Uncommon Enemy (25 page)

The sound of low flying aircraft woke him with a start. For a moment he was disorientated and then he remembered.

He tried to call out but his mouth was dry and he could only manage a croak. The door of the hut swung open and Carol was by his side.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not sure yet. What are those planes?”

“If I remember my aircraft identification lessons I would say they’re the German reconnaissance Feisler Storchs.”

“Very likely. Slow flying with plenty of viewing area. Apparently a great favourite with Field Marshall Erwin Rommel. Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“I would think they’re seeking out anyone who could have taken part in last night’s raid. I suppose that means us, but I doubt if we’ll be spotted. We’re too deep in the bush.” She stood up. “Feel like anything to drink? There’s plenty of water and even some tea although it may be a bit cold.”

“Tea? How did you manage that?”

“We lit a fire last night and boiled the kettle and the billy. We decided to risk it as it was dark and windy which minimized the risk of the smoke being seen or smelt. It meant we were able to clean your wound with hot water and also brew some tea from the ration pack.”

“How could you see?”

“Old kerosene lamp in the corner. Not much kero in it but it was enough to do the job.”

“I felt some pain earlier on. I think someone was dressing my wound.” He smiled weakly. “Must have been my lovely nurse.” He looked her up and down. “Know something?”

“What?”

“Here you stand in loosely fitting army fatigues, your face is smudged and your lovely dark hair wrapped up in a khaki bandana. Yet you still look incredibly sexy to me.”

She smiled and patted the back of her head in a gesture of mock coyness. “Why, sir, I’m here purely in a nursing capacity.” He reached out for her but she knocked his hand aside. “Listen, mister, keep in mind that you’re not well. When I changed your
bandage you moaned quite a bit. Fortunately the wound looks pretty clean and the bleeding’s stopped.” She glared at him with mock severity. “Nurse’s verdict is that with plenty of rest, you’ll be well on the road to recovery.”

“What about our mate?”

“He’s outside, well concealed, keeping watch. Tried to tell me about himself but I stopped him. Explained why and he understood. He was certainly in the right place at the right time last night. I told him so and thanked him profusely on your behalf.”

“Well done. Now what was it you said about some tea?”

After consuming two cups of lukewarm tea and eating a block of chocolate that they had brought with them in their small ration packs, Stuart began to feel a little better. Smiling his thanks he closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

He awoke to the sound of low voices. Carol and the man were sitting at the table. He coughed and tried to sit up.

“Take it easy, mate,” said the man.

“You’ve been asleep for hours,” said Carol coming over and putting her palm on his brow. You’re still a bit hot but a long sleep is just what you needed.”

“Yeah. I feel a bit better, but I’m bloody hungry.”

“That’s what we’re discussing. We feel safe here and there’s water nearby, but we’ve run out of food.”

“If we stay here, they won’t find us, but we’ll probably starve to death,” said the man with a grim smile.

“So we think we’ve really got no choice but to try to find the farmhouse. Geoff thinks he knows which one it is-----.”

“‘Geoff ’?” interrupted Stuart.

“Not my real name. But we couldn’t keep calling each other ‘you’.”

“Fair enough. Do you think you can find the farmhouse?”

“More to the point, do you think you’re up to walking?”

Stuart levered himself off the bench and putting his left leg on the floor gently transferred some of his weight to the right one.

“So far, so good,” he said. “But can I walk?”

“Try this,” said Geoff. “I think it will fit.”

He handed Stuart a slightly crooked but sturdy T-shaped ti-tree branch the top piece of which was roughly padded.

“All my own work,” he smiled.

Stuart tucked it under his right armpit and took a few steps. He stopped and closing one eye scowled at the watching pair.

“Aaah, me hearties, I be Long John Silver. Now which of ye thieving swabs has stolen me pet parrot?”

They both laughed. “How far do you think you can go, Long John?”

Stuart tried a few steps up and down the cabin’s wooden floor. “So far so good. Can I try outside?”

“Hang on, I’ll check if the coast is clear.”

Geoff opened the door, carefully looked out and then walked around the outside of the hut. He put his head back in the doorway. “Looks OK. Come on, I’ll help you down and you can go for a test drive.”

Gingerly Stuart negotiated the two steps and then began a careful circumnavigation of the hut, watched anxiously by his two companions. After several minutes he stopped and grinned. “Not too bad. If I keep the weight off the injured limb, and rest every so often I think my biggest problem will be a sore armpit. You too have done wonders with your bush carpentry and front line nursing.”

“That’s great.” Carol’s encouraging smile failed to mask her anxiety as the drone of an aircraft sounded in the distance. “We really can’t stay here much longer. It would be better for all of us if we tried to make it to the farm. It may take a while but Geoff knows the area and if we’re able to identify a few landmarks we should be able to make it before it gets dark.”

“You’re right, my sweet. I’m bloody hungry and I’m sure both of you are as well. We should leave now. If we’re careful and keep inside the bush during the daytime we should be reasonably safe.”

Gathering their possessions and removing any signs of their short stay they checked the sun’s position and headed in a westerly direction along a small overgrown bush path with Carol and Geoff carrying the two Sten guns.

Progress was slow, partly from the need for caution and partly because, in spite of his earlier optimism, Stuart’s leg continued to trouble him. Seeing him in pain, Carol kept close by, watching anxiously. They had been travelling for about thirty minutes when, half way up a slight incline his crutch slipped on a root and unable to maintain his balance he went sprawling.

“You OK?” asked Carol crouching quickly down beside him and clutching his arm.

“No, I’m not bloody OK!” He shook his arm free and his voice began to rise. “I’ve been shot in the leg! I’m trying to walk with a crutch made out of sticks on a small slippery bush path! And I have only the vaguest notion of where the hell I’m supposed to be going! No, I’m not bloody OK!”

“Keep your voice down, mate,” hissed Geoff.

Carol reached out to touch his arm but he again pulled away.

“Leave me. Can we rest for a bit?”

Without waiting for an answer he lowered himself by the side of the track and with a sigh stretched out on his back.

Carol and Geoff looked at each other in embarrassed silence. Finally Geoff shrugged his shoulders and said, “Look I’ll go ahead a little to check our bearings and to, er, see if the coast is clear.”

Carol nodded and Geoff moved off quickly down the track. The two of them sat in silence more aware of the tension between
them than the sounds from the bush. Uncertain as to what to do Carol kept glancing at her lover’s prone form, taking care to look quickly away whenever he appeared about to turn his head towards her. They had had arguments before on minor issues but he’d never shouted at her like this. She had fallen deeply in love with him and had marvelled at how well the two of them had coped with the rapid changes in their situation. In some ways the danger, uncertainty and fear had brought them closer together but on the other hand there were times when she yearned for the stability and comfort of a permanent home and a predictable routine. Above all else was the strain of uncertainty, of being unable to make even the most rudimentary plans for the future.

Yes, there was an element of excitement in her new existence with Fightback – the underground hideout, the skills of combat, the camaraderie and the terrifying success of the raid on the Albany Library. Every day her thoughts turned frequently to her brother Ian and each time her determination to avenge his death was renewed. The Albany raid had been the first opportunity to really hit back at the occupying forces and she longed to tell her parents what she’d accomplished - that their daughter had been part of a raiding party that had killed the soldiers of the army that had killed their son, her brother.

Of one thing she was sure. For the first time in her life she felt like her own person. She had quickly recognized the difference between the discipline of the partisan group and the strict adherence to social mores that had previously been an integral part of her life. She smiled to herself. It may all end in a hideous mess but at least she had been given the taste of an existence as far removed from conformist middle class society as she could ever have imagined. With dizzying rapidity she’d gone from the Northern Club secretarial staff to a wanted terrorist on the run from the German occupiers and an enraged ex-lover.

A deep sigh interrupted her reverie. She recognized it immediately as a Stuart attention seeker and leant over to him.

“How are feeling, now?”

He looked up at her. “OK. The chance for a rest has done me good.”

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. She didn’t pull it away but let it remain limp inside his.

“Look, Carol, I’m sorry I blew my top. I was tired, my bloody leg was starting to throb and I began to feel dizzy – probably from the pain or the hunger, or both. So, I----.”

She put her two fingers to his lips. “It’s alright. I understand. I was worried about you and instead of just quietly watching out for you I adopted the role of the mother hen.”

“Yeah, that’s part of it. I was also angry with myself for being a burden. No, don’t interrupt; what I mean is that you’ve looked to me for leadership and guidance since we began and now, because of my bloody leg, I feel I’ve let you down.”

“You haven’t. They told us in the woolshed that we’re at war and inevitably this brings casualties. Unfortunately you’re one of them. You told me that we have to look after each other. Well, now it’s my turn.”

She leaned down and slowly kissed him on the lips. His hands slid through her hair and she felt his body respond with an upward movement. He groaned as she pulled back and looked down at him.

“A moan of lust or a groan of pain?” she murmured.

“The former. Even when I’m sorely wounded you excite the hell out of me.”

A rustle of branches and a snapping twig instantly alerted them. The figure on the track was Geoff who stood grinning at them.

“I see that my discreet withdrawal did the trick.”

“If you’d withdrawn a little longer, who knows what might have happened,” chuckled Stuart. “Look, mate, sorry about my outburst earlier on.”

“That’s OK.” He smiled. “Difficult times for all of us. Now, I checked ahead and there’s a break in the bush line with large paddocks with some buildings in the distance. I couldn’t see much detail, but I think you should take a look to see if it’s your farm.”

Stuart was already on his feet, leaning on his crutch and smiling. “Sounds good to me. How far is it?”

“If we take it easy, about ten minutes.”

Stuart grinned at both of them. “So why are we standing round yakking? Let’s start moving.”

Geoff ’s estimation was accurate and ten minutes later they neared the edge of the bush line.

“You two wait here” He handed his Sten to Stuart. “Cover me. I’ll take a quick dekko then if it’s OK you can come forward.”

Stuart carefully balanced himself with the Sten. They watched as Geoff moved forward to the edge of the bush, paused and looked carefully out through the tree branches at the paddocks in front. Turning his back, he gave them the thumbs up and stepped out into the open.

The shot and the echo sounded a split second after Geoff ’s head disintegrated into a bright scarlet pulp spray. For a moment the pair stood rigid.

“Jesus, they’re out there!” whispered Stuart.

“Come on!” Carol’s voice was desperate. “Give me your Sten. We can’t stay here.”

As fast as they could they moved off the track into the interior of the bush. Behind them they could hear the sounds of men’s shouts mingling with the revving of engines.

“There’s quite a few of them and they’re well equipped,” muttered Stuart.

The noise behind them was increasing with every passing moment. Carol, a few steps ahead, paused and pointed.

“Down here!” she said.

Without asking why he followed her awkwardly down a slight slope to an area where the bush was particularly thick. She peered forward, pushing the branches aside.

“Look,” she said, indicating a large cluster of moss-covered boulders. “There’s some sort of small cave in there. We’ll never outdistance them. Quick. You go in first and I’ll try to cover the entrance.”

Stuart hobbled forward and pushing aside a tangle of overhanging fern fronds and branches found himself in the dank interior of what appeared to be a small cave. The darkness and the slippery floor nearly caused him to fall but, having steadied himself, he felt round for a place to sit. Carol had pulled the branches back into place and groped her way towards him.

“Hope it’ll work,” she muttered.

“Shhh,” he cautioned. “We need to listen.”

As if on cue, the sounds of men moving along the track began to come closer. They either had little knowledge of bush craft or were very confident as their progress was characterized by thudding footsteps, snapping branches and loud voices. As they came close to the track by the cave a loud “Halt!” was heard. All movement stopped. A voice was then heard giving brief staccato-style orders in German. There was a pause and this was followed by orders in English, delivered in a similar style.

“You are too noisy. Move quickly and quietly. Do not snap the branches. Do not speak. Proceed with caution. Search the bush for the enemy. They could be very near.”

More quietly the group then began moving off again. This added to the tension as Stuart and Carol, crouching in their dank dark refuge, their weapons at the ready, were less able to accurately assess the soldiers’ positions. All they could hear were the occasional footfalls and swish of branches. Several times even these sounds stopped, heightening the tension. Both had their eyes fixed rigidly on the entrance to the cave. The silhouettes of the twisted branches, the flickering shadows, flashes of light and the rustle of the foliage caused by the occasional breeze unmercifully taunted and teased their imaginations.