Chapter 3
Georgina McWalter didn’t miss anything, Sarge smiled as he thought about the efficiency and intelligence of the woman that he only had seen for a few days in what seemed a lifetime ago. On a separate sheet of paper, she had outlined a few other interesting facts about what was happening in the Western Pacific as the Japanese pushed south. She also listed a couple of books to read for background information. Sarge made a note of those because he had no idea really about how close Australia came to being invaded by the Japanese. The separate page indicated that she had done her research well and had read them the diary probably in its entirety. A fleeting feeling of irritation and jealousy passed across his mind; she knew her grandfather better than he did at this moment. That was soon replaced with a feeling of gratitude, because without her, he would just assume his grandfather, Wilfred Aloysius Downs was just someone who had gone to war and then spent the rest of his years just as a sheep farmer. There was something more to the man whose faded picture still hung on the wall back up in Croydon. There were no photos of him in battledress which was odd because most families at the time placed portraits of their sons dressed up ready for war, front and centre in the loungeroom, and it was almost sacrilege to remove them as houses were handed on generation to generation.
Sarge decided that he needed somewhere to sit and properly examine the diaries. He wished he had the proper equipment to handle such precious items and then he gave a quiet laugh. If ever there was a place that had special gloves and sanitary conditions, it was a hospital. He checked Sarah and then walked out to the nurses’ station. The two women on duty were quietly chatting and didn’t notice him waiting politely. They were used to being summoned to rooms by buzzers, otherwise they spent the evening shift occasionally doing rounds, filling in forms, watching patient monitors or finding things to occupy themselves. Even in the high dependency ward, where some of the best nurses were, there were periods of inactivity. One of the nurses must have sensed that he was there. She looked up startled and then apologised for her reaction, explaining that all the patients were confined to their beds and visitors had left ages ago. She was aware of who he was and of course why he was there. Special dispensation had been granted. He wasn’t aware of that and that the rules had been broken to allow him to stay with Sarah day and night. He was a stickler for rules and would not have accepted the changes if he’d known they were out of the ordinary. In fact, what he was about to ask, was something that he felt he shouldn’t. The nurse smiled and said that it was no problem to have a small table brought into the room and then she took him to the storeroom and told him to help himself to any equipment he needed.
Sarah was in a private ward in the ICU, but the rooms had been constructed to accommodate three beds for use in an emergency. Sarge had been provided with a bed in the room which was highly unusual, but Sarah’s obstetrician had specifically instructed that to occur. He was of the mind that not all recovery is based on pure medicine and some needs to come from within, aided by the love and support of someone close to the patient. The obstetrician may have been in his fifties, but he was definitely not old school. There was space for a table as well in the room if a couple of the visitor chairs were removed. While Sarge deftly carried the table in after rearranging the furniture, the nurse wheeled an office chair in for him. He very graciously thanked her, however she waved that away saying that at least it got her away from playing cards on the computer. Sarge was very confident that that was something she never did.
Sarah was working as a research assistant at this very same hospital when she met Sarge many years ago. Her thesis that many benefits could be gained by examining and using the toxicity of the poisonous sea creatures on the reef, to heal certain illnesses had been plagiarised by her supervising professor; the same professor who had a terrible reputation for harassing the nursing staff and making unwanted advances to them. Sarah complained to the university about his theft of her idea and was able to back it up with all her own notes. He was summarily removed from the research projects, forcing him not only out of the hospital, but in the end out of Cairns itself. Sarah never knew it, but she was seen as a hero and godsend by the nursing staff and this was passed down over the years. She was something special and when she arrived for the birth of Eloise and everything went awry, many nurses felt that they had an opportunity to pay something back. The fact that her partner was also seen as one of the most upright and admired citizens in Cairns made it even more important to go that extra mile. Sarge and Sarah were completely oblivious of the reasons behind all their special treatment and would have felt embarrassed by it and insisted that it stop if they had known.
With everything set up, Sarge began to carefully look through the various elements of the package. Each numbered book of the complete diary was in a plastic pocket for protection. He selected the first, eased open the pocket and slid the precious hand-written book onto the table. With gloved hands and tweezers standing nearby he looked at the first page.
Diary of James Reardon mid-April 1942 on the island of *****
18th April 1942
Received a letter from Major Charles Delaney NZEF today from what I thought was a new crew member of the shallow bottomed trading boat docked at the jetty. If he is a South African as he claimed, I am a Martian. I’ve met many Australians in my time and it doesn’t matter how he twists his vowels, he can’t hide that accent. As a New Zealander it is much easier to be a South African. That’s what I have known as around here for years. I liked Delaney up until today. He asked little of me except to send radio reports of anything the Japanese were doing that I spotted. He was very interested in ships in particular. In return I got some hard to get supplies smuggled in. It worked fine for me. I was used to the equatorial heat and felt I was doing my bit for those back home. I checked out the man before me. “Long and lean like a string bean” came to mind. He looked pretty young to be a sergeant but that was his rank according to the letter. There was no point in me going crook at him. It wasn’t his fault that he was here. The major thought that I needed babysitting and that this soldier would keep me out of trouble and protect me should the Japanese arrive. The Japanese owned this island anyway, but they left us alone and rarely visited. I flicked through the rest of the guff and wondered who was going to babysit who. That was until I read the report that came with the letter.
“Review of Private Wilfred Aloysius Downs
We had a couple of new recruits handed to us from the AIF to train for deployment as observers on some of the islands way up north in preparation for an expected push by Japan further south. They have had some training in Australia and have been handpicked for us based on their potential to work on their own. One has stood out in the eight-week period of training. Sergeant Wilfred Downs has shown a willingness to put his head down and get stuck into the task at hand. Our company consists of twenty trainees, a corporal who is to train the men in radio communications, a sergeant major and myself who will train the men in camouflage, living off the land and hand to hand combat.
Downs has proven so adept at the use of the radio equipment that he appears very capable of teaching others how to use it. He informed me that he had access to radio transmitters and receivers on his family farm. That is evident as he seems to know more than our corporal.
He is by far and away the best shot in the company. Apparently, that is also due to where he lived. He has told me that during the late twenties and early thirties the family lived on the plague of rabbits that infested the farm. Wool and lamb prices were down and his family struggled through drought after drought. Even bullets were expensive so in order to make sure that the rabbit could be killed and eaten, a head shot was preferred and only one bullet was to be used. He said that with a .22 he could take out a rabbit comfortably at two hundred yards. I found that difficult to believe as the accuracy drops significantly after one hundred and fifty yards due to the weight of the bullet, its speed and trajectory drop. I was proven completely wrong on the firing range as he factored those in quite easily when he borrowed my old .22. I pointed out that he wouldn’t have had to shoot rabbits from that distance, but this tall, lean and quite laconic young man laughed and asked if I had seen the flat, almost desert expanses of North Queensland. He pointed out that there was no cover and with eagles soaring above, rabbits were very skittish and circumspect when they left their burrows. The sound of a shot coming from nearby would see them head below the ground for hours. So, according to him, distance and reducing the amount of gunpowder in each bullet was the answer. That was when I learnt that he could prepare his own bullets by weighing the grains of powder used. On the range with a 303 I have never seen anyone better. I got the impression that he thought what he was capable of was normal. He never made a fuss about it at all.
In hand to hand combat he was willing to learn from the beginning. He was able to use his height and reach to advantage. Based on his previous experience he has either been very lucky or very good. He was demoted from corporal to private but that was overturned and he was promoted to sergeant. Apparently, the striking of an English officer was justified on review. That officer had tried to prevent Downs’ platoon leaving Singapore so that his own troops, who would be arriving later, could board instead. Downs had led the platoon from Malaya to Singapore after his lieutenant and sergeant were killed. He took the platoon to safety cutting across Japanese lines without the loss of another life. There was a citation for bravery has been issued but Downs turned it down.
The other area that he excelled in was surprising. All recruits were given a two-day test at the end of training and released into a small section of the jungle carrying only a knife and a canteen. They had to survive on their own and not be spotted by the corporal, sergeant major or myself. Only Downs managed to last the full forty-eight hours without being spotted. In fact, none of the other recruits had come across him at all during that time. When at last he turned up, he still had a full canteen of water, but also some water pouches made out of a wild pig he had killed. Not only did we have pork on the menu the night of his return courtesy of what he brought back, but also some fish he had caught using a bone from the pig and a line made out of the fine strands he had stripped from the broad leaf plants in the jungle. The impression I got was that he could have quite easily have stayed out there for a few weeks.
I recommend that he be assigned straight away to the Coastwatchers contingent (M Force) without any need for further training.