The Ghosts of August, page 12
‘Water,’ Ben eventually croaked, and a shadowy figure leaned over him, producing a water canteen which he put to Ben’s lips. Ben reached out to grip the canteen, swallowing the brackish liquid of life.
‘You speak English?’ the blurred figure asked again.
‘Bloody hell, yeah,’ Ben finally answered when he’d drunk his fill. He attempted to sit up.
‘The native who our men captured said your name is Benjamin Steele and that you are an Australian,’ the young man said. ‘It appears that he might be right.’
Hands helped Ben sit up and the world swirled into sharper focus. He could now see the uniform of an Australian army officer wearing the Tudor rose insignia of the Intelligence Corps on his cap. He could tell by the shadows outside that the sun was sinking.
‘You need to take it easy, old chap,’ the intelligence lieutenant said. ‘You’ve been having the heebie-jeebies from a bout of fever for the last few hours.’
Ben could hear the distinctive sounds of the military all around him. Behind the officer he could see soldiers and sailors with rifles standing guard over supplies of wooden crates on the beach beyond the improvised canvas shelter.
‘We couldn’t transport you aboard any of our ships until we had clarification that you were not a German attempting to flee the island. But I also know from a briefing I received before we arrived that there was an Australian citizen trapped behind enemy lines who had been part of a covert mission before the outbreak of hostilities. From your photograph, and the way you responded to my question, I am satisfied you are Benjamin Steele, and I am sure that your family will be overjoyed to know that you are alive.’
Ben attempted to stand but almost fell when his feet met the floor. While he got his bearings again, the young intelligence officer told him the bout of malaria had almost killed him, and the quinine he had been administered had fought off the fever. Malaria was a recurring illness, he said. Ben would have to be repatriated to a hospital back in Australia.
‘Where is Jacob?’ Ben asked, taking another sip of water.
‘Do you mean the native we took prisoner?’ the officer countered. ‘Now that we have a fair inkling of who you are, and you can vouch for the fact that he is not a German sympathiser, I will issue an order for him to be freed.’
‘That I can,’ Ben replied. ‘It sounds like he saved my life.’
‘The navy will organise transport for you back home when we wrap up our mission here. In the meantime, you will be taken out to the infirmary on one of the destroyers.’
Ben understood that the officer was giving him all the assistance he could. He sagged with relief, finally allowing himself to accept that he was safe in the military arms of his country. His mission was over, and all he could do now was recover fully to find Caroline.
FOURTEEN
The second column to advance towards Bita Paka were not aware of where Bowen’s detachment was located so the commander, Elwell, sent scouts ahead. The long drought had caused a fine dust that rose in clouds, filling nostrils and increasing the men’s thirst as they advanced. The men fighting their way through the dense jungle could not keep up with the small parties moving along the road ahead of the company in squads of six.
A sailor by the name of Mark Batterham approached a tree where he thought he’d seen a sniper, and was peering upwards when a native soldier hiding in the scrub nearby suddenly lunged at him, attempting to seize his rifle. The sailor was quick to react and fought off the man, retrieving his rifle, and as the native trooper turned to run away Batterham shot him dead. When he recovered his breath, Batterham noticed a wire at the foot of the large tree where he thought he had seen the sniper. It led towards the road about a hundred yards away, and Batterham realised it was connected to a mine buried in the road. The sailor also observed that the large tree was in fact a lookout with a view down the road. After a quick search of the area, Batterham and a fellow soldier found an electric battery and firing device, and quickly deactivated the device. Batterham had inadvertently forced the enemy to desert their post, and therefore they had been unable to detonate the landline under the advancing company on the road. It was just one of those lucky moments for the Australians.
Moments later they caught up with Bowen’s detachment – now being led by a Lieutenant Hill – who were in a firefight with the Germans and native police entrenched ahead. The injured Bowen was still there, taking cover behind a tree trunk. He was able to talk and, under the impression that he was dying, begged that the Chinese man who had helped them earlier that day not be allowed to fall into German hands. He also asked that the Zeiss binoculars he had taken from a German officer who had been captured be returned to the man. The day drew on and so did the fighting.
*
A final assault was ordered within eighty yards of the German trench manned by native police.
Lieutenant Hill had wisely discarded all signs of his rank, as it appeared the enemy were deliberately targeting officers.
The order to fix bayonets was given and the men rose to charge the trenches.
The commander of the assault, Elwell, was immediately shot dead even as the German officers in command realised that reinforcements had arrived for the attacking force and that the Australians had outflanked their trench. When the German commander, Kempf, looked around him, he saw his troops cowering, none apparently prepared to fire over the parapet lest they be shot, and at about 1.30 pm a white flag was seen above the German trench. The order to cease fire was issued by Lieutenant Hill, and Kempf came forward to parley, but he refused to believe Lieutenant Hill was the senior officer as he wore no signs of his rank. Hill decided to take Kempf to meet with his senior officer, Commander Beresford, who was on his way from Kabakaul.
After a long and tedious discussion, Kempf agreed to surrender his remaining troops as well as the objective of the Australian mission, the radio station. It was agreed that they would continue along the road towards the radio station flying a flag of truce, with Kempf accompanying them to call on his troops to surrender as they advanced. The Australians were wary of landmines after the discovery of the first one earlier that day, and Kempf was forced to march ahead in case any other mines existed.
The truce party passed one trench uneventfully, but at the next, which was constructed on a steep cutting at the side of the road, the defenders opened fire on the advancing Australians and wounded three, with one of them later dying of his wounds.
The final objective lay ahead and the Australians continued to advance, capturing an unlucky armed German cyclist as they did so. On searching their prisoner, they discovered an order for the remaining defenders of the radio station to retire inland to a place called Toma. With only a thousand yards between them and the radio station, the small party of Australians encountered eight Germans and twenty native troops at a police barracks.
Kempf ordered his countrymen to surrender, but they refused. It was a tense situation until one of the Australians, Lieutenant Bond, having noticed the Germans were only armed with pistols, took the initiative to quickly snatch the weapons from the German officers’ holsters, stunning them with his daring action. The native troops could not fire lest they hit their own German officers who were between them and the Australians.
The German prisoners were marched towards the radio station which was found to be abandoned, and by 7 pm, the station had been captured. Other than the radio mast being pulled down, all the radio equipment was undamaged.
It had been an eventful day, but it was still not over.
*
What the Australians did not know was that the Germans had intended to send a signal to their German Pacific fleet to steam to Rabaul, but a nervous German planter, thinking that he was helping the German defence, had cut the wires – thus preventing the message – or any message – being relayed.
As very little information was being transmitted to the Australian ships offshore, the decision was made to land four companies of infantry, a machine-gun section and a twelve-pounder artillery gun, with orders to make contact with the sailors advancing on the radio station.
Near the shore at Herbertshöhe, David climbed into a longboat from the Berrima to join the fight with his platoon. Watching the jungle and coconut palm–lined shore as the boat was being rowed in by the sailors of the troop ship, David experienced mixed emotions: the excitement of going into combat along with the shadow of fear for his life. But, above all was the fear that he would not prove a competent leader of the men with him in the rowboat.
It took a long time to land the infantry and the artillery gun. Given that the battalion was now faced with almost impenetrable jungle and it was near dark, David ordered his men to bivouac at the beach.
After David had shared the evening meal with his men at their campsite, he went in search of a fellow officer he had befriended when they were barracked at Moore Park. Lieutenant Grahame White was an easygoing man, liked as well as respected by his men. He was a well-known rugby player whose powerful build made him a second rower in the forwards, but the reason David had struck up a conversation with him was that he had discovered White worked as a junior public servant in the Defence Department. David had asked him if he knew of any important persons located on Rabaul, particularly a Countess von Neumann. Grahame had replied that he did not, but that his boss, Mr Archibald Stokes, might. A week later, in the officers’ mess at Moore Park, Grahame had leaned over to David and said quietly, ‘You did not hear this from me, but Archie said there is a lady by that name and title living near Rabaul. Seems she is the daughter of a very influential aristocrat in Germany. That is about all I know, old chap.’
From their shared secret a friendship had developed.
The two men now sat on a log with hot mugs of tea as Grahame lit up his pipe. Around them they could hear the murmur of their troops settling in for the night.
‘So, we bloody well finally got ashore,’ Grahame said, sipping his tea. ‘We should have been the first to land, but the bloody navy wanted the honour, to rub our noses in it.’
‘Well, we are here now and will hopefully get the chance to show what we are made of,’ David said.
‘Indeed. And I suspect that your interest in the countess has been revived, now we are ashore?’ Grahame said with a grin. ‘I have also been informed that you met her when you were in Bavaria, and that the lady is unmarried and a real beauty.’
David blushed and was glad that the night hid his expression. ‘We became friends when I was in Germany a few months ago. I am only concerned for her welfare as someone I know.’
The big infantry officer grinned. ‘Pigs will fly,’ he replied, swilling back the last of his tea. ‘A reputed German aristocratic beauty you just happened to befriend. Pull the other one, Davy boy.’
David could see that he could not fool his friend and fellow platoon commander so he replied simply, ‘You could be right.’
‘Knew I was when you made your request back in Sydney,’ Grahame said. ‘But right now, all we have to do before chasing up old girlfriends is keep ourselves and our boys alive.’
David knew his friend was correct. For the moment the welfare of his men and his duty to his own leadership came first.
*
It was the nature of the tropics so close to the equator that the day and night were of equal measure: at 6 am the sun would rise, just as it set at 6 pm. Breakfast was early, before the sun crept over the hills. David made an inspection of his men, ensuring they had everything they would need to advance on the enemy. He showed a confident face, but inwardly his mind raced with doubts about whether he would lead them bravely and competently. He reflected on his grandfather, Captain Ian Steele, and his father, Josiah; how they might have felt before the coming battle. Had they, too, felt doubt and fear? He also remembered that his uncle Samuel had won a medal for bravery at the cost of his leg in South Africa. War demanded a price on men’s minds and bodies. David wondered if he would have volunteered if he had not known that Caroline was at Rabaul.
Then word reached the battalion that their advance would not yet go ahead, as news had reached the fleet that the radio station at Bita Paka had been captured. David did not know if he was disappointed or relieved, but it meant he would live another day.
*
A message was delivered at dusk to Rear Admiral Sir George Patey from the acting governor of the island, Eduard Haber, who said that he did not have the authority to surrender. A reply was quickly dispatched. As the Australians’ main objective of capturing the radio station had been achieved with the bonus of all German resistance in the Bita Paka region neutralised, the fighting would now be directed towards Toma, where the remainder of the German forces had consolidated and were giving no indication of surrendering.
David and his fellow battalion members were acutely aware that the battle would continue, and that they might be facing death – or worse, being severely wounded and maimed – if they had to take Toma by force of arms. But David also knew that he wore the uniform of an officer in the Australian army, and it was his sworn duty to fight for his King and country.
FIFTEEN
On the other side of the world in Bavaria, summer was dying; soon the leaves would start to turn red, orange and gold.
General Maximillian von Kellermann stood in the vast hunting room of his castle, surrounded by the heads and horns of deer and the tusked boar. He was not in the uniform of his high rank but dressed in a suit originally tailored for him in London.
His son entered the room in his elaborate officer’s uniform and a servant hovering nearby offered him a glass of schnapps and then quietly departed.
The two men faced each other and raised their drinks in a silent toast to fallen comrades.
‘When do you depart for the front?’ the general asked his son.
‘In a couple of days,’ Hermann replied, taking a sip of the fiery liquid. ‘I will join my unit in Belgium and take up my command.’
‘The British fought well at Mons, but their professional army did not have the numbers to hold us back.’ Maximillian’s voice held a touch of sadness for the losses on both sides.
‘I have heard that captured Tommies said a vision of angels appeared over the battlefield and that they are calling them the Angels of Mons.’
‘The supposed angels did not save them, and I suspect that the British have lost the core of their army, but one thing is clear: this war will not be over by Christmas.’
‘You do not think we will capture Paris soon?’ Hermann asked. His father was a high-ranking officer of the Kaiser and Hermann felt he would tell him the truth rather than merely echoing the sentiments of the German military hierarchy.
‘Oh, we will eventually capture Paris, but it will be a hard-fought endeavour. The French have not forgotten their disgrace last century when we captured Paris in that campaign. There is also the fact that the British have a reserve of troops and navies belonging to their empire. They have the Canadians, Indian regiments, South Africans, New Zealanders and Australians. You and I have personal experience with the Australians and are aware of their prowess in the Boer War, along with the New Zealanders and Canadians. If the British are able to mobilise their imperial troops to reinforce them, we may be delayed.’
‘Our intelligence has gleaned that the Australians are going to be deployed to South Africa to put down a Boer rebellion, so will be no threat to us in Belgium and France,’ Hermann said. ‘Nevertheless, I have a recurring nightmare that my dear friend David and I confront each other on the battlefield and that it results in one of us having to kill the other.’
‘I suspect that this war will see many die, but you will not be one of them, my son,’ Maximillian said reassuringly. ‘Your dreams are simply a reflection of the conflict you feel at having your best friend declared an enemy.’
Hermann looked at his father. ‘Have you been reading that Austrian, Freud?’ he asked with a chuckle. ‘You are a soldier, and such psychological babble has no place in the realities we soldiers face.’
‘Our conflict is nothing compared to my dear wife’s pain of having her relatives among our enemies. She was born in Australia but reassures me her loyalty is now to Germany. I suspect that her disclosure of loyalty hides the pain of her memories of her life with her family of years past.’
Despite being wary of Rebecca in his early years, as she was considered a foreigner and followed the Jewish faith, Hermann had come to love his gentle stepmother, who had raised him and his siblings as if she had been their natural mother. Hermann knew that David was also a Jew, but his faith had never caused any differences in their friendship. As it was, Hermann knew there were many Jewish officers and soldiers fighting on the frontline and their proven loyalty was to Germany and not primarily to their religious beliefs.
‘I have seen the reports that the Australians and New Zealanders have made a naval attack on our radio stations in the Pacific and wondered if you had heard anything about my cousin Caroline’s fate? I know she was last known to be in Rabaul.’
The general poured himself another schnapps. ‘I made enquires on behalf of her father,’ he replied. ‘It appears that she was shipped to Samoa before the invasion of Rabaul and that she is safe. It seems that the New Zealanders are considering allowing German civilians to be returned to Germany. A very civilised gesture by our enemy.’
‘That is good,’ Hermann said. ‘I had a strong feeling that David was smitten by my cousin and might use his family resources to find an excuse to travel to Rabaul to make contact with her. But with the current situation, that does not appear possible. I know he was being groomed to head the family business.’ Hermann finished his schnapps and placed his glass on the cabinet.
