The Dog with Seven Names Page 11

  ‘Quick,’ Bonnie called as she heard the planes. ‘The Liberators are on their way.’

  Joan, Doreen and some of the patients hurried outside. I heard Bonnie count the aeroplanes as they flew overhead. There were more than four.

  The next morning, as the sky was changing colour, I heard the planes rumbling back. Bonnie was washing her hair at the outside tap. She stopped and I heard her count again.

  ‘One, two, three, four, five, six …’

  She stood up, flicked back her hair and smiled at me.

  ‘They’ve all returned safely, Florence. Thank goodness.’ After that, Bonnie sat on the verandah steps every evening. She watched the sky as long shadows darkened the spinifex, waiting for the heavy-sounding planes. They always left just after dark and came back in the early morning. When Bonnie counted them returning, she didn’t always smile.

  8

  Hank’s Pooch

  Late July 1943

  Our visits to Port Hedland became further apart. I missed Lee Wah, Fred and Matron but there was a safe feeling in Marble Bar (apart from the mean dogs). My longing for Elsie never went away, it was a dull ache in my belly, but Bonnie and Doc loved me and I was busy at the hospital cheering patients. Like Joan and the nurses, I felt useful. I was also ‘doing my bit’.

  One morning, after Doc had examined the hospital patients and I’d nuzzled everyone on the verandah, he went to check Swallow. I lay in the shade of a wing, watching as Doc pulled out her middle parts, cleaned them and put them back. At midday Doc went to the big stone building on the hill and I crawled under the hospital to guard the hens. When Doc returned, he collected his bag and called me.

  ‘C’mon, Flynn,’ he said. ‘I’m off to have an adventure and you can come with me this time.’

  I scampered out and shook my tail.

  Swallow was waiting for us at the airstrip. As we flew above the heat, I shifted my weight, ready for Doc to turn the plane towards Hedland. He didn’t. I woofed and wriggled around to look at him.

  ‘We’re going somewhere new,’ Doc said, ‘and it’s top secret.’

  Secret was when Elsie and I played hide-and-seek, but Doc wasn’t counting backwards and there was nowhere to hide in the plane. I pressed my nose against the small windshield between us. Doc was humming and smiling. It felt like a game …

  ‘Keep still, Flynn, or you’ll fall out!’

  I leant into my seat. Being on top of Swallow was always exciting. I loved being in the sky with Doc, feeling cool air ruffling my fur. Swallow flew low, following a line of hills as Doc checked the markings on his map. I looked ahead. The ground was shimmering like the ocean, but the watery patterns moved whenever we flew closer. I put my head to one side, trying to figure it out.

  ‘We must be close,’ Doc said. ‘Corunna is renowned for heat hazes.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘That’s what makes it the perfect place to hide.’

  The only part which made any sense was the word ‘hide’. I wagged my tail and watched the ground for big rocks and bushes. There weren’t many. Seeking was going to be easy.

  Swallow dipped over another hill and we dropped lower.

  ‘Aha,’ Doc cried.

  We dropped again and I saw buildings. Men looked up at us and waved their hats as Doc dipped Swallow’s wings. Then we circled a wide, dark airstrip. Most of the runways we landed on were bumpy. Swallow’s wheels whizzed along this one.

  Doc steered us to one of the buildings. I sniffed and looked around. There were other aeroplanes on a side runway. The ones Bonnie called Liberators. They were much bigger than our Swallow. More planes huddled behind strange little hills. They were covered in patchy nets and too big to be very good at hiding. Not like me.

  A soldier was standing outside a building waiting for us.

  ‘Lieutenant Hank Baker, United States Air Force, 380th Bombardment Group,’ he called as Doc stopped Swallow’s engine. ‘Welcome to Corunna Downs.’

  The soldier sliced the air with his arm then held one hand above his eye. Doc jumped out and did the same. Then they shook hands.

  ‘Please call me Hank,’ the man said.

  I’d seen Hank at the Ironclad Hotel. He was the one Doreen said was sweet on Bonnie. Hank had an adventurous Jimmy Woods kind of energy, but with an under-scent of sadness.

  ‘Good to meet you, Hank,’ Doc replied. ‘Our radio man said your doctor is sick.’

  Hank nodded. ‘He was airlifted to Darwin with a bad case of dengue this morning. It’s rife here, along with everything else. We sure appreciate you coming out to help.’

  ‘No problem. It’s an easy trip from Marble Bar.’ Doc looked around. ‘Quite a set-up you’ve got. I know this area, but even with your coordinates, it was hard finding you.’

  The man called Hank grinned.

  ‘We like it that way,’ he said. ‘The Japs know we have a base out here. You’ve probably heard their radio girl, Tokyo Rose, saying, “We will find you, Corunna,” but so far we’re like that needle in a haystack.’ I sniffed the air. There were no hay smells. ‘The ironstone hill and natural heat haze protect us,’ Hank continued. ‘Some nights, even our own pilots have trouble finding home base.’

  ‘That makes me feel better,’ Doc said. ‘I was doubting my navigation skills.’

  ‘From what I’ve heard, there aren’t many pilots who know the Pilbara like you!’

  Doc smiled. ‘Everett said you have a medical problem?’

  ‘Not just one …’

  Doc raised his eyebrows. ‘Anything urgent?’

  Hank sighed. ‘It’s mainly dysentery,’ he replied. ‘We have a water shortage and food taints quickly. And there are men suffering sandy blight and prickly heat. We’re hoping you’ll be able to stay for a couple of days until HQ find us a replacement doctor.’

  ‘That should be fine,’ Doc said. ‘We don’t have any serious cases in Marble Bar at the moment and we’ve sent our expecting mothers south. I’d be happy to stay for a few days.’ Doc stepped back onto Swallow’s wing and reached for his bag. ‘I was told your hospital is well stocked, but I brought supplies just in case.’

  ‘Thanks, Doc, we have plenty of medicine, just no one who knows how to dispense it.’

  I squirmed, keen to get out of the sun.

  ‘I’ve also brought our hospital dog,’ Doc said. ‘The mongrels in town are giving her a hard time. I didn’t want to leave her.’

  ‘I love dogs.’ Hank smiled at me. ‘Don’t you worry, sir, my men will treat your pooch like a princess.’

  The sound of my old name made me shiver.

  ‘Hello, Pooch,’ Hank said, holding out a hand for me to sniff. ‘I’ve seen you in town with that pretty nurse. Looks like you’ve been in a war of your own.’

  Doc explained how I was tangled in wire during the cyclone.

  Hank clucked his tongue, then whistled and tapped his leg. I hopped towards him. Hank swung me into his arms and I let him. ‘Wasn’t it Woodrow Wilson who said, “If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience”?’

  I looked into Hank’s happy face and wondered who this clever Woodrow Wilson was.

  ‘Come on, Pooch,’ Hank said, lowering me gently. ‘Let’s get you out of this blasted sun. We’ll go via the mess hall and I’ll ask Cook for a bone.’

  We walked towards a long shed and Hank chatted to me in the kind, high-pitched voice some people use with puppies. When we stopped, I licked his hand and looked around. There were a lot of buildings and tents. They were all covered in nets like the ones fishermen threw off Hedland jetty, but much bigger.

  As we followed a path through the prickly scrub, Hank warned Doc to watch out for death adders.

  ‘There are dozens of them here, as well as other snakes and scorpions.’

  I stepped carefully. Elsie had taught me to keep clear of snakes, and I’d seen what a scorpion did to Arunta’s hand.

  Hank led us to the largest building. It had a wide verandah and s
melt like our hospital. While Doc spoke to the nurses, Hank took me to the mess hall. We met Cook, stirring a pot of soup, and he promised to save me a bone.

  ‘C’mon, Pooch,’ Hank called. ‘I need to check the gunners over at the ack-ack battery. Why don’t you tag along?’

  I wagged my tail. Ack-ack sounded fun, like puppies barking at frogs.

  Hank led me along a row of tents, then we walked towards the hill Swallow had flown over. The Corunna Downs camp was huge with round drums of petrol scattered through the spinifex. Some men were pumping petrol into one Liberator’s belly.

  ‘G’day, dog,’ soldiers called as we passed. ‘Hello, mutt.’

  The men stopped work to pat me. Hank smiled.

  ‘They miss their own dogs,’ he said, ‘and you remind them of home, Pooch.’

  Hank’s words made me feel important. I stood still for the soldiers to fuss over me, even though the hot earth burnt my paws. Then I held my head high as we walked towards the ironstone ridge.

  The ack-ack battery was a line of guns that men were able to turn back and forth.

  ‘These are the guys who keep Corunna safe,’ Hank told me.

  The ack-ack men grinned and continued oiling their guns. There was a high viewing platform behind them. Hank carried me to the top of the stairs and we gazed across the tents and runways. The camp was bigger than all of Marble Bar.

  I saw men working on aeroplanes alongside the runways, while trucks drove back and forth around them. Above it all, strange shimmering patterns danced through the air as odd sounds echoed on the wind. Hank and I sat together watching the camp, enjoying each other’s company.

  ‘I used to have a dog,’ Hank said. ‘He was a Labrador named Max, but I called him Pooch too. When I was a boy, we did everything together. I cried for weeks when he died.’

  Hank ruffled my fur and I blinked as a wispy old dog shuffled in front of my golden eyes.

  ‘So, Pooch, who do you belong to, Doc or that sweet nurse?’

  I had no words to tell him about my real owner, so I rested my head in Hank’s lap and thought of Elsie. I’d almost forgotten her smell and the sound of her voice.

  ‘They both seem kind,’ Hank continued, ‘although there’s something special about your nurse friend. I’d love to buy her dinner one night, but there are so many Australian soldiers, and I get nervous around pretty girls. Do you think she’d like me, Pooch?’

  My tail thumped and Hank laughed.

  ‘Maybe you could introduce us again,’ he said.

  Doc and I spent three nights at Corunna. While the American soldiers spoiled me, Doc worked in the hospital. I visited him every afternoon to sleep on the soft carpet that lay over the concrete floor. There were two rows of stretcher beds inside the hospital, with a patient resting on most. There was also a curtained-off area where Doc did operations. I was not allowed in there.

  Every evening at dusk we all gathered outside to see the mighty Liberators lumber into the air. Hank, Doc and I watched them take off from the viewing platform. The air was oily with fumes and their rumbling roar was louder than any wet-season thunder.

  When the Liberators became tiny spots in the sky, we went to the mess hall for dinner. Hank and Doc ate meat from tins. They washed that down with bitter-smelling tea.

  ‘No wonder everyone’s sick,’ Doc grumbled.

  During the day, I nuzzled the lonely soldiers and danced for them. In return they taught me new tricks. I learnt to roll on command and jump over crates of bullets. While Doc was operating, Hank took me inside one of the enormous planes. I watched the men loading long metal tubes into its belly. I sniffed one tube. It smelt dangerous.

  ‘Don’t bump that!’ Hank warned. ‘Or we’ll all go up in smoke!’ He laughed and turned to the men. ‘How’s it going, fellas?’

  ‘All tickety-boo,’ a soldier replied. ‘Tonight this baby will give the Japanese troops in Surabaya something to think about.’

  A storm lit the sky on our last night at Corunna. Thundering booms echoed around the camp site and jagged light hit the hills, then bounced back to the clouds. The silver sheets seemed to tie the sky to the earth. I stared at the weird sight and howled.

  Hank held me close to his heart.

  ‘It’s okay, Pooch,’ he soothed as I trembled. ‘It’s just the ironstone.’

  His words made no sense, but Hank’s voice was calm and it seemed that he needed the contact as much as me. I nuzzled my face into his chest and thought of Elsie, determined not to forget her smell completely.

  We flew back to Marble Bar at first light. Hank had tied a message to my collar for Bonnie. He told me he was asking for the first dance at the Ironclad Hotel’s weekend shindig.

  ‘Put in a good word for me, Pooch,’ he said, roughing my fur.

  Doc raised his eyebrows, but he left the note where it was.

  Two days later, I trotted towards the Ironclad Hotel with Bonnie and Doreen. Music floated down the track to greet us. The nurses laughed and hummed along.

  Hank was waiting by the front door with a handful of weedy flowers. Bonnie smiled and I heard her sweet heart pounding. Doreen poked Bonnie in the ribs and giggled. Hank winked at me as he led the girls inside.

  After that, Hank often came to visit Bonnie. Some days they took me to a wonderful rock pool for a picnic. The pool was a short drive from town and its rocks held pale-coloured stripes.

  ‘It’s like marble,’ Bonnie told Hank. ‘That’s how the town got its name. Look.’ She splashed water onto the streaky rocks, turning them a dark mysterious colour. I shook my fur and watched them sparkle.

  Bonnie and I loved to swim in the pool and laze on the rocks. We chased little fish and I chewed water weed. Hank couldn’t stop grinning at Bonnie, especially when she held his hand. They smelt joyful and I was glad. Visiting the swimming hole with Hank and Bonnie was almost as good as being in the air with Doc. I danced and twirled. They both loved me, but Bonnie and Hank had each other. The memory of Elsie’s smell was so faint now. Maybe I would never find my true owner, but I knew that part of me would always long for her.

  9

  Matron’s Flynn

  August 1943

  Doc and I flew back to Hedland so that Doc and Matron could plan more evacuations. They talked about who would go and who wouldn’t. Whenever Doc looked my way he frowned. I knew he was wondering what to do with me.

  I was crouching behind the bougainvillea one morning, stalking a lizard, when Matron came outside.

  ‘Flynn,’ she called. ‘Where are you?’

  I listened to Matron’s foot steps. If they were heavy it meant she was angry, but Matron sat on the bottom step before I could hear her mood.

  ‘Flynn, come here.’ She whistled. ‘I want to show you something.’

  The lizard fled as I trotted across the hot yard. Matron tickled my ears and I lay on her shoes, breathing in her starchy smell. Matron’s dress reminded me of Elsie’s gluepot. But that memory was so long ago …

  ‘I know you won’t understand,’ Matron began, ‘and I’m probably crazy for saying this out loud – the air raids must be affecting me – but Flynn, it doesn’t seem right to not read this to you.’

  I yawned.

  ‘I’ve received a letter. It’s from a girl called Elsie.’

  My ears lifted.

  ‘The letter is dated late December,’ Matron continued, ‘over seven months ago, and by the look of the envelope, it’s been on a run-around before finding its way to us. Thank goodness it’s arrived in time …’

  Matron opened the envelope and I caught the faint smell of a familiar hand. I pushed my nose closer to the paper. Was it possible? Could it really be my Elsie?

  I nudged Matron’s foot. ‘Here’s what the letter says,’ Matron began.

  23 December 1942

  Dear Matron of Port Hedland Hospital, I hope you won’t mind me contacting you, as I believe you may be able to help me.

  My name is Elsie Grey. I am fourteen years old and my family
used to live on Clancy Downs Station. We evacuated earlier this year but I was not allowed to bring my small terrier with me. My father was worried she’d be a nuisance.

  Father is away coastwatching now and Mother and I have settled into an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Geraldton. There are gates around the property. Mother says it would be safe for my dog to join us – if we are able to find her.

  Like other families, we’ve lost loved ones to the war and if you are an animal lover, perhaps you can imagine how worried I’ve also been about my dog.

  Last February we left my terrier (her name is Princess) in the care of stockman Dave Frankston. Then last month we heard the terrible news that Dave had an accident soon after we left and that he has died. We are very sorry.

  Mother heard from another stockman, Stan Smith, that a flying doctor took the dog and that he agreed to find her a good home. Stan couldn’t remember the doctor’s name. He said he just called him Doc.

  Here in Geraldton, I’ve been learning signalling and I also roll bandages for the Red Cross. Last week one of the Dutch evacuees joined our group. She doesn’t speak much English, but she did say that earlier this year, after the massacre in Broome, there was a funny little dog at your hospital that was able to dance in circles; my Princess loved to dance. The woman said the dog was a great comfort to her children and also to a badly burnt boy.

  With so many families leaving the Pilbara, I’d almost given up hope of finding my Princess, but the Dutch woman’s story made me wonder whether the dog at your hospital could be my terrier.

  I have enclosed a sketch that I made the Christmas before last. You can see I’m no artist, but her eyes are an unusual gold colour, so that might help identify her.

  Matron looked into my golden eyes – they must have been shining with excitement. She smiled as she continued reading.

  Mother and I will be here in Geraldton until it’s safe to return to Clancy Downs. After the good news from Kokoda, hopefully that won’t be too much longer …