Coasts of Cape York Read online

  “It’s not a very clear photo,” Stephen said. “There was something odd about ‘Airacobras’ wasn’t there?”

  Willy nodded. If there was one subject he knew about it was types of aircraft. “Yes. They had the engine behind the pilot and a long drive shaft went forward to the propeller in the nose.”

  “Ah! Yeah. Now I’ve seen one of these. Where would it have been?” Stephen commented.

  “Beck’s Air Museum in Mareeba,” Willy replied.

  “That’s right!” Stephen said. “It is a funny looking plane with a pointy nose. The one he has is restored but not flyable, right?”

  “I think so,” Willy answered.

  “It belonged to some famous ace who shot down half a dozen Japanese planes didn’t it?”

  Willy shrugged. “Not sure. I think so. He could visualize the tiny Japanese flags painted on the fuselage but wasn’t sure how many.

  Stephen looked thoughtful. “Hmm. We are going up to Mareeba this weekend. I wonder if I can persuade Mum and Dad to visit Beck’s?” he said.

  “Haven’t you army cadets got your end-of-year Passing-out Parade on this weekend?” Willy asked. Then he grinned as he remembered the previous year’s parade.

  “Yes we have, on Saturday afternoon,” Stephen answered. “Are you going to come and watch?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for quids,” Willy replied, grinning broadly.

  Stephen looked at him suspiciously. “You aren’t going to pull a stunt like you did last year are you?”

  Willy shook his head and said, “No.” Then he laughed. During the parade the previous year he had flown a radio controlled model aircraft, a large replica of the Red Baron’s Fokker Triplane, across the parade ground during the inspection by the visiting colonel. Unfortunately something had gone wrong with the controls and the plane had zoomed too low, forcing the VIPs to duck or throw themselves to the ground. Willy had been in real trouble. He said, “Are you going to come and watch our parade?”

  “When is it?” Stephen asked.

  “In a month’s time, on a Friday night. It will be better than yours.”

  Stephen snorted derisively. “Oh piffle! Anyway, I can go to Mareeba on Sunday. I’d like to talk to Mr Beck about some of these old aircraft.”

  “Can I come?” asked Willy, whose interest was aroused.

  “Sure, if you like?” Stephen answered.

  Marjorie, who had been standing patiently listening now said, “What about me?”

  “Sure. We will make a party of it,” Stephen said.

  At that moment the bell went. As Stephen stood up Willy pointed to the magazine. “Can I borrow that magazine Steve?”

  Stephen handed it to him. “Sure. Just give it back to me tomorrow, and don’t read it in class and get it confiscated by some grumpy teacher.”

  That caused Willy to laugh out loud as he had several grumpy teachers. “No, I don’t have Mr Burgomeister or Miss Hackenmeyer after lunch, only Mad Max for Science.”

  It was not until he was at home after school that Willy got a chance to look at the aircraft magazine. He had seen it on the bookstands at newsagents but had never looked at one before. On reading through it he found it a fascinating revelation. The were numerous excellent colour photos of all types of planes, both old and new, plus articles on aircraft wrecks, restored aircraft, air museums, new replicas, historical accounts, air shows and advertisements. There was also a very interesting section devoted to reader’s letters.

  What particularly pleased Willy was that the centrefold was a great colour picture of a ‘Black Cat’ ‘Catalina’. It wasn’t Mr Southall’s but it was still a ‘Cat’ and Willy now had a great fondness for the type. He studied the photo minutely, noting that it also had no hull blisters. ‘Just as well we weren’t flying in that one,’ he thought. ‘I would never have seen Jacob then.’ For a few seconds he recreated the view from the blister in his mind, then shuddered as ghastly images of the mutilated body slid in.

  Next he read several of the articles. Two that he found particularly interesting dealt with the discovery of World War 2 aircraft wrecks. One was a ‘Liberator’ four-engine bomber which had crashed in the New Guinea jungle. The other dealt with the discovery of the wreck of a flying boat named the Corinthian in Darwin Harbour. It had crashed in 1942 but the wreck had not been discovered for another 62 years.

  ‘Amazing!’ he thought as he read the details of what condition the various parts of the wrecks were in. There and then he decided to not only try to buy the same copy of the magazine but to subscribe to it.

  That night he was in a slightly happier frame of mind when he went to bed. Now he was troubled more by the urgent desires of his fit young body. Having nearly made love to Marjorie a dozen times he felt the urge to be with her as often as possible. ‘And I think she feels the same way. I wonder if we will get a chance to be alone tomorrow?’ he mused as he drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 6

  CADETS

  Willy and Marjorie did not get a chance to sneak away on the Wednesday. That left them both feeling frustrated and Willy quite grumpy. He also felt quite guilty for thinking what he wanted to do as he knew that Marjorie was years under age.

  Instead school ground on in its usual course, with the added tension of having end-of-year exams looming. That meant all the teachers were worrying and making the students revise and that irritated Willy even more. He was confident he would pass all the tests and exams easily and did not feel like studying.

  During the breaks he discussed the articles in the aircraft magazine with Stephen. Stephen seemed to have been temporarily deserted by his mates so he was happy enough to talk. “Where are the others?” Willy asked.

  “Pete’s helping Mad Max do some chemistry experiment in the lab. Graham’s off wooing his new girlfriend, and Roger’s helping sort uniforms in the cadet Q Store,” Stephen answered.

  “Are you still going to Beck’s Museum on Sunday?” Willy asked. He had been there several times over the years, most recently in June with the Air Cadets, but now wanted to ask Mr Beck some specific questions.

  Stephen nodded and took off his glasses to polish them. “Yes. Mum said she would drop us off just after lunch and pick us up a couple of hours later. You still want to come?”

  “Yes please.”

  “And what about your snuggle bunny?”

  “Marjorie? If I go she will want to be with me,” Willy replied.

  “What did you want to see?”

  Willy pointed to the aircraft magazine that now lay on the table in front of them. “I’d like to find out about old aircraft wrecks in this area.”

  “So would I,” Stephen replied. “There were lots apparently, and not all of them have ever been found.”

  “That would be great, to discover a missing plane,” Willy said.

  “Worth a try,” Stephen agreed.

  That afternoon as soon as classes finished Willy did not hurry home. Instead he and Stick both waited downstairs. The alleged reason was to talk to the army cadets before they started their weekly ‘Home Training’ parade but for Willy the real reason was to admire Barbara from afar. The school was one of the few in the region that still had an army cadet unit, mainly because Captain Conkey and his officers made the effort to keep it going. The Army Cadets, like the Air Cadets, was a part-time, voluntary organization which got some government help.

  The training did not begin until 3:45 pm so there was half an hour to talk and tease. During that time the cadets changed out of school uniform and into their drab army camouflage uniforms. It also allowed cadets who went to other schools time to travel to the High School. When Willy saw Barbara appear in her uniform he could only shake his head in admiration. ‘She even looks good in that shapeless camouflage stuff,’ he thought.

  The Army Cadets followed a similar routine to the Air Cadets, starting the training session with a company parade. Willy watched this with interest, noting all the little differences in orders and procedures. The platoon s
ergeants lined their platoons up on the grass quadrangle and then the Company Sergeant Major called them ‘on parade’ and right dressed them. Next the platoon sergeants marked their roll books. One of these was Graham and seeing him wearing the three stripes caused Willy a spurt of envy. ‘I want to be a sergeant,’ he thought.

  From his friends he knew the story of how Graham came to be promoted above his friends at their annual camp a few weeks earlier (Read ‘The Cadet Sergeant Major’ by C. R. Cummings) but he still felt it was vaguely unfair. ‘Although Graham looks the part and can certainly do the job,’ he conceded.

  He resented the fact that the army cadets seemed to get promoted much faster than air cadets and he doubted if he would reach sergeant for another two or three years. ‘Graham is only a ‘Second Year’ cadet,’ he thought. So was he but he had just reached Leading Cadet. ‘I hope I get selected for the Corporals Course in January,’ he thought.

  The sergeant gave their reports one by one to the CSM. He then handed the parade over to the OC, Captain Conkey. Captain Conkey fell the Cadet Under-Officers in and then stood the company at ease. After talking administration for a few minutes he reminded the cadets that the selection list for the December Promotion Courses would go up after the Passing-Out Parade that weekend. “This is a test of loyalty. To make the parade look good we need numbers. If you don’t turn up I will move your name to the bottom of the list or off it,” Capt Conkey said.

  Willy could only agree with that sentiment. ‘If they could not be bothered to turn up for an important event like that they aren’t worth promoting,’ he thought. Then he chewed his lip with anxiety. ‘I hope I get selected to attend our Promotion Course in January,’ he told himself. That got him discussing with Stick how the army cadets did all their promotion courses at the same time in the last week of the school year but the air cadets did some courses in January and some in June.

  For a few more minutes Willy stood there admiring Barbara, who even at a hundred paces, really stood out. Then, after the company marched away to do a parade rehearsal down on the oval Willy made his way to the bike racks with Stick. Willy then rode with him to his house. Marjorie was working again so Willy only stayed talking for a few minutes before riding off. He made his way to the newsagent his parents usually visited. There he was lucky enough to find a copy of the aircraft magazine he wanted. He also found a similar one by another company and on an impulse he bought that as well. Then he rode home.

  That night Willy asked about going to Mareeba on Sunday. His mother and father had no objection and also thought it was a good idea. Willy suspected that was because they wanted him busy and not brooding about having seen another dead body but he was grateful for their interest and consideration. They proposed to take him up and then visit Aunty Isabel at the farm.

  “Can we take a couple of others?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  “Stick and his sister?”

  “Young Marjorie? Certainly,” replied his mother, smiling.

  Willy then settled in his room to read the new magazine he had collected. From it he learned the outline stories of two B24 ‘Liberator’ bomber crashes in North Queensland during World War 2. One was the sad story of an aircraft named the Texas Terror, which flew into the side of Mt Straloch on Hinchinbrook Island, in 1943, killing all on board. The other was, to Willy’s way of thinking, even more tragic. It was the story of the B24 ‘Liberator’ which got off course and ran out of fuel, then crash landed near Moonlight Creek in the Gulf Country west of Burketown. Of the ten men aboard only three survived. Four were killed in the crash. Two walked east and met the manager of ‘Escott’ Station, 15km west of Burketown. They had walked about 60km in 12 days. Four others walked west and three died of starvation, drowning and sickness. The lone survivor was found 150km from the wreck 5 months later.

  “Poor buggers!” he muttered. “If only they had known about bush tucker.” That made him uncomfortably aware that he had very little idea of what plants to eat should his plane ever come down under similar circumstances. ‘Anyway, it won’t happen nowadays, not with the EPIRBS and all the other electronic gadgets,’ he told himself.

  Vintage, restored and replica aircraft were the main topic of conversation among Willy and his air cadet friends at school the next day. Stephen joined them, muttering that Peter was busy in the laboratory and Graham had gone off on his wild goose chase trying to woo Carol.

  Stick then said, “How come Kirk was a sergeant yesterday. Wasn’t he only a corporal?”

  Stephen nodded. “Yeah, he was. Capt Conkey promoted him in the field to acting sergeant during camp.”

  Stick frowned. “Did he have to do a course or anything?” he asked.

  Stephen shook his head. “No. Capt Conkey promoted him because he demoted one of the platoon sergeants for misbehaviour.”

  Noddy cut in. “Yeldham, for trying to chat up that Lucy chic,” he said.

  Stephen agreed and they discussed sergeants who had been demoted. The conversation then moved on to Lucy and girls.

  Willy said, “Is it true that Graham has been picked to go on the warrant officers course in December and is to be your CSM next year?”

  Stephen nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”

  “That’s a bit unfair,” Stick said. “You have been in the cadets longer than him.”

  Stephen looked a bit uncomfortable then shrugged. “Graham will do a good job,” he replied. That comment raised him considerably in Willy’s estimation. ‘Stephen is being very loyal to his friend,’ he thought.

  Noddy asked, “How come he is to be a warrant officer? What did he do to get that?”

  “On annual camp he led the only patrol that was able to reach the objective during a field exercise against other cadet units,” Stephen replied.

  Willy had heard the outline of that and said, “That was the raid by ten or twelve patrols against the Bunyip River Rail Bridge wasn’t it?”

  “Yes it was,” Stephen replied.

  “Did you lead a patrol?” Stick asked.

  Stephen nodded. “Yes I did, but we ran into three lots of defenders and never made it.”

  “Still doesn’t seem fair that Kirk should get promoted two ranks just for that,” Noddy grumbled.

  “It wasn’t just for that,” Stephen replied. “He also did a great job leading a very difficult section, and he saved a kid from committing suicide.”

  “That was on the railway bridge at night wasn’t it?” Willy asked.

  “That’s right.”

  Willy frowned and said, “I heard that it was Peter who really saved the kid.”

  “Yeah, Pete was there. They both were,” Stephen replied.

  Willy could see that Stephen was looking uncomfortable defending his friend but respected him for trying. But the promotion still rankled. It obviously annoyed Noddy too because he said, “So Kirk goes from joining cadets in June last year to corporal at the start of this year, then to warrant officer by the end of the year?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” Stephen conceded.

  “Not fair,” Noddy grumbled.

  “Why not?” Stephen challenged.

  Noddy made a face and looked at the others for support. “Because in the Air Cadets you have to do a whole year as a recruit and then another as a leading cadet before you can even go on a corporals course. We won’t go on ours till January next year and we have all been in longer than any of you army cadet types.”

  “Maybe you are all just slow learners,” Stephen retorted.

  This drew an outburst of derisive comments, to which Stephen just laughed. But it was an issue for Willy. Once again he did his sums. ‘I will be a corporal next year, in Year 10. With luck I will make sergeant in Year 11. Then I have to be a flight sergeant and a warrant officer before I can even do my CUOs course. I will be very lucky to make CUO even by the end of Year 12.’

  He said this to Stephen who shrugged. “Don’t pick on me,” he replied. “I don’t make the rules. Anyway, who is coming to Be
ck’s Air Museum next Sunday? I need to telephone to let them know we are coming.”

  Willy said yes and explained that he could take Marjorie and Stick with him. While he was doing this a grumpy looking Graham appeared with Andrew Collins. As they sat down Graham asked, “Where are you all going on Sunday?”

  “Mareeba,” Stephen answered. “To Beck’s Air Museum.”

  “I’m going to Mareeba on Sunday,” Graham said. “To see my Gran.”

  “What time are we all meeting up then?” Stephen asked.

  It was agreed that 2:00pm would be a suitable time. Andrew raised his eyebrows and asked, “What is this all about?”

  “Steve’s got as bee in his bonnet about old aircraft wrecks,” Willy replied.

  They discussed the B24 crashes and Willy provided what little details he knew. Stick then mentioned the ‘Airacobras’ which crash landed all over Cape York in 1942. At that Graham sat up and said, “My Grandfather was involved in that. He was the captain of a small ship taking supplies to the airbases up in the cape and he told me he took several air force work parties to the wrecks to take out the guns, radios and instruments, and engines and so on. There are even some old photos he took somewhere at home.”

  Willy sat up, his interest aroused. “Do you think you could find them?”

  “I suppose so. Grandad has been dead for five years but Gran might still have them,” Graham answered.

  Noddy now said, “I heard there was the wreck of a B25 or something like that in the jungle near Babinda.”

  “See if you can find out more details please,” Stephen asked.

  “I heard that a plane crashed up on Black Mountain back during World War Two,” Stick added.

  They discussed all the plane crashes they had heard about and Willy realized he did not know very much. ‘I will start doing some research,’ he decided.

  Then it was in to class and another long, boring afternoon. It was only enlivened by Callum and Sean, the class clowns, getting into trouble for practical jokes. For Willy it was all just frustrating. He knew the work, didn’t need the revision and itched to either be with Marjorie or be in the library.