The Forgotten Pearl (17 page)

‘Yes, Miss Royston,' agreed Poppy. ‘I've been doing many of those things in Darwin.'

Miss Royston handed a typed list to Cecilia. ‘The girls need to wear an identity bracelet and have a survival kit in a calico shoulder bag with them at all times,' she continued. ‘The kit should contain basic first-aid equipment: a whistle, a tourniquet, earplugs, gas mask, malted milk tablets and a rubber bit to place between your teeth in case of explosions. There is also a comprehensive uniform list that you will be able to buy at David Jones department store in the city.'

Poppy's gaze drifted around the room as Miss Royston listed the details of all the things she would need to start school. Her gaze fixed on the ginger tabby cat curled up on the window seat. He stretched and yawned, revealing a pink tongue and needle-sharp teeth. The cat reminded Poppy of Coco back in Darwin.

‘His name is Winston Churchill,' Miss Royston said with a smile. ‘Winston is a great comfort to me.'

Miss Royston rose, her back ramrod straight. ‘I hope you will be very happy here at Woodfield, Poppy. I'm sure
you will make many friends – and make the most of the opportunities we have to offer.

‘I regularly remind all my girls that we are going through tough times and none of us knows what the future will hold. It is important to remember that it is not what you get out of life that counts, but what you put into it.'

Poppy nodded as she rose to her feet, unconsciously standing tall like the headmistress.

Cecilia and Poppy shook hands once more and followed Miss Royston back to reception. Here, Poppy was shown into an empty classroom where she had to complete a number of examinations to test her proficiency in English, mathematics and general knowledge.

To her great relief, she learnt that she had performed reasonably well, despite her unorthodox schooling to date.

Afterwards, Cecilia and Poppy caught a train into the city and walked to David Jones, where she was fitted for her summer school uniform – a white, short-sleeved poplin shirt, a box-pleated tunic with a belt, stockings, black buckle-up shoes, a straw Panama hat, navy serge blazer, gloves and sports tunic.

Laden down with boxes and bags, Cecilia led them to the cafe for coffee and a celebratory chocolate milkshake.

‘Woodfield seems like a lovely school, Poppy,' Cecilia commented, sipping her coffee. ‘Miss Royston is a truly inspiring woman. I hope it will be a wonderful opportunity for you, darling.'

Poppy felt a twinge of excitement mixed with nerves. ‘I hope so, too.'

17

Telegram

March 10, 1942

Perth

My dear Cecilia and Poppy,

I hope this letter finds you well. It seems like such a long time ago, Poppy, that you and I were standing in the sunshine outside the hospital – a moment of peace before the nightmare of the bombing began. Despite the horror of that day, I feel honoured to have been part of that wonderful Darwin Hospital nursing team. Pat Davis wrote and told me that you had finally managed to escape Darwin and should now be in Sydney. I'm now in Perth, working at the hospital here. Our trip from Darwin on the Manunda was slow and nerve-racking, as we expected to be attacked by Japanese planes
or subs at any time. The ship was quite badly damaged during the Darwin bombing but managed to sail us safely to Fremantle.

Sadly, another twenty of our patients died on the journey south and were buried at sea. Still, we were able to save a great many. I feel it was a stroke of extreme good fortune that a fully equipped hospital ship was in harbour when the Japs attacked – many more would have died if we'd tried to evacuate the worst cases by road.

We had no sooner arrived in Perth and transferred all our patients to hospitals here when we were inundated with more patients from the Japanese attack on Broome. I'm not sure if the newspapers are reporting on it in the eastern states, but it's a terrible story. On 3 March the Japanese attacked Broome, which was being used as a staging post to evacuate thousands of refugees from the Dutch East Indies by flying boat.

According to one of the Dutch pilots I nursed, he thought the Japanese were trying to destroy the airfield to close the escape route. The flying boats, crowded with refugees, mostly Dutch women and children, were moored in Roebuck Bay for refuelling. The Japanese attacked at about nine o'clock in the morning. They destroyed fifteen flying boats and over twenty aircraft, including shooting down an American plane loaded with wounded servicemen.

The survivors said it was terrible – the water was aflame with burning fuel. Many of the Dutch refugees couldn't swim. More than one hundred people, mostly women and children, are said to have died – some taken by shark, while others were incinerated or drowned. It's so sad because if the Japs had attacked just an hour later, the flying boats would have already flown south and the refugees would have
been safe.

There were stories of great bravery: a young Aboriginal man, Charlie D'Antoine, saved a woman and child by swimming through the burning oil with both of them on his back, while an Australian pilot relayed many of the refugees to Port Hedland in his damaged ten-seater plane.

One of the most intriguing parts of the story, though, is that one of the planes was rumoured to be carrying a package of diamonds worth hundreds of thousands of pounds!!! The diamonds disappeared when the plane went down. Wouldn't it be nice to find that little package washed up on the beach?

Anyway, hope you are both well and recovering from your ordeal.

Best wishes

Minnie Scott

March 23, 1942

Adelaide River

My Dearests,

I was overjoyed to hear that you made it safely to Sydney, and that at least the girls in our family are reunited. I miss you all so much.

After the bombing, we evacuated all the remaining patients south to Adelaide River, where we have established a new hospital to deal with the wounded coming in from the Pacific. The hospital is really just a collection of tents and huts in a sea of mud. You should see our operating theatre
here – primitive, to say the least.

All the nurses have dyed their white uniforms a muddy khaki. It seems completely odd to have a hospital where all the medical staff are mud-coloured!

Not long now until the dry season, which will be much easier for everyone, especially the nurses. It is so frustrating to think of our beautiful new hospital abandoned after just a few days, but we did manage to salvage some equipment and supplies from Darwin before we left.

It is just as well we moved, for the Japanese have bombed Darwin on multiple occasions since you left. One raid caused significant damage to the hospital again, which strengthens my belief that it must have been a deliberate target. On some days there have been several air-raid alerts and numerous reports of reconnaissance planes. The town of Katherine was also bombed yesterday, but not as severely as Darwin – thank goodness.

There has been a steady stream of injured soldiers coming in from various areas of the Pacific. Many are also suffering from tropical diseases such as malaria, dysentery and beri-beri, and unfortunately these are more difficult to treat than they should be. Because of the Japanese occupation of the Dutch East Indies, we are having trouble obtaining drugs such as quinine.

Did you hear that the Aborigines on Melville Island captured a Japanese pilot? His plane was shot down and he was discovered by a group of Aboriginal women. One of their young men captured him by sneaking up from behind and pressing a tomahawk into his back, pretending it was a gun. The Aborigines quickly disarmed the pilot and turned him over to the mission on Bathurst Island. This was the
first Japanese prisoner-of-war, taken on Australian soil.

Poppy, you will be pleased to know that before I left Darwin I went home and found Coco looking hungry, bedraggled and very sorry for herself. I've brought her with me to Adelaide River, where she has been adopted by the nurses. They are spoiling her rotten. She sends you a huge miaow and a cuddle.

Good luck starting at school, Poppy. My love to you all with many hugs and kisses.

Your loving father and husband,

Mark

March 28, 1942

Addison Road, Manly

Dear Edward,

We have no way of knowing whether you are dead or alive, but Mama insists her heart tells her you must still be alive. I don't know if you will ever even get this letter, but it makes me feel better to write to you anyway.

Mama, Bryony and I are now in Sydney. Mama and I left Darwin the day after the Japanese attacked it the first time. We are staying with our friends, the Tibbets, renting a couple of rooms at their house in Manly. We had planned to get our own place but housing is very short here. So many people have moved to Sydney to get
work at the munitions factories, and with petrol rationing everyone wants to live close to public transport.

Manly is lovely. On weekends we swim at the beach, although it is starting to get cooler now. It is sometimes quite alarming because the army uses the beach to practise manoeuvres, so they are forever firing mortar bombs out to sea or simulating battles on the beach. We can hear the thunder of the guns right up on Eastern Hill. It makes Mama and me feel quite nervous, as though we were back in Darwin during the air raids. The first time it happened, I moved so fast and was huddled under the kitchen table, quivering, waiting for the house to start falling down. Boy, did Maude give me a ribbing – she said it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen.

Last week, we helped Mrs Tibbets dig up her rose garden and plant a ‘victory garden' of vegetables. I thought Mrs Tibbets might cry when we dug up all her beautiful rose bushes. We sowed broccoli, cabbage, carrots, silverbeet, cauliflower, leek, beetroot and lettuce. The garden looks very pretty, all in neat rows and mulched with straw. Mum is going to try to find some chickens for the back garden as well, to give us eggs. Next spring we will plant potatoes because they have been quite scarce. I'd love some of Mum's crispy baked potatoes with roast beef and gravy. Instead, it's liver and onions for dinner again – yick!

I started school two weeks ago at Woodfield at North Sydney, which is where Maude goes to school, so at least I know someone. The first week has been a bit of a blur trying to work out all the new faces, names and teachers, but it is gradually falling into place. Everyone seems
really friendly, which is a relief. I thought they might be snooty. There are even a couple of girls boarding who were evacuated from Singapore earlier this year, so they know what it's like to be a long way from home and finding your new life strange. I like to ask them questions about Singapore so that I can imagine you there. Their father was captured by the Japanese, so he's a prisoner-of-war also. I wonder if you know him? His name is Aubrey Jones.

Once I am settled at school and Mum has recovered from her injuries, she plans to apply to work at one of the local hospitals. Dad says she mustn't do any heavy lifting for at least another few weeks.

We no sooner arrived in Sydney than Phoebe was transferred to Townsville to work at a new Army hospital that has been built there. Mum is worried that Phoebe will be too far north in the event of another Japanese attack. There are rumours that the Government has plans to abandon the far north if the Japanese invade, and focus on defending the industrial areas around Sydney, Newcastle and Wollongong. Phoebe, however, is quite excited at the thought of travelling somewhere new and being close to the action.

You wouldn't recognise Bryony – she's training with the Australian Women's Army Service as a signals operator. She wears a uniform and tie, with a little peaked hat. We only get to see her on her rare days off, but she's having fun. A lot of her work is hush-hush, apparently, so she doesn't talk about it much. I'm sure she's just doing deadly boring officework.

There's been a terrible fuss in Sydney because the
American Government has sent black soldiers to Australia, contrary to the White Australia Policy. Australian customs refused to let them land. It's ridiculous – these men have come to fight to save us, putting their lives on the line, and some silly old politicians want to send them home!

Anyway, Honey sends you a big lick and a woof. Hope they are treating you well. We miss you so much and think of you every day. We are all praying that this war will end soon and you can come home to us.

Your loving sister,

Poppy

RECEIVED TELEGRAM – MARCH 26, 1942

PRIVATE TREHEARNE MISSING.

I REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT PTE EDWARD MARK TREHEARNE HAS BEEN REPORTED MISSING. THE MINISTER FOR THE ARMY AND THE MILITARY BOARD EXTEND SINCERE SYMPATHY.

MINISTER FOR THE ARMY

April 8, 1942

Townsville

Dear Mum, Bryony and Poppy

Sorry I haven't written for so long, but the days just seem to whirl by.

I have arrived safely in Townsville, which is more like a massive tent city with thousands of American and Australian troops. In many ways, it is like Darwin – hot, muggy and tropical. It is the tail end of the wet season so there's still red mud everywhere, almost up to my knees. We wear khaki overalls and wellington boots most of the time – my Matron in Sydney would be horrified!

Our accommodation is in tents in a big paddock. Privacy is almost non-existent, but they promise us that they will build huts soon.

The hospital is likewise cobbled together from tents, hastily erected huts and requisitioned buildings. The locals are in shock at having their tiny, sleepy town turned into a military camp. The food is dreary – cold baked beans, cold diced pork, bully beef, sliced fruit – but we can't really complain. It must be much worse for the boys overseas.

We have to take quinine every day and sleep under mosquito nets to avoid malaria. This is the greatest health problem up here, along with dengue fever and dysentery, although of course we are getting evacuated soldiers with battle wounds and injured airmen. There are also so many automobile crashes at night-time from people trying to drive without lights.

I have made some lovely friends up here and we are all very protective of ‘our boys'. We work very long days but most of us are happy that we can do something useful. We feel like we are making a real difference. It's good we're so busy – it means there's no time to think much about the war and how it's all going.

I have been asked out by a few of the American GIs – there are dances every night, concerts and films, but most of the nurses are just too exhausted to kick up their heels. The Americans are very generous, buying us chocolates and stockings as presents. The stockings are especially welcome. I'm not sure if they are doing this in Sydney, but up here some of the girls have taken to painting their bare legs to look like they are wearing stockings, even down to drawing a dark seam down the back of their calves!

The Americans make us laugh. They just
love
ice-cream – I'm sure they'd eat it every day for breakfast given half a chance! They are much better paid than the poor Aussies, and they definitely get superior food. It's no wonder this causes some resentment, but I have to say I am incredibly grateful that the Americans are here to help defend us. Without them, I hate to think what would happen.