There was some concern that a German U-boat or Japanese submarine might attack and sink the USS West Point. It was meant to sail without escort south through waters that the Axis powers wished to dominate. But after cruising out of the Gulf of Eden it changed course and headed south along the east coast of Africa. Then it swung east towards Fremantle. Lights were forbidden at night to avoid the big converted carrier being spotted by the enemy. But concerns were fewer on the sail across the Indian Ocean, although the eccentric American Captain F. A. Kelly caused a little apprehension among the troops by deciding to run his gun crews through some exercises. These included throwing targets overboard and circling them while firing for hours at a time as well as following a course away from Australia.
‘He is showing us gunners how it’s done,’ Brooker observed, ‘an impressive waste of ammunition.’
‘And wasting precious hours in taking us home,’ Harlor remarked.
Jut-jawed and aggressive Kelly did not endear himself to the diggers by decreeing that alcohol was forbidden on board. He claimed to Australian officers that he wanted everyone to be battle alert, and that booze would not allow this. But his dictatorial approach was no deterrent for the diggers, who had smuggled on board a range of alcoholic drinks, from quality champagne and Scotch to cheap beer. Even some Americans disobeyed the directive. Kelly, who strutted his ship like a maritime Caesar, also did not want any bad behaviour or brawling on board between the diggers and the American crew. He knew of fights on the Australian mainland between the two nationalities. But on the ship and in this situation of support, the Australians appreciated the Americans, including the number of African-Americans, for their friendly nature and music, especially jazz. In turn the Americans fitted into the spirit of things and played two-up with the diggers.
Rumours reached the Rebels that Kelly wanted a ‘clean’ ship with no pets on board. Captain Bartholemew took Moody aside on the deck one morning and confirmed the rumour.
‘Kelly’s a fastidious type,’ the captain said, ‘a bit inflexible and a strict disciplinarian. It’s not like being on a Pommie ship, which is always a little slack. Kelly does not want to be second to anyone in terms of following laws, no matter how draconian, not just to the letter, but to the final syllable. He has heard that the other troop ships are about to take action against pets, so now he is too. If you hear of anyone with an animal, tell them to make sure it’s not spotted.’
‘Thank you, I will, Captain,’ Moody said. ‘If I may ask: the boys were wondering what your role is?’
‘Let’s just say the Curtin government wants a smooth liaison between the division and the Americans on the trip.’
‘So you’re a liaison officer?’
‘Something like that,’ Bartholemew replied, and then asked, ‘Have you heard of anyone with a cat on board?’
‘No, can’t say I have,’ Moody said with a reflective frown.
‘Kelly hates cats. Says he will personally grab it by the tail, swing it over his head and launch it overboard, if one is found.’
‘Hmm,’ Moody mouthed reflectively, ‘how does he feel about dogs?’
‘Let’s just say, not like us.’
This discussion kept the Rebels on alert. Horrie had to remain locked in the cabin with a minder, even during the heat when crossing the Equator. The Rebels fanned him and kept him cool with wet towels through the ordeal, but he seemed to take it all well, especially with the perpetual attention. The trip was easy compared to the trials he had been through in the pack, the hole in the ground and in Stuka attacks. He was allotted the best spot in the cabin at night, underneath the inlet that supplied fresh air. Horrie had no trouble with the daily morning cabin inspection. He was even keen for the game of concealment in the pack, especially now that it was for no longer than five minutes.
With Horrie appearing safe, at least for the moment, Moody began to worry about Imshi, who was travelling back with the Anti-Tank Regiment on another ship. He spoke to Harlor in the Rebels’ cabin.
‘Could you get a message to another ship?’ Moody asked him, knowing that if anyone could it would be Harlor.
‘We’re not allowed that luxury, I’m afraid. They say the Japs might pick up stray messages and pinpoint our location. I doubt it myself because we can create our own rogue codes, ship to ship, and the Japs wouldn’t be able to work out what was what. But those are the rules.’
‘Could you cosy up to some of the Yank signallers and push messages to and from McKellary? I’m concerned that he may not know Imshi is in danger.’
‘I am already acquainted with the top signallers on board. They want me in the Signals room to talk engineering and radios all the time. Even I get bored!’
‘See what you can do, mate, please.’
A few hours later, Harlor reported back to Moody: ‘I got through, and received an odd response. Mac sent a strange message saying that Imshi had “disappeared.” ’
‘Sounds ominous.’
‘I sent a message back asking him to clarify, but there has been no further response. It could either mean that Imshi has been destroyed, or that Mac is covering his arse with the message, indicating that Imshi has been well hidden.’
On 23 March, Brooker was walking up the steps to the top deck when he noticed Sergeant Fitzgerald and Captain Bartholemew in earnest discussion deep along a corridor. Brooker informed Moody, who went to see Bartholemew in his cabin near the sergeant’s quarters.
‘Yes, Fitzgerald came to me,’ Bartholemew admitted, ‘but I can’t disclose the substance of the conversation.’
‘But does he know about Horrie?’ Moody asked.
‘No, he only suspects Horrie is on board. He has no proof, and nor do I.’
‘So he was urging you to—’
‘As I said, Private, it was a privileged conversation. But I will say that Captain Kelly is set to assert his authority over pets on board. My advice is to stick to your story, and don’t change it.’
After 12 days at sea, Kelly summoned Lieutenant Jim Hewitt, Brooker and Moody to his office in the captain’s cabin. Already there and looking distraught was Sergeant Bill McMillan, the owner of Ooboo the cat, and the Americans in charge of onboard discipline: the ship’s adjutant, Major Harrison, and the ship’s master-at-arms, C. P. O. Radcliffe. Kelly began with a lecture about cleanliness, animal diseases, particularly rabies, and Australia’s strict quarantine laws for flora and fauna. He ended with a tirade about him having strict orders to destroy all animals on ‘my ship before disembarking anywhere in Australia.’
Just as he finished a sustained burst of warnings about ‘the dire consequences for disobeying me,’ Captain Bartholemew slipped into the office.
‘Having said all that,’ Kelly continued, his face flushed and pointing at McMillan, ‘I am giving you two hours to round up your cat and hand him in. If you don’t do this, I shall not berth in Australia. How will your fellow Australians feel about that? Deliver one stupid cat or they don’t go home!’
McMillan began to say something and stopped himself. Instead he saluted and backed out of the cabin.
‘All this trouble over one goddamned cat!’ Kelly fumed. He turned his attention to the new arrivals. ‘Now I know there is a dog on board. I want it produced, otherwise, gentlemen, this ship will not dock. I mean it!’
‘Captain Kelly,’ Bartholemew said, ‘none of those gentlemen seem to know if there is a dog—’
‘I have been told about it!’ Kelly snapped. ‘Horrie … the er … Wog … or something. What’s a “wog” anyway?’
‘It’s a term the Australians used for Arabs in general. Can be a term of endearment, at times.’
‘I don’t care what it is. Produce the animal!’
‘Sir,’ Bartholemew began again, ‘there is a distinct difference between the alleged cat and the alleged dog.’
‘I know,’ Kelly said, breaking into a twisted grin, ‘one can climb trees and the other barks, right?’
Bartholomew laughed politely.
‘Not exactly, Captain. The cat, I am told, was just an adored part of one company; a pet. Whereas I am led to believe that the alleged dog was an important part of an entire machine gun battalion.’ He began describing the reports of Horrie’s activities in saving lives but Kelly cut him short. He was furious.
‘When you do produce this goddamned dog,’ he said, ‘I am not going to throw it overboard. I am going to throw it in the ship’s furnace!’
The cabin fell silent. From his manner, no one disbelieved him.
‘May I say something, Captain,’ Moody said, stepping forward and introducing himself, ‘I know there was much feeling towards this alleged—’
‘So you admit there is a dog, Private?’
‘No, sir, I am just reporting to you something very important about the mood of the boys of my battalion. They are close-knit and very tough men, sir. Very experienced fighters. If this dog exists and has done all the things claimed, including saving the lives of every one of them, then they will not take kindly to any threat to er … do what you just said, sir.’
Kelly took a step towards Moody. ‘Is that some kind of threat, son?’ he asked, his manner fearsome.
‘No,’ Hewitt interjected, ‘Private Moody is trying to help you run a peaceful ship, Captain. There may be trouble if any alleged dog is harmed. And none of us want disharmony on your excellent vessel.’
Kelly’s face boiled. Even his ears went red. But before he could explode, Bartholemew intervened: ‘And harmony is my job, as you know, Captain …’
Kelly ignored Bartholemew and stepped closer to Moody. The captain looked as if he might strike him.
‘I want to hear from you, Private,’ he said, pointing at Moody with force, ‘what you are saying will happen if I throw the dog in the furnace!’
‘If there is a dog, Captain,’ Moody said, staring back at Kelly, ‘and if you throw it in the furnace …’
‘Come on, son, out with it!’
‘With respect, Captain, the men of my battalion are wild enough, when pushed to the limits, to dish out similar treatment. I am only letting you know, not as a threat, but as one who has been with these hard men fighting against the Nazis in Greece and Crete. I am only trying to be helpful. No one wants trouble. Not this close to home.’
Kelly gaped. His face drained.
‘Did you say “similar treatment”? Are you suggesting that they would throw me in the furnace?!’ the captain asked in a mixed tone of haughtiness and anger.
‘I don’t think Private Moody meant that,’ Bartholomew said in a placatory tone.
‘No, no,’ Hewitt said, ‘he didn’t mean that, Captain.’
‘But I did mean that,’ Moody said, ‘not as a threat, but as an explanation of the consequence of any such action.’ Hewitt dismissed Moody and led him and Brooker out of the office, leaving Bartholemew to deal with the seething captain.
Kelly could not be calmed down. He slowed the ship until it was dead in the water and in sight of the mainland. The passengers soon learnt why they were not continuing into Fremantle. The ship sat in the water for four hours. After further threats and intimidations, Bill McMillan felt the pressure of the 8000 diggers enticingly in sight of Australia and their families and friends. He finally submitted Ooboo, in a cage, to the adjutant, Major Harrison.
‘I think you’d better not see this,’ the adjutant said. McMillan was visibly distressed. He hurried below deck. Harrison summoned the master-at-arms, Radcliffe, and handed the cage containing the unsuspecting Ooboo to him. Radcliffe then took the caged pet to the top deck and threw the cage over the side of the ship. He watched it sink below the waves, before reporting his duty done to the adjutant, who then told Kelly.
‘Good,’ Kelly remarked, ‘then to engines, Mr Adjutant, and full steam ahead for Fremantle.’ A day later, Bartholomew got word to Moody to visit his cabin in secret, and he told him: ‘I just wanted to let you know that Captain Kelly is not going to make any special search for that, er … alleged dog. Amidst all the bluff and bluster, he took your word of caution seriously, although he would never admit it. His little face-saving comment was that he wanted the ship to remain a harmonious one so close to our boys making it home.’
‘You don’t know how pleased I am to hear that, Captain, thank you.’
‘Of course, he could boast that he got his way with poor Ooboo.’
‘It’s a pity we could not have saved the cat. He was a special, brave little fella. Didn’t see much of him because he and Horrie weren’t close. But on all accounts from C Company, he was terrific.’
‘What an ego that Kelly has! Stops his ship off the coast to put pressure on 8000 diggers, who’ve given their all for their country and the Allied cause in combat! All over a sweet little moggie!’
‘I just wondered how you managed to persuade him not to keep his threat to find and burn Horrie?’
‘I really just extended or modified your words. I emphasised again Horrie’s importance to the battalion. I reminded him of how fit he thought the gunners were when he saw them exercising on the deck; how some, although not all, had their weapons with them. I sowed the seed of what even the mildest munity on his ship would do to his reputation and how it would look from far-off US Military HQ in Washington; how the publicity would paint him as, using the American colloquialism, “the bad guy” for throwing innocent little pets overboard. He knew it was my job to deal with this sort of thing and keep the peace. After the steam stopped coming out of his ears, he saw my point of view.’ Bartholemew paused and chuckled. ‘But it was your wonderful, gutsy bluff that really put the wind up his kilt.’ He scrutinised Moody’s face. ‘It was a bluff, wasn’t it?’
‘No,’ Moody said, ‘it wasn’t. I canvassed many members of the battalion, not just my platoon. They have no particular allegiance to Captain Kelly. But they do to Horrie. If he was killed the way described, I don’t just believe they would take similar action against the captain; I know it.’
Bartholemew blinked. He was stunned. After a few seconds he raised his eyebrows and nodded. ‘Just a word in advance so if anything happens it does not come as a shock to you,’ he said, ‘Captain Kelly will be making out a report on the events that occurred in his cabin. Your remarks will figure in that report. There may be repercussions if your words about throwing him in the furnace are taken seriously by the Australian authorities.’
‘I wouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Yes, but these things always look worse on paper. Some petty little Canberra bureaucrat might wish to demonstrate his power.’
‘I really don’t care. I just want to put two feet on Aussie soil.’
‘You mean six feet,’ Bartholemew said, with a grin.
The USS West Point stopped at Fremantle on 26 March 1942 to let the Western Australian diggers and gunners off and there was no shore leave for the rest. The Americans were making their presence felt. Catalina flying boats could be seen wobbling into their new base at Crawley Bay on Perth’s Swan River. American soldiers were putting up anti-aircraft guns on Fremantle Wharf. The USS Pengrove could be seen sailing away from the dock to make way for the huge USS West Point after depositing an advance contingent of the US 197th Coastal Artillery, which had both machine gunners and artillery men. All this activity drove it home to the new arrivals of the 6th Division that they were most likely to be back in action soon.
It was an important time for American–Australian relations. Across the other side of the country on the same day, General Blamey, Australia’s top military commander, arrived from the Middle East to meet American General Douglas MacArthur, who would be the Allied commander in the Pacific leading the counterattack to the Japanese dominance in the region.
The next morning West Point anchored at Port Adelaide and there was to be no kit inspection before leaving the ship. It seemed that Captain Kelly was not concerned any more with what the diggers carried once they left his charge.
The Rebels, as they had done in several countries, closed ranks around Moody and his pack as they walked down the gangway, just in case there was a last-minute hitch. But there was none. The battalion was marched to the picturesque Adelaide Cricket Oval where they would have temporary billets. Once there, Moody released a grateful Horrie. Much to the delight of clapping and cheering Rebels and gunners, his first act on Australian soil was to race straight for the nearest gum tree.