific and Alf calls Owen in to listen with him. Firstly the fighting in New Guinea had intensified with the Japanese pushing harder and further along the Kokoda track, with the Australian troops taking heavy casualties but holding.

“It is well Jim is out of there,” Alf says.

“He heard his mate Kevin Longmire was killed in the fighting last week,” Owen informs.

“I knew Kevin,” Alf gives a saddened sigh.

“They were rugby mates.”

“And the best; where is Jim?”

“I’m not sure, earlier he was feeding Sookie,” Owen says.

There was also more bad news for the American Navy with the loss of another aircraft carrier, to add to the loss of the USS Lexington and Yorktown sometime earlier. Also the Japanese remained determined to win back the airfield on Guadaicanal but it was said that using warships to convey troops because of the loss of freighters meant their supplies were limited.

“The Tokyo Express,” Alf refers to the report of using destroyers as supply ships.

“What’s that?” Owen asks.

“It is a name given to the Jap’s using warships to convey supplies and troop transporters as they are faster.”

“They all sink the same,” Owen surmises.

Alf turns of the wireless, “enough of that. Walk with me as I need to go to the equipment shed.”

While crossing the verandah Alf notices Jim is missing from his usual spot but moments later he is seen with Sookie in the direction of Ruby’s paddock.

“Do you think Jim is improving?” Alf asks.

I don’t rightly know, sometime he appears to have forgotten things that you would believe he shouldn’t, others he describes long past events as if they happened yesterday and in his mind he seems to think they did.”

“It would be best to give him space and let him work his way through his problems. That reminds me, I need you to take the truck over to Jack Wills and collect a dozen laying pullets.”

“How do you connect giving Jim space, to collecting pullets?” Owen makes light of his father’s issue.

“Space, we will need to increase the size of the chicken run. Have Gavin go with you, he can help seeing he’s finished with school.” As Alf spoke a plane passed overhead at an extremely low altitude. Both quickly looked up noticing the starboard engine was bellowing smoke and the second was spluttering. Moments later it passed beyond the tall trees towards the airfield then an almighty crashing was heard.

“That was a Dakota,” Alf suggests.

“It was.”

“Is Chip flying at present?”

“I’m not sure but that wasn’t his plane, nor was it the new one I saw at the strip.”

“How do you know that?”

“The identification number was different,” Owen explains with a measure of relief, “Chip’s craft is A4022 and the new one I saw was W5 and that craft was D8.”

“Good eyes,” Alf complements.

“It was so low I could almost see the pilot’s eyes, I do hope the crew is alright.”

Saturday night with Chip arriving as arranged. Firstly it was Alf showing concern with the crash of the Dakota earlier in the week but as usual Chip passed over any personal fear he may have.

“Did the crew get out?” Alf asks.

“I’m afraid not Alf.”

“It is always a tragedy to lose such young men.” Alf remembers his time in the European trenches in mud, blood and guts, sometimes standing in the rotting remains of one’s comrades,” He quickly shakes away the pain with a sigh, simply saying, “oh well,”

“Where’s Owen, we are supposed to be going for a couple of drinks.”

“He is having a shower as he was late up from the paddock. Go through, I’m sure he won’t mind the intrusion.”

Chip gently knocks on the bathroom door.

“Is that you Gavin, I won’t be a sec’.”

“It’s Chip, Owen,”

“Come in, you won’t see anything you haven’t seen before.”

Chip enters, “nice body,” he quietly credits.

“I’d have you here and right now if we were alone,” Owen whispers.

“No time for that, hurry up and get dressed before the night is over.”

Once in the jeep and alone Chip sniffs the air, “what are you wearing?”

“Old Spice, I stole it from dad.”

“I like it but it is a little strong, I suggest a little less next time,” Chip laughs, “besides you don’t need scent to attract me, engine oil would suffice but I must admit it helps.”

“Winnie calls perfume fuck-me-love.”

“Winnie is what I need to talk to you about.”

“I hope you didn’t tell Hank, Winnie has already given me curry for telling you.”

“No but he must know something is up, as he again asked Winnie out and she wouldn’t speak to him.”

“What happens if you get me pregnant,” Owen makes light.

“We haven’t got that far as yet but it could be fun trying.”

“Hah.”

“I could take you home as a war bride,” Chip suggests.

“Yea sure thing.”

“Now about Winnie, I have a buddy at the base who happened to be a medic and in Civvy Street. He was a private practitioner in Maryland, working at a hospital in Baltimore, the Johns Hopkins and majoring in women’s problems,” Chip pauses before stating the obvious, “although there isn’t much call for that in the air force, even if some of the men act like women.”

“Would he do it?”

“He will, as the top brass don’t like their men causing trouble with the locals, so they often turn a blind eye towards such procedures. Even so it will have to be done at the base and with complete secrecy. Like most things in the service, as long as it doesn’t come out than it didn’t occur.”

“What now?”

“You get Winnie’s agreement and I’ll make the arrangements.”

“I’ll call in and see her early in the week.”

“Right, now that’s settled; let’s do some drinking but first.” Chip pulls of the road into a thicket on a side track, “come here, I’ve waited all week for this.”

Monday’s travel into town while passing the airfield was a stark reminder to Owen that there was a war in progress and he was quickly becoming more than attracted to one who companionship could be taken from him at any time. At the southern end of the field and clearly visible was the wreckage of the crashed Dakota from the previous week. All about the wreck, the grass was blackened and burned with a number of trees snapped amid, as the pilot obviously attempted to bring his craft safely home. The craft’s tail was precariously pointing skywards with no sight of the cockpit beneath a jumble of crushed metal. “Oh Chip,” Owen simply whispered and blocked such thoughts from rising further.

May, as was her usual, had supplied a long shopping list and there was the material that she had ordered through Winnie at Jebreen’s, giving Owen excuse to visit his sister with Chip’s suggestion. He planned his arrival at Winnie’s work to coincide with her lunch break, so he could talk privately but on arrival found the shop to be quite busy.

“Busy,” Owen states the obvious and stands to one side not to appear conspicuous.

“Mostly timewasters,” Winnie whispers as Pam helps a rather large women, as she attempts to fit into a very small dress.

“But Mrs. Allen it is not your size,” Pam calmly explains but the woman is adamant and takes the garment to the fitting room. Pam comes away and approaches Winnie, “she has already torn one at the seam.”

“She’s rich enough put it on her account,” Winnie suggests.

“The boss won’t be happy either way as she is usually a good customer,” Pam says and racks a number of garments while the woman can be heard complaining from the fitting room. Eventually she calls for assistance.

“How is the fit Mrs. Allen,” Pam sarcastically asks through the drawn curtain.

“It is too small and there is a tare at the waist; have you the same in a slightly larger size?”

“Slightly!” Pam criticizes.

“What did you say girl?”

“I said there is a war on Mrs. Allen, it is hard to get product.”

The woman returns and passes the now damaged garment to Pam.

“Would you like to try some other design in a larger size Mrs. Allen?”

“Possibly a tent,” Owen whispers to Winnie who laughs but quickly becomes stony with a glare from the woman.

“I’ll try down at Wilsons, I am sure Karin is more obliging.”

The woman gives a huff as she departs.

“Another time waster, she was in last week and I’m sure she tried on the same dress,” Pam gripes and turns to Owen, “how is Jim?”

“I passed on your regards,” Owen says as Pam is called away by a second customer.

“Have you come about mum’s material?” Winnie asks.

“Yes that and the other.”

“The material is in but what of the other?”

“Are you about ready for lunch?”

“Five minutes.”

“Then I’ll shout you at the café.”

Pam returns from racking a number of garments; “what else did Jim have to say?” she asks.

“In what way Pam?”

“I thought he may like to go to the town hall dance on Saturday night. There is a jazz band coming up from Townsville and doing the rounds of the tablelands, I hear they play the latest music from America.”

“I don’t think Jim is ready for dancing, you know with his wound and all.”

“I’ll go to lunch now Pam,” Winnie appears impatient, taking her brother by the arm and almost dragging him from the store. Once outside the questions commences, “Have you come up with a suggestion other than me telling mum and going away for a while?”

“Chip has.”

“What can Chip do?”

Owen explains the situation while taking their time in reaching the café. Once inside he orders fish and potato chips, assuring his was served with lashings of vinegar and salt.

“You use too much salt, it isn’t good for your arteries,”

“Never mind my arteries, what about Chip’s idea. Do you agree?”

“I would feel somewhat exposed being at the base.”

“Wouldn’t that be the same wherever you have it done?”

“I guess so,” Winnie checks the time, “I have to return in a couple of minutes so Pam can have her lunch break.”

“Should I give Chip the go ahead?”

“Yes but how would it appear me a civilian and a woman arriving at the base and not part of the catering staff?”

“Chip suggested he would say you wished to join our air force as a nurse and wanted to have a look around the facilities, or something like that.”

“What of Hank, what if he sees me?”

“Chip has also thought of that, he would arrange for a day when his flight is away, as for others at the base they would be too busy looking at you than wondering why you are there and he will make sure the guard at the gate knows you are coming. He also suggested it would be a good idea to show as much bust as possible, and a little knee.”

“Men,” Winnie simply retorts to such a suggestion.

With his mother’s shopping list filled, or in most and without having to bribe old man Pollard, Owen as was his habit, approached the Dunlop bar for a quick beer before returning home. Also what was becoming a common occurrence he chanced upon his Uncle Ted as both attempted to enter into the bar at the same time.

“You first lad;” Ted says and steps aside while displaying a preposterous bow of submission.

Owen cringes towards his uncle’s elaborate attitude, “Are you following me Ted?” he questions.

“Not at all young Owen but we do frequently appear to be at the same place at the same time, then again it is a small town and my time is mostly my own.”

“I was going to have a cold one but it is getting late and I should be on my way,” Owen says not wishing to be caught in conversation with his uncle for any extended period and most defiantly not in public.

“Then I’ll shout you one,” Ted offers.

Owen hesitates.

“Come on lad, surely one quick beer with your old uncle can’t do any harm?”

More hesitation but Ted’s hand is guiding him in.

“Not here – at the Royal,” Owen half consents as the Dunlop is his father’s watering hole and more than likely there would be a number of Alf’s mates at the bar.

“Then the Royal,” Ted agrees and both walk the short distance to the Royal’s bar. Once inside Ted orders the drinks and settles beside Owen with questions.

“Is Jim back home?”

“He hasn’t been released from the army yet but I believe he will be soon.”

“How bad was his injury?”

“Bad enough but improving,” Owen relates without mentioning his brother’s mental problem.

“Does Jim ever talk about me?”

“No why?”

“It is a simple question,” Ted appears to be evasive.

“Did something happen between you and Jim?” Owen asks.

“Did I say that?”

“You don’t have to, your question and dad’s warnings say most of it.”

“No nothing untoward I assure you. I believe you are kicking around with some fly-boy?”

“Not kicking around as you say, I’ve already told you he is a friend of the family and Winnie went out with him a couple of times.”

“Winnie’s a lovely girl and could do much better than becoming involved with foreign servicemen but can I give you a gentle warning lad?” Ted says.

“I’m not sure where this conversation is heading Ted,” Owen nervously answers.

“Simply be careful where you and the fly-boy park the vehicle at night, that’s all.”

Owen is about to explode into anger but the heat is lowered when Ken Francis an associate of his father acknowledges his presence while disregarding that of Ted.

“Not drinking too hard I hope young man,” Ken cautions.

“No Ken I was about to leave.”

Without finishing his beer, or further acknowledging Ted, Owen gives Ken a nod and a forced smile then he departs.

Once out side he takes a nervous breath.

‘What was that all about?’ he thinks.

‘Ted is starting to get on my nerves.’

‘Shit, Ken will tell dad, I’m really in for it now.’

On his return home Owen pauses close to the entrance to the airfield discovering Chip’s old aircraft was missing but the replacement was being loaded and Chip could clearly be seen close by with one of his crew. Owen thought of diverting to the field to let Chip know Winnie had agreed to go ahead with his offer. Thinking better of doing so he again started the truck and headed for home.

Now there was an added concern with his Uncle as his thoughts digressed to their meeting at the Royal and Ted’s warning.

Had Ted been spying on them and for what reason?

‘Be careful where you park,’ Owen brings to mind.

‘It couldn’t relate to our camping at Eacham, Ted had already mentioned that.’

A further flash of memory as Owen recalled when Chip pulled off the road on the previous Saturday night but it was dark and impossible for anyone to see them from the road. Also as rain had been expected the jeep had a canopy and it had been extended, therefore excluding them from sight. If that was so, how would Ted or his informer know he was in the jeep? Although there was a vehicle that slowly passed with its lights on high beam, illuminating the inside of the jeep as Chip pulled off the road. It was all too much to bother further as Owen digressed to Ken Francis seeing him with Ted and if he would inform Alf.

Once home and with the truck garaged Owen was met by Alf and by his expression something was concerning him, “you took your time son?”

Owen collected his mothers shopping and the package of material from Jebreen’s without answering.

“Did you meet up with anyone in town?”

Owen releases a huff, “obviously you already know the answer to that question.”

Before Alf could further his displeasure May called from the rear door, “I’ve made a fresh batch of scones, would anyone like a cuppa’?”

“Not for me love;” Alf declines.

“Yes I will thank you mum,” Owen agrees believing it would be a circuit-breaker from his father’s pending questioning. He commences to follow May.

May returns inside to put on the kettle.

“I’ll speak to you later,” Alf says.

Owen sharply turns on his heels, “no dad, here and now,” obvious anger was building in the lad, “firstly I didn’t go looking for Ted, if anything he cornered me and secondly I’m fed up with the secrecy around you, Ted and whatever bother you have with him and if your mate Ken Francis wants to act like some old woman spreading stories and rumor, then tell him to get his facts straight.”

Alf became lost for words as it was the first time any of his sons rebelled against his wishes, least of all Owen. He therefore loses all forward motion as Owen continued on towards the house, entering without further word with his father.

“What was that about?” May asked as Owen placed the box of groceries on the kitchen table.

Owen disregarded his mother’s question, “I got your material.”

“Thank you dear.”

“Also for once I managed an almost full shopping list, without having to bribe old man Pollard.”

“I heard raised voices.”

“You did Megan-may.”

“I hope you didn’t upset your father, he has had a rough time of late.”

“No mum he upset me.”

“Should I ask?”

“No.”

Gary’s stories are about life for gay men in Australia’s past and present. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Conder 333 at Hotmail dot Com

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