Coasts of Cape York Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  THE NAVY CADETS SERIES

  THE ARMY CADETS SERIES

  COASTS OF CAPE YORK

  The Air Cadets

  C.R. CUMMINGS

  COASTS OF CAPE YORK

  The Air Cadets: Book 1

  © Copyright C. R. Cummings 2006

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealings fro the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. The right of C. R. Cummings to be identified as the moral rights author has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000 (Commonwealth).

  National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

  Cummings, C. R.

  Coasts of Cape York.

  ISBN 1 74008 379 2.

  A823.3

  This eBook edition 2012

  Published by DoctorZed Publishing

  www.doctorzed.com

  eISBN 978-0-9872061-4-5

  C.R. CUMMINGS

  COASTS OF CAPE YORK

  The Air Cadets

  DOCTORZED PUBLISHING

  www.doctorzed.com

  DEDICATION

  This book, while a work of fiction, is respectfully dedicated to the air crew of the Royal Australian Air Force who flew the ‘Black Cat’ ‘Catalinas’ in the defence of Australia during the 2nd World War.

  Especially the crew of ‘Catalina’ PB2B A24-204, which was lost without trace over the Laoet Strait

  During operations against the Japanese

  27 January 1945

  And all of whom are ‘Missing in Action’

  Flight Lieutenant J. A. Seage

  Flying Officer P. Laney

  Pilot Officer J. H. Brown

  Warrant Officer M. V. M. Bowness

  Flight Sergeant R. L. Warne

  Sergeant A. S. R. Martin

  Sergeant R. C. Preston

  Sergeant J. K. Thomson

  And in particular Warrant Officer Hector Wickham. Deeply loved younger brother of my mother Mrs Cynthia Cummings (nee Wickham).

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For their help in the preparation of this book the author would like to thank the following:

  The Beck Family of the Beck Collection, Kennedy Highway, Mareeba, for their advice, encouragement and technical information.

  Craig Justo for permission to use his splendid photo of a ‘Catalina’ in flight.

  Mr Graham Orphan, Editor of Classic Wings

  Sqn Ldr John Leroy and the staff of the RAAF Museum, Townsville.

  Sqn Ldr Mel Dundas-Taylor

  For his encouragement and information on aircraft wrecks in NQ

  My late father, Captain H. W. Cummings, Master Mariner, and the ship’s companies of the Wewak and Bonthorpe.

  I would also like to acknowledge Bob Piper whose article ‘The Secret Airfields – Iron Range’ in Flightpath Vol 16- No 2 Nov-Jan 2005 provided details included in Chap 17.

  Torres Strait Heritage Museum and Art Gallery

  Mr A. L. SeeKeee and Ms V. SeeKee

  Wasaga, Horn Island

  ‘Savannah Aviation’

  For information on the B24 ‘Liberator’ crash at Moonlight Creek.

  ALSO BY

  C. R. CUMMINGS

  THE GREEN IDOL OF KANAKA CREEK

  ROSS RIVER FEVER

  TRAIN TO KURANDA

  THE MUDSKIPPER CUP

  DAVY JONES’S LOCKER

  BELOW BARTLE FRERE

  AIRSHIP OVER ATHERTON

  THE CADET CORPORAL

  STANNARY HILLS

  *COASTS OF CAPE YORK

  KYLIE AND THE KELLY GANG

  BEHIND MT BALDY

  THE CADET SERGEANT MAJOR

  COOKTOWN CHRISTMAS

  THE SECRET IN THE CLOUDS

  THE WORD OF GOD

  THE CADET UNDER-OFFICER

  THE SMILEY PEOPLE

  Map 1: Cape York Peninsula

  CHAPTER 1

  WHAT LUCK!

  Willy Williams, 14 years old, a Leading Cadet in the Australian Air Force Cadets and mad keen flyer, looked out the window of the PBY5 Flying Boat and thought he was just the luckiest boy alive.

  “Everything seems to be going my way at the moment,” he told himself. He turned and looked along the interior of the fuselage- cabin seemed too grand a title for such a cramped and bare compartment. His friend, Leading Cadet ‘Stick’ Morton, met his eye and they both grinned.

  “This is great!” Stick shouted above the bellow of the old Alison radial engines.

  Even when Stick shouted Willy could hardly hear him as both wore ear protection to muffle the all but deafening roar. So did all of the other air cadets on the joyride. Only a few, mostly the adult instructors, had intercom attachments.

  There were 12 air cadets and four adult staff on board the restored PBY, along with a ‘crew’ of four. The aircraft was one of only half a dozen in the entire world that was still airworthy and Willy appreciated just how lucky he had been to get the chance to have a flight in it. He had flown in a dozen other aircraft types over the years and made it a point of trying to fly in as many different types as possible. But all of them had been ‘land’ planes with wheels. This was the first time he had flown in a seaplane.

  For a few seconds he pictured their take off from Cairns half an hour earlier and the memory made him smile. The unfamiliar buffeting as the hull struck the waves and the great curve of white bow wave and spray outside the cabin windows had added real novelty to a take-off. ‘I like it,’ he thought happily.

  The girl beside him, also an air cadet, pressed herself against his arm. The pressure added to Willy’s pleasure and he turned and smiled at her. The girl was Stick’s sister and Willy’s girlfriend. Marjorie was a year younger, 13, and a year behind at school, being in Year 8. She was very busty for her age and had a cheerful, freckled face and straw coloured hair. She was very much in love with Willy and was very, very affectionate.

  But Willy’s mind was not on girls at that moment. ‘It isn’t every day you get a chance to fly in a really historic aircraft,’ he told himself. It had indeed been by pure chance that the trip had been organized. One of their air cadet officers, Squadron Leader Sanderson, once their own CO but now a staff officer at Wing HQ, was an old school friend of the wealthy businessman who now owned the restored World War 2 aircraft. When the plane had arrived for a ‘Warbirds’ air show Sqn Ldr Sanderson had requested a joy flight for the cadets. So many cadets had been interested that they had sold raffle tickets and then drawn the seats by lot. The owner and pilot, Mr Southall, had been planning a sightseeing flight up to T
hursday Island in the Torres Strait and the cadets had been allowed to join it.

  Willy also knew he was lucky to be crouched with Stick and Marjorie at the starboard side ‘blister’, one of two which had originally been fitted for gun mounts to protect above and behind. Being in the clear perspex blister gave him a much better view than from in the cabin. In there the cadets had to take turns at peeking through the small circular portholes. Knowing that he had only another ten minutes or so before it was the turn of other cadets to sit in the blister he turned his attention to looking out.

  For the next few minutes Willy’s attention was taken up partly by looking at the scenery and partly by studying the details of the restored World War 2 aircraft. ‘This plane is the real McCoy,’ he thought happily, not being in the least concerned that parts of it were now over sixty years old. ‘This is one of the original ‘Black Cats’,’ he told himself.

  His eye travelled along the long, high-set wing, feasting on the lines of rivets and on the black paint work. The plane had been repainted in its original World War 2 colours, after spending forty years painted bright yellow and red as a fire fighting aircraft in Canada. Some of the black paint was now peeling off, revealing small patches of both bright colours and even some shiny bare metal but that did not dim Willy’s appreciation. In his mind’s eye it just made the aircraft look like it had done hard war service.

  He began a day dream, imagining that he was the tail gunner and that the plane was on the last leg of a long overnight mission up into the Indonesian Archipelago. From his reading he knew that the ‘Catalina’ squadrons of the RAAF had spent much of their time doing enormously long flights, up to 20 hours at a time, from Australian bases right up to the north of New Guinea and to the Moluccas and Sulawesi.

  ‘We have been laying mines in the harbour of Ambon,’ he decided, picturing the Japanese heavy cruiser that then hit one of the mines and sank. ‘And we have had to fight off Japanese fighters on the way back,’ he added. His eyes swept the sky, searching for the imaginary ‘Zeros’ and he pretended in his mind to fight them off, while warning the captain in time to take avoiding action.

  A tremble of minor turbulence Willy just converted to the effect of flak bursting nearby. ‘From that Japanese destroyer that was hiding near that island,’ he thought. He looked down and noted several islands and a whole mass of coral reefs. At that moment the plane was just passing across Princess Charlotte Bay, that huge bight out of the east coast of Cape York Peninsula that is so conspicuous on the map of Queensland. Behind him he could see the brown smear of the coast in the vicinity of Cape Melville and just behind and 5,000 feet below, the large islands of the Flinders Group.

  In fact the only vessel visible was a small white yacht, which showed as a tiny speck heading south near the most northerly island in the group. Willy had an Air Chart with him and moved his finger to identify it. ‘Stanley Island,’ he read. It looked barren and rugged. Large coral reefs began to slide by below, very clear to see from above; dark blue water giving way to a fringe of brown which Willy knew as coral, with the inside area of the reef showing up as a pale blue, aquamarine and even a pale yellow shade.

  Stick leaned over to try to get a better view of the chart and then nudged him and shouted, “What reef is that?”

  “Corbett Reef,” Willy called back. He prided himself in being good at navigation and was sure he was right. From the altitude they were flying at the shape of the whole reef could be seen and it matched the shape on the chart.

  His eyes moved back to watch the ailerons moving slightly and he wondered if the aircraft was on autopilot, or whether the pilot or co-pilot were actually flying it. ‘What a great plane!’ he enthused, again sweeping his gaze over the starboard engine and the barely visible spinning disc of its propeller, then along the underside of the large high-set wing.

  Then he looked down and resumed his daydreams. ‘No, we are flying north,’ he told himself. ‘We couldn’t be on our way back from the ‘Dutch East Indies.’ It took him an effort to call Indonesia that but he knew from his reading of history that back then the Dutch had owned most of the islands to the north of Australia. ‘No,’ he thought. ‘It is 1942 and we are on patrol out over the Coral Sea, searching for the Japanese invasion fleet.’

  That wasn’t hard to imagine as they actually were flying over the Coral Sea at that moment. ‘And plenty of coral too!’ he thought, noting many more reefs, both under them and further off to the east. Here a long, broken line was showing up. It was, he knew, the ‘Outer’ reef, the famous Great Barrier Reef which, as his Geography teacher Mr Conkey was always pointing out, was not a reef at all but actually thousands of reefs. Willy had seen parts of the Great Barrier Reef from the air near Cairns but this was even better.

  To keep a check on where the plane was Willy twisted around and looked out to the port side past the other blister. He actually wished he was in that one because from there he would have had a better view of the coastline and would have found it easier to identify the landmarks. As it was he could see a fair bit, the east coast of Cape York Peninsula being only about 25 kilometres away. The main capes and bays were quite easily identified but he was also keen to note the smaller reefs and islands. He was quite surprised at how many small islands and reefs there.

  ‘And a lot of isolated rocks,’ he noted. ‘Bloody hell, look at that little one just poking out of the sea! What a nightmare for sailors in the old days!’

  He then shifted his attention back to the sea below and to starboard. His mind shifted back to the WW2 daydream. He tried to imagine flying near a fleet of Japanese warships and he remembered reading an account of how ‘Catalinas’ had made some famous sightings of enemy ships, sightings that had been crucial in winning Allied victories. ‘The German battleship Bismarck, she was found by a Cat. But that was the stormy North Atlantic, not this bright sunny day in the tropics.’

  ‘Was it a Cat that first sighted the Japanese aircraft carriers during the Battle of the Coral Sea?’ he wondered. He dimly remembered reading about a ‘Catalina’ that had discovered an enemy fleet and had then gone in to attack an aircraft carrier with bombs while radioing back, ‘Please inform Next-of-Kin.’ ‘Was that at the Coral Sea? Or was it Midway?’ he thought. It niggled him that he could not remember.

  The idea of trying to attack fast moving and heavily armed warships in such a large and relatively slow aircraft made him shake his head. ‘They must have had guts!’ he thought with admiration.

  Once again he looked down, now pretending to search for enemy submarines rather than battleships. ‘The Cats did a lot of anti-sub work,’ he told himself. And there was a sub! ‘No, it couldn’t be,’ he thought. But it was something large and dark just under the water. Willy leaned forward. Whatever it was, it was almost right under them and almost out of sight. Then he saw a larger than normal splash of white among the many tiny white wave tops. More dark shapes seemed to shimmer under the water and he wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

  ‘No, I can see something,’ he thought. Then it came to him and he gasped with pleasure before calling out, “Whales! Look, whales!”

  Jabbing down with his finger he attracted the attention of the others. Marjorie took the opportunity to lean right on him, pressing herself on his shoulder as she looked. “Where? Oh yes! I see them!” she cried.

  Willy attracted the attention of Flying Officer Turnbull, one of the officers on board, and he looked down and then spoke into his intercom. Willy felt the plane slow and then tilt. He saw the ailerons move and then the big rudder close behind him on his right. The ‘Catalina’ went into a wide circle, slowly losing height. During the turn and descent Willy savoured the sensations of being pressed down against his seat by the centrifugal force and then of relative weightlessness as the nose was put down. ‘This is real flying,’ he thought happily.

  Other cadets crowded into the blisters and at the portholes as they all tried to see the whales. By the time they came around again they
had lost a couple of thousand feet and the whales were clearly visible. To Willy it was a revelation.

  ‘I can even see their tails, their flukes,’ he corrected.

  They circled again, slowly so that all the passengers could see the whales clearly. Then the pilot straightened back on course and the nose tilted up slightly. ‘He’s going to climb back to cruising altitude again,’ Willy deduced, this being confirmed when the engine note took on a deeper roar as power was increased.

  “Time to swap places,” Flying Officer Turnbull called pointing forward and indicating to them to move back into the cabin. Willy did not want to go but knew it was only fair so he nodded and nudged Marjorie. She and Stick began moving forward. Willy got up from his uncomfortable crouching position and prepared to follow. As he did he cast a last glance astern at the whales.

  To his surprise they were no longer visible, were in fact many miles astern. But his eye did pick up an odd shape in the waves below. ‘What is that?’ he wondered. He squinted against the sun’s glare and peered down.

  Flying Officer Turnbull called again and so did his personal rival, Leading Cadet Patricia Finlay. “Come on Williams, you’ve had your go,” she shouted.

  But Willy just shook his head and waved to wait. His eyes had suddenly made sense of the shape in a way that made his heart seem to stop. That tiny, ant-sized thing in the sea was a man! ‘A man,’ he thought. ‘Or are my eyes playing tricks on me?’