Valuable Commodities

Will was a very direct kind of person, and I had decided long ago that I would, in turn, be as open and direct with him as I could. My intention was to tell him right off that I had decided to take her with us, but I paused just a second too long as we approached him.

"Lieutenant, the jump seat beside you will be just right for Miss Larsen. I've brought several blankets from the barracks to kind of cushion things and make it more comfortable for her." His manner was quite matter of fact, as if the entire issue had already been decided.

Then he turned to her pleasantly, in an officious tone, "Miss Larsen, may I be the first to welcome you aboard our little airline. The rather austere accommodations are being upgraded, Darlin', and we hope you will be comfortable."

Then back to me with a little vaudevillian pretense of standing at attention and saluting, "At your command, sir!"

That did it. Annaliese knew Will from our earlier visits, and that he could be quite a character, and she was dissolving in giggles. The moment could not have been better.

The next hour was filled with plans and preparations. With the car we went back to her cottage for some basics. She gathered some foodstuffs in a picnic basket, the same one we had used the previous year together, and looked at me with a tender smile, as if we were going on a picnic together that morning. Then, in a sweeping motion, she captured a few mementoes and some clothing in a small bag, her hair brush, her passport, a photo of her parents in a silver frame, and with the bag rolled and bundled under her arm, turned to me. She had, in those few seconds said her good byes and taken her leave... and looked to me confidently to lead her onward.

I selected two of the pillows from the couch, and we walked out to the car, arm in arm, into our future together, such as it might unfold to us.

At operations we checked in. Commander Vermeulen was there, at work, and busy with some charts. Corporal Tracy was there checking in with communications and told me we had message orders from our controller at Ambon to fly south to Balikpapan and await orders there. Fine.

Commander Vermeulen came over right away and greeted us warmly. I took the occasion to ask who at Tarakan might be authorized to perform a marriage on short notice. He seemed not at all surprised, and turned to one of the others in the group working with him, an older man in civil dress. He was introduced as the presiding civilian authority in the area and could do so.

When?

Right away?

Step right over here, please....

Annaliese had worn her best dress that morning, and even after our walk in the relative cool just before the dawn and her efforts at her cottage, she looked just breathtaking to me. She was surprised that all could move so quickly.

The elderly gentleman sat down at a desk to write out by hand an official looking document, which would take a few minutes. I wanted Sergeant Mulvane there, and asked Corporal Tracy to take the car and get him.

The commander chatted with Annaliese and encouraged her to be confident in her future with me.

Within thirty minutes it was done, and I kissed the bride with very great appreciation, and she blushed for all to see and they cheered us on.

I had a beautiful young girl beside me as my wife, a supportive crew, a plane ticket out of immediate danger, and a clearance for immediate take off and orders to Balikpapan, further south on the Borneo coast and beyond the reach – for the moment – of the approaching Japanese. Commander Vermeulen handed me a typed copy of his last radio signal to his boss in Java, pressed into Annaliese's hand a small envelope as he gave her a fatherly hug, and saw us out the door.

She was a different girl, almost, as we rode in the back seat back out to the plane. She wanted me to hold her, and whispered repeatedly in my ear her love and devotion and appreciation for me coming for her. I stroked my wife's breast through her dress and she moaned softly in my ear, a most delightful and passionate response... and then pulled away shyly, conscious of the two men in the front seat, and blushing prettily for me.

At the plane we were all efficiency and excitement. Loaded and just about ready, Annaliese was sitting up on the wing waiting for me. Corporal Tracy had read Vermeulen's signal and called it to my attention... he had advised his boss in Java that he had dispatched valuable commodities in an American plane – giving our call sign – to Balikpapan, recommending immediate routing to Australia for safekeeping, and requesting a copy be sent to our big boss, the Commander in Chief U. S. Asiatic Fleet, who was then also in Java.

Wow!

"Valuable commodities?" He was correct, of course, I did have the commodities, if I interpreted his signal correctly to mean Miss Larsen. More than anyone else could yet know, I had the commodities! However, the idea of the signal itself struck me as odd. He had enough to do with the imminent invasion. That was the morning of 8 January. Within three days the Japanese ships were in sight from his window and Tarakan surrendered the day after that. Why the odd wording about commodities?

Was I missing something? Was in fact Miss Larsen the "commodities" mentioned? No answers.

Well, we had our hands full as well, and there was no time to mull over such details.

Another few minutes and she was settled in the jump seat beside me and we were off and headed south for Balikpapan. She had flown only once before in a KNILM Sikorsky flying boat, and was excited to do it again. She was all alight with enthusiasm and happiness and adventure, and her beauty and youthful happiness infected my entire crew as well.

What a feeling!

I had her with me and we were on our way. Marvelous.

But she would make it yet more so.

The back of the jump seat was adjustable and I had moved it forward, so she would be sitting with her back forward and looking aft. That gave her more legroom and there was a small, round window on her side to look out. She had access to her bag and the picnic basket behind my seat, and the two pillows and the blankets made it rather cozy. Her seat was set a little lower than the pilot's, and it proved very practical for her to lean over and rest her head on my thigh. When she did that she relaxed, and I could caress her shoulder through the blankets wrapped around her to keep her warm – up just a few thousand feet and the temperature was much cooler. She got quite comfortable and enjoyed the flight.

Actually, we both enjoyed being together. I slipped off my leather glove and let my fingers wander through her soft hair, and over her pretty face, trace slowly the classic line of her chin, and meander then to the soft skin of her throat. She had the blanket wrapped around her against the chill, and pulled my hand inside to keep it warm. My hand was soon at her breast again, holding her, and she relaxed and seemed to enjoy my caress.

After a few minutes of holding and caressing her gently, a little squeeze now and then, I wiggled my fingers a bit and she giggled, and I set about unbuttoning the front of her dress. With the engines and the wind I could not hear her soft moans of pleasure, but my fingertips picked up the delicate vibrations in her chest. Taking her bare breast in my hand was something very special to me... extraordinary! She was full and firm, yet yielding and silky soft, and... well, very feminine and very loveable.

She took a couple of very deep breaths then, pushing her breast into my hand, and then pulled the blanket tighter and, with her own, lovingly held my hand to her.

It was a very pleasant flight.

We had easily an hour and more of just cruising, and I adjusted things to keep my right hand free. That is, free to be fully occupied with her. With her deep breaths and thrusting her breast into my hand, I recognized that her passions and desires had been awakened, just as holding her in the night and now, even with just one hand, had aroused mine.

From the first she held my hand close to her. As I squeezed her gently and my fingers played across her tender, velvet-like skin, she wiggled and responded to my caresses, and then relaxed more and more, letting my fingers roam where they would, opening the blanket on occasion to watch them stroke her softly.

She turned her head up to me... shy, vulnerable, surprised at my fondling her and the sensations I brought her, welcoming my caresses, not knowing what she was supposed to do. I returned her smile and mouthed silently that I loved her. She watched my mouth intently, then smiled her sweet surrender and laid her head on my leg.

When my fingers focused on her tiny nipple, holding it gently and pressing only lightly, her breath caught in her throat and I could almost hear her cry out.

These were new and exciting sensations for me as well as her. I marveled at the gentle and very enticing curves and the beautiful contours of her full breasts. They were both so very firm and well shaped, while at the same time delicate and soft... and the sensation of her breast in my palm, with her little nipple pushing against my palm as I held her, was more fantastic and wonderful that I had ever imagined could be.

After the first few minutes... well after the first little while, several minutes probably, I grew bolder and let my had roam all over her upper body, up to her throat, and out over her shoulder and down her arm a ways before the fabric of her dress halted me. Then onto her back a little, to the nape of her neck and under her ear, then back down her throat slowly... and with one finger down between her breasts in little wiggly motions, and she giggled and looked up at me with a sweet smile and dancing eyes.

Tickling her a little helped us both break the ice.

Under the blanket, though, her dress was down off both shoulders and she lay against my leg, her head drooping and arms at her side, constrained by her dress, and limp like a rag doll. Her breasts were bare and swollen and flushed with my caressing, and she was panting. I could look down at her beside me, not much more than fleeting glances really, and the exquisite view of her was enough to stop the world. It was only with considerable self-discipline that I kept my thoughts sufficiently focused on flying and the job at hand.

She was a very pretty distraction.

I continued to caress her. Some would say I was playing with her. It was different, I told myself, when the girl was your wife and you loved each other... that made it entirely different, and the playing became something intimate and very special between just two. I drew little circles around her one breast with my fingertip, slowly getting closer to the tip. Her breathing was very labored and she obviously delighted in me fondling her.

I didn't think it was such a bad pastime either.

When I slipped my hand under her one breast I discovered something quite nice. Holding her was wonderful, but when I lifted her breast gently, taking its weight in my hand, she cried out... I could just barely hear her. She looked up at me again, eyes closed this time and her mouth open and gasping for air, but she responded to my lifting with a most passionate moaning. She was exquisite!

After a time she calmed and relaxed and seemed to rest. I pulled the blanket across her body before she got too cold. Each time I seemed to be pulling away she moaned and moved in the cutest little way to beg me not to leave her.

I worked her shoulder through the blanket a while, running my fingers up into her hair and caressing her gently. She seemed to drift off, soothed and happy. Withdrawing my hand was for her at first withholding warmth and life itself, but when I touched her nose and she felt me turning the plane, she let me go, if reluctantly. Gradually she recovered her composure, and as we taxied to the apron following the truck ahead of us, she was sitting up, facing me.

I thought at first that she would herself tend to her dress, but flushed and aroused and submissive, she seemed not to be so inclined and just looked at me with her soft eyes, and that saucy little pout on her pretty mouth. She had become very undone. Her eyes were shy and downcast, and she was waiting for me to lead her, and seemingly not anxious at all at having so let go of herself with me. She was quite fetching. As I shut down the engines and we could suddenly hear ourselves think again, and the stifling humidity flooded into the cockpit after I opened the canopy, I leaned over to her and spoke softly, "My pretty darling, thank you for being so open and fresh and lovely just for me. You are a delightfully beautiful girl, Annaliese, and I have enjoyed holding you close and feeling your love for me." When she lifted her face to me it was something wondrous to behold. Her eyes were soft and tender with love, and it was very evident that she was mine. I pulled her dress up and over her shoulders and across her pretty breasts and buttoned her up properly.

"Your hands are so very gentle, Darling. I love you." Her soft words were rich and full of feeling. The world was good!

We had, in previous months, carried messages, mail, and even special passengers for Bataavsche Petroleum and when we got to the field at Balikpapan, the company had a car to meet us and nice quarters prepared. That was midday on the 8^thwhen we landed there, and there was no avoiding the impression that tragedy loomed unmistakably. The Japanese were close, and no one thought it would be much longer.

It wouldn't be.

I encouraged Annaliese to just sit a moment and brush her hair if she wanted, which would, of course, allow her to gather her composure after my fondling her. I was getting out, and when she felt she was ready, I said, she was to stand up on the seat. I would be watching and see her head sticking out and climb back up on the wing to lift her out.

The BPM official had already arranged for the plane to be refueled, and Mulvane and Tracy would remain with the plane to see to whatever checks and servicing they could manage as well as the fueling. Corporal T let me know that he had completed copying a coded message from our controller before checking out with Ambon Radio minutes before we landed, so any message for us would now come via the Dutch radio at Balikpapan. Normal procedure for us. Sergeant M took pains to get the plane sheltered as best could be. There was no real shelter available, and with several hours of daylight remaining, there was still significant danger of air attack, although much less now at Balikpapan as we were farther away from the Japanese. The Dutch bowser towed ol' Number FOUR tail first into the shade of several large trees at the edge of the field, and the motion of the plane slowly rolling made her anxious and she stood up, and we waved and she giggled with her hand over her mouth. She was so very cute in her mannerisms.

I helped her down, and she brought her picnic basket with her, asking if I was hungry. Together we moved a safe ways away from the plane during refueling, and while Tracy and I slaved over the message to figure out what may be there for us, Annaliese opened her picnic basket under trees in a little clearing and began to fix some snacks for us, pending a decision on what came next. There was always danger of fire and explosion when refueling an airplane, so Tracy and I picked up her things and we moved her a good ways away, and explained to her why. I reminded her too of the danger from enemy fighters and to listen for airplanes. She eyed me carefully and was more than a little anxious, but I could feel her effort to put on a brave face as well, and her fixing snacks was a way for her to contribute and gave her something to do. That's not to suggest it was not appreciated. It helped her when Tracy thanked her for a big slice of good cheese.

My including her in the team struck a resonant chord, and she beamed at me with delight, as I turned back to Tracy and the message. Within another minute she had a big sandwich prepared for the corporal and held it up, sister-like, for him to take a bite, and, had he not been with the program before, that gesture would have won him over. He was thrilled at her attention.

It was also a good sandwich, with his favorite kind of cheese. When you live and work close to each other and scrounge for food, you get to know people's likes and dislikes. Corporal Tracy liked a good Dutch Gouda, and that was just what she had given him.

Working together, Tracy and I finally had enough to dope out the text and clear a couple of garbles:

XXX four fm homeplate x major in one ftr SIXTH recon X vmsb103 now disestablished x proceed australia via raaf darwin to report to alusna canberra for further orders x good luck xxx

We stood a minute and took that in. "Homeplate" was our squadron operations controller, who had moved from Del Monte to Laha with Major Crenshaw just days before. The message was a real jolt to us both. Our little project was liquidated and we were now the last of our twelve Marylands still flying. The Major and his crew in ONE had been lost on a scouting flight the previous day.

That's what 'FTR' meant... 'failed to return.'

From earlier messages we knew that FIVE and TEN had aborted at Del Monte, and then were destroyed the same afternoon by Jap planes. Our number FOUR was now the last plane remaining of the twelve with which we had started just a year before. There were still a half dozen of the fellows at Ambon, and doubtless they would be picked up by the Navy's Patrol Wing TEN organization operating there. Our squadron, however, Marine Scout Bomber Squadron 103, was history.

That all meant reorienting our thinking, and actually the message simplified our situation immensely. I had Annaliese with me and my two crewmen, and now orders out of the area. It was heaven-sent for sure; we could hardly be more fortunate, really. We were to fly on to Australia. 'ALUSNA' was American Legation U. S. Naval Attaché... the American Embassy in the Australian capitol. No arguing with that! We, all three of us, knew the Allies had nothing strong enough to halt what we had seen of the Japanese on Luzon and at Davao, and now we had been ordered out. Not very patriotic, of course, to just leave everybody else behind, but we were trying to be realistic in our long term view. Nobody said anything, but they with me breathed a sigh of relief... and taking Annaliese with us appeared now to be no big problem.

"OK, Corporal, get the charts out of the plane so we can plan out our flight path; I'll talk to Sergeant Mulvane."

He nodded gravely, full of mixed feelings, and headed for the plane. Before I said anything to her, I wanted to get Mulvane's thoughts. It was just the way we operated. We were only a minute side by side and Tracy handed me the charts and took over the fueling and waved the sergeant away to confer with me.

Mulvane seemed a little bent at the message, but I knew his anger was at the Japanese. He had not been that enamored with Major Crenshaw's command style, but Sergeant Mulvane was a Marine – first, last and always – and I would never have seen his reservation had we not been working so close together. I knew, too, that Gunnery Sergeant Allard, the Major's NAP and navigator, was a very close friend and drinking buddy. The reasonable assumption was that the Gunny had been in ONE when it went down. That hurt, and Sergeant Mulvane translated hurt into anger. It was his defense mechanism.

He swallowed all that in barely a heartbeat, and I would not have seen that either but for our experience together. These Marines were tough as nails. I was proud to be included in their group.

"We've got a pass out of area to return with more strength and whip these Nip interlopers, Will. My thought is that we make the hop to Makassar yet this afternoon. We've got five hours of daylight left and we can make it in..." measuring the distance on the chart roughly with my fingers, "in three at the most. Then hop on to Penfoi the next day and then were are beyond the reach of fighters at least, and can breathe again." I paused briefly. "What's your read of the situation?"