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‘Come on, Maggie.’ Gerry switched on the light and the four nurses grabbed their tin hats and raced out towards the nearest slit trench.
Meg managed to get both arms into her dressing gown before sliding over the lip of the trench in a shower of dirt. One foot clipped a body.
‘Oi, watch it!’ The male owner of the voice grabbed her, easing her down into the relative safety of the trench. ‘There you go, luv.’
‘Sorry.’ Recognising the voice as belonging to Corporal Davis, one of the orderlies known for his spiky sense of humour, Meg felt relief. Davis was sensible, for all he enjoyed a laugh and a joke, and he swiftly organised those sheltering with him.
‘Another body incoming. Scrunch up a bit, luv.’
Meg hunkered down and shielded her head as someone joined them, sending small chunks of dirt over her helmet. Davis wasn’t concerned who was in his trench, only that they were safe. Which reminded Meg . . . Calling names softly, she checked that each of the nurses from her cabin and Catherine’s next door were in the trench then peered into the slice of sky above. ‘Davis, do you know what’s happening?’
‘Maybe another raid? I heard a single plane go over. Sounded like it circled over the sea and headed north, then there were several crumps. Could have been bombs falling. Hard to tell, Sister.’
Crouching in the trench, packed in with unseen others, Meg shivered. It stayed quiet. If this was a raid, were there more explosions to come? Maybe on top of them? The huge red cross on the hospital ship in Darwin Harbour hadn’t stopped a bomb hitting them. Bombs—or maybe the pilots who dropped them—were no respecters of symbols. Bombs dropped, detonated, destroyed.
Each breath Meg drew sounded loud and shaky in her ears. Too loud? Could the others hear her fear? What about setting a good example? She forced herself to inhale slowly, hold the breath while she counted to five then exhale slowly. Not so bad, she thought, and repeated the pattern.
By the time the all-clear siren was sounded, Meg’s nerves were still tightly strung, but she had control of her breathing. No bombs had fallen on them and they were safe. As Davis and another orderly switched on their torches and helped them out of the trench, she became aware of someone softly sobbing and looked around.
Eva.
‘I think we all need hot drinks. Come on, everyone.’ Taking Eva by the arm, Meg rounded up her nurses and headed for the mess tent. She called over her shoulder, ‘Davis, spread the word, will you. Tea and bikkies for whoever turns up.’
‘Yes, Sister.’ His torch bobbed away across the green and Meg issued directions for two of the nurses to set water to boil and find the cook’s supply of biscuits. If ever they needed a sweet treat, it was tonight. She glanced at her watch as she settled Eva at a back table. After two in the morning. Whether or not bombs had been dropped, the enemy had disrupted routine and set them all on edge.
‘Sister Smith? Eva?’ The nurse was a mess—again. Even without her disregard for the rules it was becoming clear to Meg. Eva would not cope if they came under a concerted enemy attack. ‘Eva, listen to me. You’re fine. There aren’t any bombs falling. You’re safe, do you hear?’
Catherine approached, an eyebrow raised, asking if she could join them. Meg nodded.
‘We’re safe, Eva. Nothing more will happen tonight.’ Catherine slipped an arm around her shoulders and at last, Eva gave a small nod.
Watching her, Meg was certain Catherine would make an excellent replacement for her. The thought was bittersweet. Just as she had begun to feel comfortable in her role as head nurse on Doc’s team, she was running out of time.
Two big pots of tea and trays of mugs were set on the table and plates of biscuits were handed around. Meg took one and nibbled it, aiming to make it last as long as possible. Scanning those gathered, she sensed all aside from Eva were coping, at least outwardly.
‘Sister Dorset?’ Davis leaned close and spoke softly. ‘Doc Ransom said to let everyone know it was a single airboat that dropped eight bombs. They landed north of town near Many Peaks Range.’
‘Thanks, Davis. I’ll tell them. Did he say if the RAAF engaged the bomber?’
Davis shook his head. ‘That’s all he told me. Okay if I grab a cuppa now, Sister?’
‘Go ahead.’ Standing at the end of the table, Meg called for attention and passed on the details before encouraging everyone to drink up, stay positive, and get some sleep. ‘I know it’s hard after the excitement of tonight—’
‘It’s morning, Sister,’ someone called from the other side of the mess.
Meg nodded and continued. ‘After this morning’s excitement, but I expect you all to be as rested as possible in the morning. Later this morning.’ Grateful for the touch of humour, she caught the eye of the nurse who had corrected her and smiled. Cradling her mug in both hands, Meg waited until most of the others had left then encouraged the stragglers to find their beds.
As for her, she knew sleep would come late. She understood the nerve-shattering fear of looking up and seeing bombs raining down around her. What they’d experienced here was little more than a warning of what would come if their defence forces failed to push the Japs back in those island countries to the north. How much worse must it be for Seamus and the others, under constant enemy bombardment?
As she walked back to her hut, she paused and looked for the Southern Cross. The same stars shone in the sky as they had at the River but, without Seamus, they were cold and comfortless. She hurried the last few yards to her hut and closed out the night and the war.
