CHAPTER THREE– BON VOYAGE
I settled back into the now fully reclined leather seat and snapped into place the eye mask the Tupelov’s cabin crew had provided. Iverson’s secretary had booked us into business class on the supersonic, and I had to admit working for Iverson seemed to have its benefits. I hoped I could filter out Connery’s prodigious snoring from the seat next to mine. Following a haunted night’s sleep, I needed to catch a few hours kip of my own.
As the first tendrils of somnolence clouded my mind, I could hear Iverson’s dulcet tones again in my head, “I know you saved the life of a young Dutch officer in Borneo and that officer became your firm friend.”
Friends eh? No, no, it was more complicated that.
#
Old coastal road, Kalimantan Jungle, Borneo. November 1941
The effect of the dappled light filtering down from the overcast sky through the jungle canopy as we sped along the old logging road reminded me of the battered zoetrope Father Brown used to entertain the orphanage children on a treat night. The intermittent flashes had a hypnotic effect on my brain, and if it hadn’t been for the rough ride of the jeep over the muddy surface, I might have drifted off in the passenger seat beside my driver.
Yesterday’s frantic retreat out of North Borneo now seemed like a crazy nightmare. The drive from Samarinda this morning for myself and Corporal Hartnell had been much quieter so far, our only opponents of note the cloying humidity, the occasional downpour, and the terrible road surface.
“Jesus!” I was stunned out of my reverie as the jeep skidded off the side of the road and into a foliage covered drainage ditch, the nose at least coming to point back out towards the road, “What the deuce Bill?”
“Sorry Sir! Just spotted something up ahead, thought it best to get us out of sight.” My Batman grabbed his Lee Enfield from the back seat.
“Looked like jap scouts Sir. At least two vehicles parked up, Yonkis I think.”
Two Kurogane, could be up to six of the buggers then.
“Think we can sneak past them Bill?”
The corporal shook his head in a firm no.
“Doubt it sir, foliage is too thick to take the jeep around ‘em, and in any case unless they’re all deaf they’d hear us a mile off.”
All of which I knew, however I was still green enough to want a second opinion from a seasoned veteran like Bill.
“OK then, doesn’t sound like they heard us, let’s see if we can catch them on the hop.” I pulled our sole Sten Gun from under my seat and slung the munitions bag I’d grabbed in a hurry from the quartermaster over my shoulder.
“OK Bill let’s go and see what’s what, this drainage ditch ought to give us some cover.” I started up the muddy drain in a low crouching trot, motioning the corporal to follow.
“Oh, lovely and wet eh Sir? Stinks too, full of mosquitos I’ll bet. At least we could get invalided out of the war with Malaria, always a silver lining.” Not the first time I smiled inwardly at Bill’s deadpan humour.
We advanced fifty yards up the ditch with the brackish water slopping over the tops of our boots, before the sound of raised and agitated Japanese voices drifted across the road to us. A further twenty yards brought us around a slight bend in the road and confirmed the accuracy of Bill’s sighting.
Two of the three-man Japanese jeeps were parked up, one on either side of the road. I motioned Bill to check the Yomki nearest to us on our side of the road.
“Empty.” He mouthed as he made his way back to my position.
The noise of an argument, in what I recognised to be Japanese, was coming from a small knot of soldiers just inside the foliage on the opposite verge. Two soldiers were brandishing their rifles towards the inner jungle, whilst a further two soldiers knelt, frantically working away at something on the floor between them.
One of the riflemen was shouting angrily at the jungle, whilst the other three took turns to intermittently bark at the enraged man.
“Awfully nice of them to bunch up like that Sir.” Bill grinned slyly as he whispered by my side.
“Really quite obliging of them indeed.” I whispered back as I reached into the munitions bag and withdrew a couple of Mills Bombs, three red crosses visible across the egg-shaped bodies. The grooved casing reminiscent of a pineapple. I handed one to the corporal.
“You take the furthest Yonki, I’ll deal with our co-operative friends. On the count of three.”
“One.” Bill shuffled off to face his target.
“Two.” I pulled the pin on my grenade and noted that Bill had done the same.
“Three.” The two eggs arced away towards their objectives.
Bill’s grenade bounced in front of the Yonki and rolled under the body, my own dropped just short of the two crouched Japanese. There was just time for one of the soldiers to look up in surprise, locking eyes with mine for the briefest of moments.
A blinding flash from two directions.
The grenade blossomed.
KRUMP!
Sharp agonised cries followed, and then silence. Off to the side the Yonki was engulfed in flames.
“Hat Trick Sir?” Bill gestured at the remaining jeep.
“No, let’s see if we can get it working, might be easier to use that than get the Willy out of the ditch.” I gestured back down the road.
“First better check on our friends.” I unslung the Sten as we advanced cautiously across the track. A scene of carnage became apparent, blood, gore and bodies strewn across the patch of jungle.
Low, bubbling moans emanated from a bloody mess that was previously the enraged soldier. The other three were dead, as was a fourth body, that of an officer.
So that’s what they were working on, poor bugger must have been wounded.
A tumult of emotion swept over me, guilt and empathy at the forefront.
They must have been trying to save him.
I turned the sole survivor around as gently as I could, which elicited howls of agony from the wounded man. It wasn’t good, shrapnel had clearly entered his back and exited violently through his belly.
Bill grimaced and brought his rifle to bear on the man.
“Corporal Hartnell, he’s a wounded man! Clearly no danger to you or I.”
“With respect Sir, I’m not meaning to be vindictive like.” The corporal’s tone was patient, as if explaining to a child, “We can’t take him with us and anyways there’s not a surgeon within a hundred miles who could save him Sir. To leave him in this state in the middle of the jungle is downright cruel. Sir.”
I knew Bill was right, but my instinct was to help the fellow.
Possibly not the best trait for a soldier eh Norton? Didn’t think of that before you threw the grenade eh?
Bill grasped my shoulder with his hand in a gesture of understanding.
“Best if I deal with him Sir, infantryman to infantryman like. Next time it’s an officer I’ll leave that to you.”
Shuddering, I nodded and moved away to inspect the remaining Yonki. From behind me I heard the distinctive double click as Bill worked the bolt on his Lee Enfield.
CRACK!
I knew then that if I survived this mess, some things would never leave me.
“Keys are in the ignition Bill, and what I presume is the fuel gauge looks healthy.” I announced as the corporal re-appeared, “Let’s get the fuel tanks and the rest of our stuff from the jeep.”
A couple of short trips later and the Yonki was loaded and ready to go.
“We’d best mosey Bill, no telling if there’s another unit nearby.”
“Right Sir, and if there’s any Jap fighters in the area the smoke from that might attract them.” The corporal gestured over his shoulder with his thumb to the burning wreck of the second Yonki.
He paused, and a flash of something blinked in the back of those veteran eyes, “Hope you’ve got some white underwear we can tie to the aerial Sir, I don’t fancy getting shot at once we reach the town.”
This time I really couldn’t tell if Bill was serious or not.
“Don’t worry once I see from the map that we’re getting……” Oh Shit the maps!
“Bugger it Bill, I’ve only gone and left the map case under my seat!” I groaned in frustration, “My brain seems to be addled.”
“Don’t worry at it Sir, it’s just the post combat yips, we all get it.” Bill was ever the re-assuring presence.
I started back down the road towards the stranded jeep, and shouted over my shoulder to Bill, “I’ll just get the blasted maps, won’t take a minute, you get that thing fired up.”
The leather container was where I left it under the passenger seat and I swiftly retrieved it before starting my trot back up the road towards the idling Yonki.
Combat Yips? Yeah Bill’s probably right, just the adrenaline burst messing with me. I mean there’s a bloody war on and___
My self-examination was abruptly interrupted as a Japanese officer erupted out of the jungle thirty yards in front of me and came to a halt on the track between myself and the Yonki. A gently curved sword was brandished in his hand.
He lifted the sword in my direction and shouted angrily at me in Japanese.
“OK calm down then, there’s a good fellow.” I managed to stutter in reply before the man launched himself at me in a berserker like rage.
I dropped the map case and swung the Sten gun up, instinctively bracing the firing position by holding the magazine chamber. He reached halfway towards me when I squeezed the trigger.
A mechanical click emanated from the gun, but it didn’t fire. I pulled the trigger again. Same result.
Bapri!
I started to swing the gun upwards in the hope of deflecting the incoming sword stroke. A flash of brown and khaki, topped by a mass of red hair streaked out of the foliage and crashed into the oncoming officer, sending him, sword and all, into the drainage ditch.
My saviour turned towards me, a lanky ginger headed white man stuffed somewhat ungainly into pilot’s leathers that had seen better days, “Quickly let’s get to your ride before that kut remembers he has a gun!”
He sprinted for the Yonki, and after a moment to gather myself and retrieve the map case I followed suit.
The pilot threw himself into the back seat, as I slid unceremoniously into the passenger seat. Bill sent me a questioning glance.
“Later Bill let’s go! Let’s go!” I screamed.
The corporal put the jeep uncertainly into first, and the vehicle lurched forward.
“Just a second Sir, new gearbox and all that.” Bill was as calm as you like.
From behind us an enraged scream, and the snap of pistol fire. A bullet zipped past my left ear and I instinctively ducked.
Bill found second and the jeep started to pull away at speed. I looked over my shoulder to see the officer stood in the road, shaking with impotent rage as we moved out of range of his sidearm.
“Whoa! I am fucking loving this war man!” I turned to look at the pilot who was grinning manically from ear to ear, “I am fucking loving this war.” he repeated. “It’s a good time to be alive, no?”
It was one of those rare occasions where words failed me.
#
Balikpapan, Borneo. November 1941
The flying officer drained his schooner in one long voracious gulp and wiped his lips appreciatively with the back of his hand, he turned back to face me.
“Best damned beer I ever had! Days hacking through the jungle, and the thought of this kept me going.” He chuckled to himself “Ice cold in Balikpapan! Come on, drink up, I told you I have a tab running here.”
I studied the condensation rolling down my glass before replying.
“Well I haven’t built up a two-day thirst like you Fight Lieutenant, so I’m happy to take mine slowly, but thank you all the same.” In truth mid-afternoon was a little early for me to get bladdered.
“Nonsense! Nonsense man! Don’t you know there’s a war on?” The rescued pilot cackled “You have to enjoy yourself when you can, you never know when it might be your last Heineken!”
His raucous laughter dried up suddenly, his eye’s narrowed as he fixed me with a steely gaze.
“Hey! You’re not some sort of Catholic teetotal goody two shoes, are you?”
Caught off guard by the abrupt switch to inquisition, I stumbled to answer “Err…Christian yes. Catholic no. Teetotal, never I hope.”
“Fantastich! No excuse then, I owe you several beers, if you hadn’t picked me up when you did, that Jap patrol would have had me for sure.” The burly Dutchman’s reverie paused as the bartender lined up a second schooner which again was drained in one economical motion.
“More! Another for my friend also!” He slammed the empty down and skidded it across the worn bar to the apparently unflappable server.
Oh Well, when in Rome.
I drained my first.
“I suppose that as no-one knows I’m here just yet, I could put off reporting to the local commander for a while.”
“Old Van den Hoogenband? He’ll be down the road at the Town Hall probably, but if you wait around long, he’ll turn up here later. Save you from getting lost if you stay put eh? Oh, ahh forgive me.” The Dutchman punctuated that last titbit of information with a prodigious belch.
"Probably I should report into him myself, let him know he's a plane down, but a pilot up eh? I could tell him I took out two Zeros on my own before the kuts got me." For an instant the Dutchman appeared to sober, but only for an instant.
"Bah, the thought of drinking is what got me through, so drinking is what I'm going to do!" Another belch finished off that bout of externalised introspection.
I turned on my stool to take in the scene around me, the Dancing Sun Bear was infamous across Borneo, a real den of iniquity by all accounts, or at least it was according to Hartnell.
The bar was a two-storey affair with a large open area downstairs, populated throughout with rough looking square tables. Large electric fans hung throughout, providing some respite from the overwhelming humidity. The bar menu was painted in large murals on the bar walls dotted at seemingly random points between various pictures of a European looking city that I didn’t recognize.
Flt Lt Haan and I however hadn’t made it past the bar stools. I was getting the impression that the Dutchman was a permanent fixture at the bar when he wasn’t in the air.
Another empty schooner connected with the top of the bar.
“Shit! I have to go to the pisser!” At the sudden declaration he thrust himself up from his bar stool. From his expression he appeared offended that the call of nature had interrupted his drinking.
He took a moment to straighten his uniform which was when I realised, he wasn’t as tall as I’d assumed, probably only around five foot nine and therefore shorter than myself. His lanky build and boisterous nature had compensated for his lack of stature whilst we rode in the jeep.
Pushing his unruly ginger mane back, he blinked confusedly as he took a moment to get his bearings.
“Get me another one.” He hollered over his shoulder to the barman as he staggered towards the washroom.
I turned back to the bar to nurse my own schooner.
“Another one for you too sir?” enquired the barman.
I shook my head, “Best not, I need to be at least semi-presentable later.”
I thought for a moment, “You could do me a favour though and leave an extra empty with my beers, I fear the Flying Dutchman expects me to keep pace with him.”
That raised an appreciative chuckle from the barman, he leaned in conspiratorially, “On the quiet though Sir, I’d watch myself around that one. He’s only been here a few weeks and already he’s put quite a few noses out of joint. Literally. When he realised I was Irish, he was all set to rearrange my teeth until he clocked I was actually from the wee North.”
“Bit of a hot-tempered Charlie then?” I asked, partially to hide the fact I wasn’t sure what the Irish fellow was getting at.
“Oh yes Sir, the boss has nearly banned him on a few occasions, but hasn’t yet on account that he spends more here than most.” The barman paused as he fulfilled my request for an extra empty to sit with my actual beers, “If it wasn’t for the war, I think they would have drummed him out of his squadron already.”
A large belch and the Dutchman’s heavy tread announced his imminent return, the barman deciding that discretion was the better part of valour and returned to polishing the countertop.
“Hey not bad for an Imperial, and really not bad for a Bong Imperial.” The flight lieutenant slapped me hard on the back as he returned to his stool, indicating his approval of the empty schooners in front of me.
“Usually it’s only the Brit Imperials and the Dutchies who can keep up with me, oh and that kut The Irishman.”
I gestured at the barman, “Well my Imperial brothers do have a certain reputation.”
“Not that lul you pannenkoek! The owner of this bar, The Irishman!” The Dutchman shook his in dismay.
“Drink some more and maybe we’ll get you up to speed, landing speed at least!”
There was a short pause as we supped on the beers before the flight lieutenant leaned back on his stool with a satisfied grin spreading across his acne scarred features.
“Hey! You should have seen the look on that Jap Bastard’s face! Priceless!”
“Which one? What the hell happened out there?”
“The Commander. Bastards snuck up on me as I was following the road home, mind you worked out OK in the end eh? Would have been another day in the jungle at least on foot.”
“They wanted me to surrender, so I did, and when they had me kneel in front of their Commander, I saw my chance and grabbed his sword. Stuck the pig right through the belly, and that look of shock on his face when I did, now that was priceless! They all just stood there like morons, like they couldn’t believe I’d done it! I ran off back into the jungle before any of the fuckers came to their senses!”
Well that explained why the group was so preoccupied when Hartnell and I arrived on the scene.
“You ran the officer through when you were surrendering? That’s bold. That’s…cold Lieutenant.”
The Dutchman roared with laughter, alcohol now clearly having its way with him.
“Bold and cold! Bold and cold! That’s me alright. That’s me! Barman, get us some Amplang!”
He appeared to sober again slightly before continuing.
“Listen I’m never letting any of those gele bastards take me alive, I’ve heard what they do to their prisoners, I’ll take them out first or die trying.”
Yet another schooner was downed, yet another belch released, and yet another diatribe verbalised.
“That’s my motto in life, get the mierenneukers before they get you!”
The Dutchman grunted as he appeared to remember something.
“Oh, and call me Johnny, none of that Lieutenant or Flight Lieutenant shit.”
“OK, Johnny.” I raised my glass in a toast, “Cheers then, bottoms up!” This time I matched him in downing the drink.
“Ahem!” A polite cough emanated from somewhere behind my left shoulder. Turning as best I could without falling off my stool, an act that somehow had become harder, I noted that Hartnell was the source of the interruption.
“Sorry to interrupt Sir, but I understand the local Commandant is expecting you.” Hartnell was the perfect NCO, understated but firm when required.
“I met his adjutant whilst I arranged billets for us and stowed our gear. I’ll let them know you’ll be ready in half an hour or so shall I Sir?”
Recognising both that was not really a request, and that I was not in a fit state to argue with an experienced NCO, I motioned by acceptance and started to rise as best I could.
“Hey you’re leaving. Oh, come on now Mr Bong we were just starting to have fun!”
“Duty Calls I’m afraid.” I turned to Hartnell and started to speak, “Maybe a coffee would___” I trailed off as I noticed the most beautiful looking girl watching our little group from a few yards away. For the briefest of moments, I was convinced the new arrival was a goddess come to watch over me.
Who knew my guardian angel was a delicate alabaster vision with the most glorious flowing red hair?
My daydream was broken when the vision spoke.
“Johnny! You’re back! You’re safe!”
Johnny turned.
“Ani! What are you doing in here? I told you never to come in here.”
The girl trembled visibly before replying, “You’re my brother, you’ve been missing for days, then I heard you were in the Dancing Bear. I had to come and see if you were alright.”
“It’s the Dancing Sun Bear for Chrissakes, now fuck off back home, I’ll be there to see you soon.”
Tears began to well up visibly in the eyes of the beautiful girl.
“Hey, none of that shit now, you know that doesn’t work on me. Get home now, before I drag you there myself.”
Johnny turned to me.
“And you! Do you think I’m blind or what? I see the way you’re looking at my sister. Listen debt or no debt, you keep your fucking eyes and fucking hands to yourself, do you hear me?”
Hartnell moved towards the Dutchman, but a glance from myself stopped his advance.
“It’s OK Johnny, no harm meant, I think maybe a little too much beer has left me with less manners than usual. We’ll just be on our way.” I nodded politely to the girl, collected myself as best I could and staggered outside with Hartnell in tow.
“Well Sir, that seemed like an interesting introduction to town.”
Hartnell it appeared was now a master of restrained understatement, delivered in way only possible if you were a veteran corporal.
“Indeed corporal, indeed. At least it can’t get any more interesting with a war on, can it?”
#
I was woken by the air stewardess gently shaking my shoulder.
“Sir I’m afraid you’ll have to put your seat in the upright position now, we’re on approach to Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose, and will be landing shortly.”
I nodded my understanding and struggled to reset the seat, whilst I tried to clear the fog from my mind.
Memories eh? I thought I’d burned you away with the booze. The danger of opening old wounds indeed.
I buckled my seat belt, nodded to the equally groggy Connery, and tried to prepare myself for the further torrent of memories that were sure to come from visiting the biggest wound in my soul, Calcutta.