Chapter 11 L.U.C.A.; Victory Invasion; Island Interlude; Father Brown Mystery

L.U.C.A. and all that

HERE are some things about which recruiting officers deem it advisable to keep silent when lauding the advantages of life in the Senior Service to would-be recruits. F'r instance, one is not informed that naval men are not always "sailors" in the sense that the word is familiarly applied. Particularly, one is not warned against the possibility of serving His Majesty "under canvas". And thereby lies the story.

We first heard mention of the beastly business some few months after Nippon had raised his mailed glove against the Fleet in Which We Serve. Then, however, we regarded it as something rather strange, but happily not affecting us. The surveying blokes simply thought about it as "luca", which we in ignorant bliss passed off as referring to "lucre" until one day an irate three-badgeman presented his hoary self at the office and demanded an explanation as to "Why ain't I been getting no livin' under canvas allowance?" Oh! . . . we thought-L.U.C.A., well, well! and forthwith proceeded to thumb voluminous books of reference in order to get the dope on this strange phenomenon.

Meanwhile, the paybob had assured our "client" that his claim would be investigated and the result communicated through the proper channels! Whether or not our friend was altogether satisfied we are not too sure, but we live in hopes that we shall never see him again.

However, an intensive search, combined with much telephoning to all the recognized authorities on financial regs., at length elucidated something to the effect that "ratings serving ashore in certain specified areas (hereinafter mentioned) and whose living conditions are markedly inferior to those normally provided, are to be paid Living Under Canvas Allowance (short title L.U.C.A.) at the rates applicable, always provided that prior approval be first obtained".

The inevitable approval having been requested and obtained, the harmony of Sydney's Tenders Office was uninterrupted for some months, but as great numbers of personnel were continually being drafted to newly formed bases in New Guinea and adjacent islands, most of the senior members of the staff were now scanning the draft notes with something more than casual interest.

Soon the axe began to fall, and before long our names duly appeared with the instruction that we were to take up our new appropriations at the "first available opportunity". To many, the name H.M.A.S. Ladava did not readily signify anything more than Milne Bay, but to us who had the misfortune of serving afloat during the period of its hard-won establishment, it signified rain, heat and altogether the very circumstances their Lordships had seen fit to describe as "markedly inferior". Therefore we could console ourselves to the extent of 71d. per day for credit of L.U.C.A.

Getting our gear ashore was effected by sheer grit and determination, amid much heckling from a crowd of troops, boongs and what-have-you who had gathered at the wharf merely in anticipation of a pleasant respite, and not (as we at first fondly imagined) as a sort of reception committee. Our next step was about four feet up-into the back of an Army truck, and when we diffidently remarked to the driver (a private of enormous proportions) something to the effect "Y'know naval petty officers don't usually travel in the back of vehicles-er-mate" (this last with a winning smile), he gave such a malignant grunt that we decided 'twas better to settle down and prepare for the worst-which was soon to come.

Apparently our erstwhile friend in the front cabin had never heard of brakes, springs or limits to human endurance, or, if he had, his mind must have become so thoroughly warped by successive meals of atebrin and bully beef as to render him immune to anything less than a 4000-Pound bomb. Anyhow we did arrive at a spot vaguely resembling a naval depot in something less than three minutes for the three-mile trip, and for the first time in my service experience I was prompted to answer, "Yes, sir" when the M.O. asked me, "Anything wrong, chief?" whilst doing the joining ship routine. Which was, after all, rather an unattractive introduction to a life directly associated with L.U.C.A.

Afterwards, meetings with old cobbers and hearing from them the lurid details of our new life were refreshing experiences, even if we were not too happy at the prospect of spending the next eighteen months of our lives in the 'forsaken place, instead of twelve months as we had anticipated. It seemed to us that their Lordships had somehow got wind of our advent, and had tacked on the extra six months merely to demonstrate the extent of their unseeing eyes.

Then commenced the usual rigmarole of drawing bedding, etc., and generally getting settled in. To our great satisfaction, we found ourselves quartered in a substantial boong hut, which had been divided into two-man cabins -it was situated (we found out later) next to the galley, causing us much shortness of temper on account of our bedding being each day covered with a great quantity of soot. Still, apart from this, it was quite handy to the rec. huts and administrative offices, so we considered our abode to be reasonably good, all things considered. But little were we to know of the trump cards their Lordships had yet to play.

Later we were to find out that our arrival heralded the first fine day Milne Bay had experienced for six weeks. Another discovery was that rain was much preferable to shine, mud notwithstanding, as with the coming of fine weather the dust of the roadway and parade ground rose like a thick stifling blanket, democratically choking everyone from the commander down, and coating our belongings, washing, most of the food, inches thick. Also, experience proved that whilst we could overcome the mud by borrowing or purloining seaboots, or equipping ourselves with Army boots and gaiters (or maybe donning American waterproofs), we could not keep out dust nor prevent various articles of our much depleted kits from becoming mildewed.

There were many other things we learned, too, but most of them, like the incident when we nearly suffered major burns from using the latrines too soon after their decontamination by fire, are unprintable, and anyway too numerous to mention at this stage. Still, M'Lords, we did learn just a little about the wherewithal of L.U.C.A.

Some months later the buzz merchants got busy with talk about the commissioning of Madang, which had recently been taken by our confreres in the A.I.F. Wonderful buzzes they were, too, filled with glowing accounts of sunshine, sunbathing, swimming, sailing and all the nectars (well, practically! ) which comprise a tropical paradise. "Admittedly," they said, "one lives in a tent, but, ah! the consequent feeling of freedom . . . the pride of ownership, as it were. Imagine one's own nice little tent-ferns and frangipanni growing outside-coconuts and bananas to be had for the picking-Ah! joie de vivre." Never, never let it be said that sailors are unromantic. They're mad with it. They live it, long for it, and always find it somehow. Even regardless of the menacing portent of L.U.C.A.

And so in due course we were told that our small-ships' organization was being transferred to the Promised Land-and glad we were to leave muddy Milne behind us. The packing, loading, and finally the embarkation were completed in record time. Of that hectic period, and the actual trip itself, words fail me-it is a story in itself. The unloading and setting up of our offices were likewise hideous nightmares-and they were not, I regret to say, accomplished in "proper seamanlike manner".

Immediately on our arrival we proceeded to seek out the chief buffer for some information as to our living quarters. When we did ultimately locate him, after wandering over piles of coral and similar rubbish, he merely waved his arms in listless fashion and informed us in an extremely bored manner, that "over there" was; a pile of tents-to be had for the taking! "But, chief," we protested, "surely we haven't got to rig those infernal things ourselves."

He fixed his sage blue eyes on our red rimmed ones, then intonated solemnly, "Laddie, that's what you're being paid L.U.C.A. for."

Defeated, we turned and dejectedly made our way to "over there".

It was in the hours and days that followed that we were to discover the true horrors of unskilled labour. Being writers and stores assistants, the most difficult period of our service had hitherto been confined to slinging clean hammock, and to be faced with the prospect of having to arrange, in proper order, all the mass of ropes, tent poles, guys and stakes that now confronted our appalled gaze, was disaster indeed!

In the end, by dint of dogged perseverance, much swearing and shortness of breath, the tent was erected and cunningly placed as to be quite convenient to the mess hall and what are commonly termed "conveniences". This last was satire in the raw; showers without water-and lavatories with too much-(they were built out on piles over tidal water') The inside of our tent we found ideal for drying clothes, it being hotter there than anywhere else on the island. At night we had mosquito nets to protect our bodies from the horrors of malaria-although we never did decide which was the greater horror, the nets or the "wog".

Anyway, the complicated system of frameworks needed for their erection made it extremely hazardous to attempt crossing from one side of the tent to the other at any time between lights-out and dawn. Furthermore, ours being a bell tent, with no fly, we were soon to discover that tropical rains soon seek out the weak spots and worn seams-just why these places were invariably located right over one's head we can only conjecture, but in all fairness we do not attribute the fact to any laxity on the part of their Lordships.

Eventually time dragged on and the skin all over our bodies became canary yellow and repeated attacks of dysentery were beginning to take off the avoirdupois-and we cursed L.U.C.A. with all its implications. Then came the much awaited news that our reliefs would join that same day! Fourteen days' leave, then three months in our home depots. Gad!

In the excitement of getting away, we came near to bursting an artery or two, but we will always remember Jock's last half-hearted complaint: "Guess I'll have to reduce the allotment now - won't be gettin' no more L.U.C.A., y'know."

Two days later we were skimming over the sunlit waters of Rose Bay-and never did Sydney Harbour look more seductive. A wild dash ashore, swift good-byes to the boys, and in no time I was dialling the familiar phone number.

"Oh, darling," came my wife's soft voice, after the first torrent of words had subsided, "now we can go camping . . . won't it be wonderful? "

Camping? Not if you paid me. Not for all the filthy lucre.

"SEAWEED"

ISLAND INTERLUDE

Up the narrow channel between the two large islands, Moresby and Basilisk, the old Gerard plugged slowly towards her destination: the smaller island known as Rat Island that could just be seen on the southern horizon.

On drawing near to it a small motor-boat, containing an Army officer who was to pilot us in, came out to meet the ship.

This being our first visit to this secluded spot, our thoughts naturally turned to the sandy isle and the people we could now see gathered there on the beach.

The pilot was subjected to severe pumping during which he told us that the only whites there were five Army men supervising the "boongs" who, from the thick jungle on one of the larger islands, cut and loaded the timber that we had come to collect.

There was little habitation on the large islands, the native village and Army settlement being both grouped on the smaller one.

Our anchor was dropped closer to the beach than believed possible from first appearances. Immediately work had been completed for the day it was decided to carry out a personal investigation of the waters and smaller island. Boats were lowered and away we went.

The water here was crystal clear and it was no effort to view the bottom, which was completely covered with a mass of coral. Several beautiful pieces were won by diving ventures to the bottom. These were carried out after the pilot had assured us that the vicinity was free from sharks. Many and varied were the colours and dimensions of the fish that swam here in abundance. One small type that boasted about six different colours appeared to be no thicker than a razor blade, whilst a larger type was practically transparent and could be seen only with difficulty.

The village was visited, and the sailors soon found that the natives were not nearly as well educated in trading as were those at Milne Bay. Before our departure the ship was well stocked with papaws, bananas, coconuts, grass skirts, and model "warms" that were obtained in exchange for a small quantity of "tinners". The head boy of the village had been on the Montoro in peace-time and could speak English quite well, so it was quite easy to understand him when he gave us a lesson in the art of making coconut oil. During the following few weeks many a bottle of it was produced on board with varying degrees of success.

After supper it was decided to go ashore on to the beach of the large island that the timber was extracted from, and have a sing-song and a campfire. Our efforts at fire lighting were not very outstanding, but led by our banjo expert we made quite a row with our singing. A couple of natives that lived near by strolled up and became very amused at our antics. Before very long "warms" were sliding up on to the beach from all directions and eventually there were about twenty boongs in the audience. On completion of a song they would clap and shout enthusiastically. We considered this a one-sided affair, so after some earnest persuasion, we talked them into giving us a dance, but to us it looked more like a flight of planes and the noise they made was likewise. However, we cheered them heartily and backed it up with our rendering of "Roll Out the Barrel". After that they turned on one of their folk songs, and so it went on alternately until well into the night.

Next morning loading, began, and that evening we weighed anchor and proceeded back to that "beloved" place of Milne Bay.

It had only been a very short interlude but was a very welcome change from the usual work that we were engaged in.

"SNOWY"

ANOTHER FATHER BROWN MYSTERY

I was never one to enthuse over picture shows at naval bases, especially at one place in particular where the audience is, to my way of thinking, quite unnecessarily demonstrative.

Upon the occasion to which I refer, however, the exuberance was pardonable.

We had all settled in our seats. Cooks of messes, watch-keepers, and others detained at various duties having had their places "reserved" for them by obliging messmates, who zealously guarded the vacant scats, had paid their very audible respects to their near neighbours (anything up to a dozen rows away), and the show was on.

The "feature" film was received with the customary noises of a few hundred masculine throats emitting sounds vaguely resembling a lion roaring as Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer's famous trademark appeared to exhibit disapproval.

It was a picture which some would probably describe as "sad". It all started through love. He loved her and she loved him. Stupidly, she had allowed her emotions to control her head-and with pitiful results. Now she was in bed with a nurse in attendance. One couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl. After all, she looked so deliciously feminine and innocent. Such a shame that in a weak moment she yielded to the evil machinations of some cad.

Now a cot is being prepared by the dutiful nurse. Deftly arranging the tiny blankets and shawls, etc., she inspires one with her selflessness and devotion to duty in spite of the circumstances of the case.

Surely it is a public scandal that criminals of this type, "the man in the case", should get away with it.

Time has passed.

The young mother has been permitted to get up and about. She is now bending daintily over. the tastefully draped cot, her face betraying anguish mingled with maternal adoration. She looks down at the little mite, gently caressing the dainty folds of the cot with delicately shaped fingers.

Haunted by looks and fears, tears well into her lustrous eyes, as with emotional bewilderment she turns away-and with searching eyes gazes into impenetrable space.

At the bottom of the screen a small slide reads:

W. C. BROWN, A.B.

REPORT REGULATING OFFICE

By "Soapy"