Bomber Boys: The extraordinary adventures of a group of airmen who escaped the Japanese and became the RAAF's celebrated 18th Squadron by Marianne van Velzen

Author:Marianne van Velzen [van Velzen, Marianne]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2017-04-26T04:00:00+00:00

Two days before Christmas, Gus and his crew were the first to reach the new enlarged MacDonald Airfield. They flew in at about eight in the evening; it was dark and a slight dribble of rain had petered out after a downpour earlier. As Gus approached, he saw the reassuring flicker of a row of storm lanterns escorting them in.

‘Almost home,’ he said to Tom as he proceeded to land, hitting the lever that would release the plane’s wheels.

‘Fuck!’

Gus rarely swore and Tom looked around in alarm. He saw the problem just seconds after Gus had and braced himself as Gus pushed the throttles in an attempt to pull the plane up. As they shot past the runway, their Australian radio operator pushed his head into the cockpit and asked what was going on.

‘The bloody lanterns are on the wrong side of the runway,’ Gus explained.

Contrary to normal procedure, the lanterns had been placed on the right-hand side of the runway, almost making Gus land beside the strip. Landing on the soft shoulder could have killed them: it had been piled up with tree roots, branches, and all kinds of rubble that had been cleared when the runway was extended.

On the second attempt to land, Gus put his plane down as carefully as a parent would put a baby to bed, but inside he was fuming. He took his anger out on the temporary commanding officer, Captain Jessurun, who’d directed the placement of the lanterns. Jessurun was not a pilot, and apparently no one had corrected him. Gus stomped out of the officers’ mess and no one ever placed the storm lanterns on the wrong side of the runway again.

On Christmas Day, they awoke to the sound of rain pelting down on the tent roof. The Christmas Day cricket match had to be called off, but the men all received hampers from the New South Wales division of the Australian Comfort Fund (ACF)—the contents included a cake, plum pudding, cream, cheese, toothpaste, razor blades, some tobacco and chocolate.

The ACF raised money through various activities to buy food and make items they sent to the Allied troops. The Australian boys also received parcels on a regular basis from their parents or other family members. Norman felt sorry for the Dutch, who hardly ever received a package because their families were interned or suffering in wartime Europe. If they were lucky, they’d receive an occasional letter from loved ones.

Except for the hampers, Christmas came and went without much sparkle. On such a remote base, there wasn’t much to do anyway. MacDonald did not have women, beer or anything to entertain the men. A picture show had been set up just outside the camp and, if it didn’t rain, they’d screen a film. Cisco Kid was on just a few days after Christmas. You had to bring your own seat; the boys who didn’t have a seat found a spot in a tree.

Determined not to let New Year’s Eve pass by unnoticed, a party was organised so the Australians and the Dutch could celebrate the event together.

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