Coasts of Cape York (13 page)

Willy saw Andrew pull a face but he had to laugh at the play on the word ‘naval'. Then he grinned again as Roger made a comment about the ‘Belly button cadets in their belly bottom trousers'. “Better than being ‘Space Cadets,” Blake retorted.

“Yeah, space between their ears!” Luke Karaku cried, his black face splitting into a huge grin.

Andrew turned to Willy and said, “Anyway, what are you doing here plotting with these trouble makers?”

Willy looked at Andrew and had a sudden idea. ‘Navy cadets. Sailors,' he thought. ‘They might be useful.' So he outlined the idea, explaining he had to keep the location secret. Then he asked, “Would any of you be interested in joining us as voluntary unpaid labour?”

They were interested. Andrew nodded and said, “I wouldn't mind a trip up the east coast of Cape York Peninsula. I've never been up past Cape Tribulation. But you might have to allow my sister Carmen to come along.”

“That's alright,” Willy replied. “Marjorie will probably be with us so she won't be the only girl.”

The bell for classes ended further discussion but during the morning break and lunch time Willy also sounded out his other friends. He learned that both Marjorie and Stick could go, but only if Marjorie was not the only girl. The possibility of Carmen Collins being with the group made Marjorie whoop with delight, but not because she particularly liked Carmen. “I will be able to be with you,” she cried, jumping forward and putting her arms around Willy's neck and kissing him.

That got Willy all aroused, and also into trouble from Mr Ritter, his Maths teacher, who happened to be passing at that moment. “Stop that you two! It is against the school rules!” he snapped.

It was too, but Willy had enjoyed it and badly wanted more. He went to class wondering how and when he could get Marjorie away somewhere private for some more physical delights.

But it wasn't to be that afternoon or evening. Instead he went, as planned, to the city library and borrowed several books. At home that night he read them, learning a little more each time.

Tuesday and Wednesday were similar, except that one by one the friends reported whether they were allowed to join the expedition or not.  Stephen was. So were Andrew and Carmen. Blake wasn't but Luke said ‘maybe'. Roger confirmed he was not allowed. Because Carmen could go Marjorie was also allowed, but only for the first expedition.

“We have to go on a family holiday to visit relations in Brisbane after Christmas,” Marjorie explained.

That afternoon Willy found many more details on the sinking of the flying boats at Broome in 1942. He found them in the Official History of the RAAF in World War 2. What he read both sadden and amazed him. What particularly annoyed him was reading that a Japanese reconnaissance plane had circled the harbour at 3pm the day before the raid. At that time there had been three flying boats moored in the bay but four more alighted at dusk and 9 others during the night so that by dawn there were 16 flying boats anchored off the town.

‘Surely the people in charge could see the danger?' he thought. Shaking his head he read on. It angered him even more to read that the captains of the planes were warned to take off as soon as possible but that none had done so before the first Japanese fighters attacked at 9:20am.  ‘All over in 15 minutes!' Willy noted. ‘And 24 aircraft destroyed by only 6 enemy fighters!'

Sadly he read about Dutch civilians who had been refused permission to come ashore because they did not have the correct paperwork and who were then shot or drowned in the attacks. Reading the details of people swimming in the sea and of the battle caused Willy a severe flashback to the rescue of Jacob and of the mangled body. For a few minutes he had to stop reading while he trembled, sweated and gasped for air.

After recovering sufficiently Willy read on, noting with interest that the 16 flying boats had comprised 2 Empire flying boats, 3 Dutch Dorniers, 2 British and 2 American Catalinas and 7 other flying boats. ‘Seven others? I wonder what types they were and what they were doing there?' he thought.

Having read the account Willy was left feeling sad and angered. ‘We did not have our act together very well,' he decided. But it also made him more interested in finding out all he could about flying boats and about World War 2 aircraft wrecks. What he read in a local history book that night gave him ideas.

Friday came around with Willy even more determined to find a plane wreck. During the lunch break he said to the assembled group, “We might even be able to find our own local plane wreck.”

“Oh yeah?” Stephen commented. “Where?”

“In the Graham Range behind Castor,” Willy replied.

Graham at once sat up. “Behind Castor? What type of plane? What happened?”

Willy knew exactly why Graham was suddenly interested but that just seemed like extra good bait to get him to join in. He explained, “I read about it last night in a local history story. It happened back in 1942. Apparently an American B25, a ‘Mitchell' bomber, got lost during bad weather at night while returning from a raid on the Pacific Islands. Some local farmers said they saw a big explosion right up near the top of the mountain just before ten O'clock that night. But they never found any wreck. The Americans admitted they lost three planes out of a flight of five, so it could have been a plane crash.”

“But if it was seen to crash why didn't the Americans send a search party?” Stick asked.

Willy shrugged. It was Peter who answered, “Probably short of men and with too many more pressing concerns with a war going on.”

“We could look,” Graham suggested.

Willy was pleased at that. He liked the idea of finding his own plane wreck. “When?” he asked.

“Next weekend?” Graham answered.

Willy shook his head. “Sorry, no chance. We are going back up to see Mr Beck on Sunday and we have exams starting on Monday.”

Graham nodded and looked disappointed. Andrew added, “And we have our annual parade on Saturday afternoon. I was hoping you blokes might come and watch.”

“We will,” Willy replied. “It will cheer us up to see that we are much better.”

“Better! Oh, piffle!” Andrew snorted. He then muttered about ‘blue orchids' and ‘show ponies'.

“So when can we go looking for this B25?” Stephen asked.

They discussed the calendar of events for the next few weeks. With the Navy Cadet's parade on this Saturday and the Air Force Cadet's parade on the Friday night a week later, and with two weeks of exams at school they agreed that the earliest they could plan on was the weekend after the exams finished.

“Ask your parents so we can do some planning,” Willy requested.

This was agreed to and Willy went home that afternoon feeling very hopeful. That evening he again went to Air Cadets for the usual Friday night parade. As he entered the squadron hut he saw that there were at least twenty others already there. Most were cadets but standing with the officers was a middle-aged civilian, a thin man with short grey hair, and a trim grey moustache. He wore glasses and his neat clothes and polished shoes suggested he was well off.

As all the other cadets were bending over some sort of display on a table Willy made his way over to the adults, saluting the CO, Flight Lieutenant Comstock, as he arrived.

“Good evening sir,” Willy said.

“Ah! Leading Cadet Williams, How are you?” Flt Lt Comstock replied, returning the salute. He then half turned to the civilian and said, “This is the cadet who spotted the men in the water the other day during the ‘Catalina' flight.”

The civilian nodded and said, “Oh yes, I read about that.” He turned to Willy and smiled, then put out his hand. “Mr Jemmerling, Francis Jemmerling.”

Willy took the offered hand and shook it. “Willy Williams sir. Nice to meet you.”

Flt Lt Comstock then said, “Mr Jemmerling is a collector and has brought along a display to show us. We are also going to have a quick look through his aeroplane.”

“Collector sir?” Willy replied, puzzled and wanting to get away to talk to his friends.

“Of aircraft,” Mr Jemmerling replied. “You've heard of the Jemmerling Collection?”

Willy did not know what to say. He did not want to lie but equally he did not want to offend a guest by suggesting that he was quite unknown to him. ‘By the way he said that he thinks he is a big noise,' he thought. So he said, “Aircraft sir? That sounds like an expensive hobby.”

Mr Jemmerling gave him a thin smile and his watery blue eyes seemed to go frosty. Then he remarked dryly, “Hardly a hobby, at two million dollars a year. But I manage.”

That made Willy blush for sounding so ignorant. Feeling somewhat flustered he asked, “Do you own many aircraft sir?”

Mr Jemmerling nodded. “Yes actually. I have ten aircraft in my collection, plus two on the civil register. I have a ‘Beaufort' bomber, almost completely restored and which should be ready to fly by next February. There is a non-flying ‘Spitfire 111' and I am negotiating to purchase a flying ‘Spitfire 1V'. I have a B25 ‘Mitchell' bomber that flies and a ‘Tiger Moth', plus a ‘Wirraway' trainer that is unfortunately not airworthy at the moment. As well I have Dragon ‘Rapide'. That's a twin engine bi-plane.”

Willy nodded. “Yes sir, I know.”

“And I have several parts that I am trying to build up into complete aircraft. I have the front half of a B17 ‘Flying Fortress' with two engines and one wing. There is a P51 ‘Mustang' fighter minus an engine and propeller boss; the back half of a ‘Hudson' bomber and various other bits and pieces. I also have a ‘Cessna 180' and a De Havilland Otter that I use for both business and pleasure, but they are modern planes and I don't consider them as part of the collection. My favourite is my P.B.Y. ‘Catalina'.”

“That sounds like a really impressive collection sir,” said Willy as politely as he could. His interest was sparked by the mention of the ‘Catalina'. “We had flight in a ‘Catalina'.” He saw out of the corner of his eye both Stick and Marjorie come in the door and wanted to get away.

But Mr Jemmerling wasn't finished. “What I am really looking for are parts to complete a ‘Kittyhawk' and a ‘Beaufighter'.”

Willy started in surprise. “A ‘Kittyhawk'! Why, I just read that there are several wrecked ones lying on the beach up along the coast of Cape York. They crashed there back in 1942,” he said, then remembered he shouldn't and felt a surge of guilt.

Mr Jemmerling nodded and said, “Yes, I know. That is one reason why I am in North Queensland.”

Flt Lt Comstock now added, “Mr Jemmerling's collection is at Bogga Bogga in western New South Wales.”

Mr Jemmerling nodded and then said to Willy, “So, it was your keen eye that saved that unfortunate young man from the sea the other day. I read about it in the paper. Very well done! Now, please tell me, how did it come about?”

Willy wanted to leave but felt compelled by good manners to stay and explain the rescue. He did this, being prodded to provide details such as wind speed and direction, the names of the reefs, and so on. When he named Mr Southall Mr Jemmerling nodded and said, “Yes, I've known Ivan for years. He did a magnificent restoration job on that ‘Catalina' of his.”

‘He sounds just a tinge jealous,' Willy thought. “Is your ‘Catalina' like his Sir?” he asked.

Mr Jemmerling smiled again and nodded. “It is a PBY 5 A, an earlier version than the one you flew in. Unlike Mr Southall's splendid machine it does not have hull blisters.”

“Is yours a restored aircraft sir?”

“Yes. It was once a Royal Air Force machine and was then taken over by the French for Air-sea rescue work. Then it sat in a hangar for fifty years. I have only just had it completely restored and flown it back to Australia,” Mr Jemmerling answered.

Willy nodded, wondering just how rich Mr Jemmerling was. He said, “I like the way Mr Southall's plane has been repainted in the ‘Black Cat' wartime colours.”

“Yes, so do I. In fact, my machine is also painted black, although she was never an RAAF or US Navy Black Cat. She's parked out on the apron right now and you can have a look at her later. Now, I am very interested in the rescue flight. Please tell me the details,” Mr Jemmerling explained.

Willy described the visibility and weather, the whales, the speed and altitude changes and then the return and search and the landing. Then he began to get a bit upset as the horrible memories of the torn entrails and mangled body filled his mind.

“Sorry sir. It was pretty gruesome. I don't like to think about it,” Willy admitted.

“Quite understandable,” Mr Jemmerling said. “So you pulled this young fellow out of the water. What was his name again?”

“Jacob sir, Jacob van der Heyden.”

“Van der Heyden? That sounds foreign, Dutch or something.”

“Yes sir, Dutch. His grandfather was a Dutch naval officer during World War Two,” Willy explained.

“Navy officer eh? Would you know what ship he was on?” Mr Jemmerling queried.

“Not a ship sir. He was a navigator for navy flying boats. Mr Southall said he knew him, that he flew with him out of Sydney back in the 1960s,” Willy explained. He had to think hard to remember the details of the conversations.

“Fascinating,” Mr Jemmerling replied. He looked thoughtful, then said, “This Jacob van der Heyden, he was searching for something wasn't he?”

“Yes sir.”

“Do you know what?”

Willy shook his head and felt uncomfortable. “No sir.”

To Willy's relief Flt Lt Comstock now interrupted, pointing out that the cadets needed to be forming up for the admin parade to start the training. As he moved to join the cadets Willy saw the new recruit, Vicki, standing with several other young people in civilian clothes over at the side of the small bitumen parade ground.