sighed and reached out to hug her. ‘I can see why the captain married you,’ he said, a tear rolling down his cheek. ‘You’re an extraordinary woman, Diane Duffy. Just keep your promise.’
The following morning the train steamed into the station and a swarm of desperate people crowded aboard. As Europeans, Cyril’s party received preference, and a seat had been set aside for them, enforced by the handful of British and Indian soldiers in the town.
Diane hugged Patrick. ‘Be a good boy for Uncle Cyril,’ she said, crouching and holding her child desperately to her as tears streamed down her face.
‘Where are you going, Mummy?’ Patrick asked in confusion as he clutched his little school bag filled with paper and crayons.
‘Mummy is going to stay here a little longer. I’ll come to you when you get to Singapore, then we’ll go to Australia together and meet your cousins.’
‘I don’t want you to stay, Mummy,’ Patrick said, sensing that his mother’s embrace held a terrible despair. ‘Why don’t you come with me and Uncle Cyril now?’
‘I have to look after other little boys and girls,’ Diane replied. ‘But it’s only for a short while, and I’ll be with you before you know it.’
‘We have to go now,’ Cyril cautioned as the engine built up steam and its whistle sounded.
Reluctantly, Diane let go of her son, then stood and watched as Cyril took Patrick’s hand and guided him aboard the carriage packed with people desperate to leave this place filled with the dead and dying.
The last Diane saw of her son was his pleading face looking out through the window as the train pulled out of the station. She remained on the platform until the final carriage disappeared from view, leaving her racked with both guilt and fear. What if she had got it wrong about the time she thought it would take the Japanese to advance on the Malay town?
She turned on her heel and began walking back to the hospital to assist the doctors tending to the children. She wiped away the tears as she walked and felt the numbness of choosing to let her son leave while she stayed. Somewhere north of the town Australian, Indian and British soldiers fought a desperate rearguard action to delay the advancing enemy.
*
Bruce and Jessie, waiting at the police master’s hut in Kasalea, received a message via one of the native police. They were to accompany him to where Frank Holland had the main body of his patrol, and to bring as much of the remaining food from the camp as they could carry.
Bruce had no shoes and his body was weakened by malaria and a lack of good food, so the journey was a slow one. Eventually, though, they reached Frank’s camp and were immediately fed rice, tinned meat and some pork from a pig that had been butchered. The food was served on a large banana leaf, and both Jessie and Bruce gobbled down the meal. This was followed by black tea without milk or sugar.
‘I think if you survived the massacre at Tol,’ Frank said to Bruce, ‘there may be others who might have got away too. We need to reconnoitre the area before we leave.’
‘The bloody Nips will be all over the place,’ Bruce cautioned.
‘I can only think that the Nips consider a true surrender under a white flag, and we did not get caught that way. All the others were considered as resisters. They’re barbarian bastards, and deserve the same treatment if they fall into our hands.’
‘All going well, we will get you and Jessica back to Australia, where you will get the chance to fight the little yellow bastards again,’ Frank said without disclosing his intention to reconnoitre the Tol plantation district even after Sergeant King’s warning.
That night Frank Holland’s party was joined by three men he had sent out to the village of Ril. They had with them four Europeans. One of them was also a survivor of the Tol massacre and had bayonet wounds to his body inflicted by a Japanese soldier endeavouring to execute him. Somehow he
The following morning the train steamed into the station and a swarm of desperate people crowded aboard. As Europeans, Cyril’s party received preference, and a seat had been set aside for them, enforced by the handful of British and Indian soldiers in the town.
Diane hugged Patrick. ‘Be a good boy for Uncle Cyril,’ she said, crouching and holding her child desperately to her as tears streamed down her face.
‘Where are you going, Mummy?’ Patrick asked in confusion as he clutched his little school bag filled with paper and crayons.
‘Mummy is going to stay here a little longer. I’ll come to you when you get to Singapore, then we’ll go to Australia together and meet your cousins.’
‘I don’t want you to stay, Mummy,’ Patrick said, sensing that his mother’s embrace held a terrible despair. ‘Why don’t you come with me and Uncle Cyril now?’
‘I have to look after other little boys and girls,’ Diane replied. ‘But it’s only for a short while, and I’ll be with you before you know it.’
‘We have to go now,’ Cyril cautioned as the engine built up steam and its whistle sounded.
Reluctantly, Diane let go of her son, then stood and watched as Cyril took Patrick’s hand and guided him aboard the carriage packed with people desperate to leave this place filled with the dead and dying.
The last Diane saw of her son was his pleading face looking out through the window as the train pulled out of the station. She remained on the platform until the final carriage disappeared from view, leaving her racked with both guilt and fear. What if she had got it wrong about the time she thought it would take the Japanese to advance on the Malay town?
She turned on her heel and began walking back to the hospital to assist the doctors tending to the children. She wiped away the tears as she walked and felt the numbness of choosing to let her son leave while she stayed. Somewhere north of the town Australian, Indian and British soldiers fought a desperate rearguard action to delay the advancing enemy.
*
Bruce and Jessie, waiting at the police master’s hut in Kasalea, received a message via one of the native police. They were to accompany him to where Frank Holland had the main body of his patrol, and to bring as much of the remaining food from the camp as they could carry.
Bruce had no shoes and his body was weakened by malaria and a lack of good food, so the journey was a slow one. Eventually, though, they reached Frank’s camp and were immediately fed rice, tinned meat and some pork from a pig that had been butchered. The food was served on a large banana leaf, and both Jessie and Bruce gobbled down the meal. This was followed by black tea without milk or sugar.
‘I think if you survived the massacre at Tol,’ Frank said to Bruce, ‘there may be others who might have got away too. We need to reconnoitre the area before we leave.’
‘The bloody Nips will be all over the place,’ Bruce cautioned.
‘I can only think that the Nips consider a true surrender under a white flag, and we did not get caught that way. All the others were considered as resisters. They’re barbarian bastards, and deserve the same treatment if they fall into our hands.’
‘All going well, we will get you and Jessica back to Australia, where you will get the chance to fight the little yellow bastards again,’ Frank said without disclosing his intention to reconnoitre the Tol plantation district even after Sergeant King’s warning.
That night Frank Holland’s party was joined by three men he had sent out to the village of Ril. They had with them four Europeans. One of them was also a survivor of the Tol massacre and had bayonet wounds to his body inflicted by a Japanese soldier endeavouring to execute him. Somehow he
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