Daniel grabbed Amelia’s hand and raced towards the hangar that housed her Moth. It’d been years since the two had flown together, but they jumped into action, easily falling into a natural rhythm to prep the plane for flight. He pumped the propeller and moved the wedges from behind the wheels, before climbing onto the wing towards the rear pilot’s seat.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Amelia asked. She looked up at him, hand on hip.
“Uh … flying,” Daniel replied.
“So, you assume that because you’re a man you get to take the lead?”
Daniel’s lip inched upwards. “I’d never dare to assume anything with you, Meels.” He reached down to pull her onto the wing, squeezing her hand as they paused to stare at each other, specks of brown colouring her emerald eyes.
He couldn’t believe what a fool he’d been last night, letting her believe he didn’t want this, didn’t want her. Staying up all night to watch the moon make its way across the sky, setting behind the Hertzog Range until rays of sunlight peeked out from the other side, his mind churning the entire time, knowing he had to be firm with her – that he didn’t have a choice. And yet that look of humiliation that had flooded her face wouldn’t stop flashing in front of him. And he was the one who had caused it. He’d raced to find her as soon as he’d heard about Pearl Harbor, running into Evelyn along the way, who was also searching for her. She’d said Amelia wasn’t in her bed that morning, and Daniel immediately knew she must’ve fallen asleep at his place, waiting for his return. As much as he wanted to go to her, to atone for his shame, he told Evelyn to fetch her. It was best she was with her family during this time. But as soon as he saw Amelia in the hangar, puffy cheeks and blotchy eyes, he knew what an idiot he’d been.
Now standing in front of her on the wing of a plane, her breath on his lips, he could feel every part of his body awakening. Their countries were at war, and he wouldn’t waste one more minute pretending he didn’t want this. She drew in a breath, and he could not help but kiss her. It started slow, both of them afraid of how the other would react, until they fell into a rhythm, like they had last night. When they were done, he rested his forehead against hers, his heart beating with hers.
She stepped into the rear cockpit and pulled a pair of goggles over her eyes while Daniel jumped back down to wind the prop. He gave it a couple of thrusts, heart racing from that kiss, before climbing into the front as the plane roared to life. Amelia eased it out of the hangar towards the top of the runway, vibrations rumbling beneath them.
“Ready?” she said into the Gosport tube that connected the two seats.
“Always!” Daniel replied, reaching his hand back.
Amelia’s fingers immediately found his, squeezing tightly and only letting go as the plane took flight. Daniel looked below. Salamaua swept across a thin strip of land, the mouth of the Francisco River swelling into the ocean on one side, while the harbour glistened like a cold beer on a hot day on the other. Even though he did that take-off every day, it wasn’t until that morning – his entire life now up in the air – that he truly appreciated how beautiful it was. He had to be willing to do anything to protect it.
“You sure you’re ready?” Amelia said again.
“Ready for what—” But before he could finish, she was off, giving the Moth full throttle. They climbed vertically into the clouds until the plane sloped onto its back and looped into a full three-sixty circle. His stomach rolled with the exhilaration of weightlessness. She eased off the throttle and arced the plane down, coursing over the Huon Gulf, the Hertzog Range to their left, the treetops like broccoli, and the towering peaks of the Rawlinson to their right. She swooped into Lae, past Voco Point, Hotel Cecil and the terraced houses that hugged Mount Lunaman, its thick blanket of verdant foliage speckled with bursts of orange from the Flame of the Forest trees. She flew low over the aerodrome, past the Jacobsen Plantation, densely covered with thick raintrees, all the way out to the Edwards, Heath and Whittaker Plantations, taking care not to brush the towering palm trees that lined the dusty road, before pushing the throttle up again and looping the Moth back around.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Daniel said when she levelled the plane back over the ocean towards Salamaua.
Amelia laughed. “You could’ve taken over at any point.”
“Wouldn’t want to hold you back,” he replied.
She landed the plane with an ease that came only to avid aviators, but when they climbed out of the cockpit, Daniel sensed how uneasy she was.
“What now?” she asked as she stepped onto the wing and looked out to the grey clouds that’d formed above the mountains. A low rumble of thunder echoed inland.
“I guess we wait,” he replied, knowing that waiting was sometimes the hardest thing of all.
Daniel tapped his foot impatiently as he waited in line, the only person of colour in a sea of white. The other men looked at him curiously, as if he were a leper who’d escaped his colony. Daniel did his best to ignore them, a trick he’d learned from an early age. When he got to the front, he was met by the intense gaze of two middle-aged Australian men who were both dressed in khaki shirts with brass NGVR shoulder badges.
“I’d like to sign up for the Rifles,” Daniel said, chin held high. The men looked at each other, as if waiting for the other to speak, which prompted Daniel to say, “I believe you need every man you can get?”
The man with a thin moustache replied, “Uh … we’re only accepting Australians or Europeans.”
“I’m European,” Daniel tried to say with conviction. “My father was Scottish. You may’ve known him? Harry Carmichael?” He hated using his father’s name, but he needed the clout it lent him.
“Afraid I don’t,” the moustachioed man replied and looked past Daniel, yelling, “Next!”
“Please, sir,” Daniel added, stepping forward so the man behind him couldn’t push past. “I’d really like to help. I’m young, fit and able. I can even fly a plane … I’m a pilot for George McKenzie, in fact.” Daniel pulled his shoulders back, hoping if he boasted with enough confidence he’d be able to convince them.
The other man raised his bushy eyebrows. “You’re one of McKenzie’s bois?” he said, enunciating “boys” in such a way that Daniel knew he was using the Pidgin word.
He gritted his teeth and replied, “No, sir. I’m a pilot for Mr McKenzie.”
“We don’t have any need for pilots,” thin moustache replied. “That’s what RAAF’s for.”
“But Kevin Parer told me he signed up. He’s a pilot.”
“Whose family has been here a long time,” bushy eyebrows said.
“So have I,” Daniel interrupted, trying to keep his voice levelled. “I was born here.”
“Clearly,” thin moustache said. “But still, the NGVR is for Europeans and Australians only.”
Daniel inhaled sharply. “As I said, I am European …”
Bushy eyebrows looked past him. “Not European enough. Next!”
Daniel slammed his hand on the table in front of them. “That’s ridiculous!”
“Look, boi, we don’t want your kind,” thin moustache said. “It’s hard enough getting natives to do their jobs properly, I sure as hell don’t want one of you watching my back when the Japs come. Now move aside so I can get through the other blokes.”
Daniel marched off, hands barrelled into fists, wishing he could punch something, but rational enough to know that he’d confirm their beliefs about him if he did. He kicked a coconut tree instead, again and again, channelling his rage into the land he loved so dearly. The land he wasn’t even allowed to protect, all because of the colour of his skin. He was as able as they were, even more so being half their age and actually from New Guinea, with skills and knowledge they’d never possess – an ability to speak the language and appeal to its people. This wasn’t even their country; they were merely custodians, wardens who were clearly in over their head. An entire region was protected by a few hundred blokes with a bunch of old rifles – against the might of the Imperial Army.
Who knew where the Japanese were, when they’d come and what they’d do? Daniel had heard enough reports to know they were fearless, well-trained soldiers ready to die for their empire. How would these blokes match up to that? They would’ve been lucky to have him, and yet he wasn’t even given a chance because he didn’t look like them, wasn’t privileged enough to be born like them – even though, technically, he was like them. It was times like these he wished his father was still alive, the influence of men like Harry Carmichael and George McKenzie going far in the colony. He supposed he could always settle for the latter, even if he hated asking Mr McKenzie for help. But he couldn’t let his pride get in the way. There was too much at stake.
“Mr McKenzie,” Daniel said as he knocked on the door of his office, a windowless room in the back of the airline’s hangar in Lae.
Mr McKenzie was bent over his desk, engrossed in a set of papers that reached to either side of the dark brown kwila wood. It took him a moment to glance up, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “Daniel, boy,” he replied, and Daniel was unsure which version of boy he meant. “Aren’t you on roster to fly today? The lads up in Bulolo really need those parts for the dredges.”
Daniel stepped into the room but didn’t dare take a seat. “I’m about to start but wanted to speak to you first—”
“What about?” Mr McKenzie cut him off, as if he was immediately suspicious.
“The NGVR, sir,” Daniel replied, hoping his voice didn’t convey his nervousness.
“Oh. Right.” Mr McKenzie exhaled, looking to his papers again. “What about them?”
“I’d like to join, sir, but they’re not allowing it.” Daniel paused, waiting for Mr McKenzie to say something. Daniel rubbed the back of his neck as he glanced at the door, wondering if it was too late to abort. He’d been foolish to come here. Mr McKenzie would never help … he had no reason to.
“Why?” Mr McKenzie finally said.
Is he really going to make me spell it out? “They say it’s only for Aussies and Europeans—”
“No.” Mr McKenzie leaned back into his chair, hands resting on his belly, the buttons of his collared shirt straining. “Why do you want to join?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“No, lad.” His voice was firm, devoid of all emotion. “I ask all the lads the same question. Why do you feel the need to join the forces?”
Daniel shifted on his feet. What sort of answer did Mr McKenzie want? This honourable man, a man who had served in the Great War, who’d dedicated his life to providing for his wife and daughters. Surely, he’d understand Daniel’s desire to fulfil his own duty, like any man should?
“Because this is my home,” Daniel said instead. “And I sure as hell ain’t going to let the Japanese stroll in here and take it.”
Mr McKenzie narrowed his eyes again. And then a full body laugh escaped his lungs, echoing off the tin walls, allowing Daniel to relax a little. “Usually the lads give me a stock-standard reply about duty and what not, and while duty is important, it’s not what’s going to sustain you when you’re arse-deep in mud and the bullets are raining down on you. Fighting for what you love is the only real thing that’ll see you through. I’ll talk to the recruiters at NGVR, see what I can do.”
Daniel rocked back on his heels, a smile creeping up his lips. He wondered if his father’s best friend was finally warming to him. He turned to leave, when Mr McKenzie added, “But there’s something you need to do for me.”
Daniel’s stomach tightened, that feeling of accomplishment quickly diminishing. He swallowed and turned back to meet Mr McKenzie’s gaze. “What’s that, sir?”
Mr McKenzie waited a moment to reply, as if he was pondering his answer. “I need you to stay away from Amelia. I’ve gotten word evacuations will start in a few days. I can’t have your relationship with my daughter complicating that. You know what she’s like … what she’ll do to get her way.”
Daniel opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn’t stay away from Amelia, even if he wanted to; it was as if there was an unexplainable power pulling them together. But he could always tell Mr McKenzie what he wanted to hear.
“Fine. I won’t see her.”
“It’ll have to be more than that. You’ll need to write a letter. Tell her you want to end things. That there’s no future.” He pushed a piece of paper and pen towards Daniel.
It was as if the lights had gone out. A sudden coldness hit his core. He couldn’t do that to Amelia. It’d crush her. And it wasn’t true, at least not in the long-run. There was a future, or at least there would be when the war was over. But she was leaving – she had to; the idea of her being here if the Japanese landed was even more bone-chilling than not seeing her again. Plus, he needed to do something to help protect his home, and the NGVR was the only option. If Mr McKenzie could get him in, then he wouldn’t feel so useless, and maybe they’d be able to keep Salamaua in the hands of the Allies, and the unexplainable pull that Amelia and he had would see them together again in the place they both held so dearly.
He stepped forward, taking the pen and paper from Mr McKenzie, hoping to God this was the right choice.