Tug of War

By Ross Collier

April – May 1942
Captain John Garrett of the Australian Army has been ordered back to Melbourne from Townsville to investigate a suspected intelligence leak in Central Bureau.
Garrett and an American Captain, Al Tucker are placed into the unit ostensibly as intelligence officers with no one, aware of their mission.
Tucker begins to work

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ross Collier
• Release date: Jun 26, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476453781

Ross Collier

Ross Collier lives on a small farm central Victoria. He writes part time and has published several books all in the thriller/mystery genre.

Book preview

Glossary

ACH: - Area Command Headquarters

AIF: - Australian Imperial Forces

Brownout: - Less stringent form of a blackout.

Central Bureau: - A joint American/Australian organization to intercept and analyse Japanese

intelligence.

Coastwatcher: - Civilians located on coastal and pacific islands who gathered and passed on

intelligence.

Corregidor: - US Military post in Philippines fell to Japanese in 1942

Cryptanalysis: - Methodology of breaking codes or ciphers.

Cranleigh: - Mansion in Melbourne used to house Central Bureau.

EO: - Executive Officer

FRUMEL: - Fleet Radio Unit, Melbourne

GHQ: - General Headquarters

PMG: - Post Master General – Post and Telecommunications department

PX: - Post Exchange – A store operated by the Army and Air Force

RAAF: - Royal Australian Air Force

Signit: - Code name for signal intelligence

USAAF: - United States Army Air Forces

WAAAF: - Women’s Australian Auxiliary Air Force

April - May 1942

Prologue

He lay on his back and stared up at the six men standing in a semi circle around him. They were smiling, laughing. They were, he concluded, happy he would die.

He found himself contemplating the most recent events in his life and the most distant. How moments ago the gentle breeze cooled the sweat beading on the back of his neck. How he had been lying hidden among palm trees at the edge of the white beach, his concentration focussed on the horizon where a cloudless blue sky met the Pacific Ocean. Then his thoughts floated to another time, in the past, when first he would have cooled off with a swim before spending an hour or so dozing in the heat. The islands, this island was his home. In the face of death, he observed, the mind wanders as if drugged. It percolates random memories and unconnected thoughts. Perhaps to block the fear.

He had begun the trek across the island at sunrise, walking all day through jungle, ignoring the heat and insects. Taking time to avoid being seen, to make sure he wasn’t followed. He loved the islands. The climate, the people, the ever present ocean. That was why he hadn’t left with the others. Why, when asked, he had jumped at the chance to be more than just a spectator in the war.

His gaze shifted to the pistol lying on the sand beside him. If only he had been faster. If only. Then he watched the blood coursing from his arm where the bayonet’s cold steel had sliced through muscle and sinew. He felt no pain, not physical pain but instead the disturbing sense of failure. He thought of Townsville. He’d let them down, he’d let everyone down.

First he had reported ship movements in the area and then the rumours among the native people of enemy landings. As expected Townsville wanted an eyewitness account and so he undertook the trek and reconnaissance himself.

The binoculars were at his eyes when he heard the sound behind him. Six Japanese soldiers, rifles and bayonets pointed in his direction. He had scrambled for the pistol on his hip. Not for protection. He simply chose death over capture.

Strangely his whole life had led to this point. The son of a plantation owner, raised on the island, he knew the land like the back of his hand. Every nook and cranny. Where he could hide, where he could safely watch. He also knew which locals could be relied upon and how much they could be trusted. The reason he had made this particular trip on his own.

The men around him seemed, by an unseen command, to adjust position. To ready themselves. There would be no mercy, he knew. One of them leapt forward and speared him in the ribs. A hot pain seared up his side. There were smiles on the faces surrounding him now and another moved forward. The bayonet entered his thigh slowly, pushed into the flesh until it hit bone. He screamed in agony. He wanted to die. But they wouldn’t let him. Not yet. Not until they were ready.

Chapter 1

John Garrett hurried down Collins Street glancing at the building numbers as he walked. He was as conscious of the paper in his pocket carrying his orders as he was of the changes that had taken place in the few months he had been away. Men and women in uniform were to be expected but the American accents were new. Melbourne had a different feel about it. More modern he thought, more confident.

He checked the building numbers again and stopped at number 401. It had been the Trustees Executive and Agency Co. Ltd. building before it had been commandeered as General Headquarters, South West Pacific Area. It was stone brown and multi storied, modern with small windows looking out over Collins Street. More suited to commerce than the running of a war.

He stepped through the main door into a foyer flanked by two armed marines and identified himself to the uniformed clerk. The smell of floor wax and timber polish filled the air. He handed over his documents which were duly scrutinised and then, apparently satisfied, the clerk directed him to the sixth floor to report to Major General David Bell. Garrett didn’t know him and wondered whether he was American. He had expected someone else.

He took the lift with a group of people, two civilians and four in service uniform, Australians and Americans. They were laughing and talking, work colleagues Garrett gathered. They got out at the fourth floor and he suddenly felt a strange sense of apprehension as he travelled the final two floors on his own. He wondered about the feeling and realised there had been a gradual tightening in the pit of his stomach for days. Since receiving the urgent orders to report back to Melbourne. Possibly the last place in the country he wanted to be.

The doors opened onto a small green linoleum covered area. Another desk conveniently blocked people from entering the floor without first reporting. Only at this desk sat a pretty WAAAF with a typewriter and telephone.

He walked up to her. Good morning, I’m to report to Major General Bell. Could you point me in the right direction?

She smiled. Of course. You must be Captain Garrett, the Major General’s expecting you.

She pointed behind her, Down the corridor, fifth office on the right.

Thanks, he said and headed in the direction she indicated. She had said expecting you but he knew that meant waiting for you. His stomach twisted a little tighter. As he walked he counted off the dark timber doors to his right and noted all the offices were on the good side of the building with windows looking over Collins Street. He passed no one on the way, there were no visible signs of life, although he could hear the sounds of voices and clacking typewriters through the walls. It sounded busy although it brought to mind Cicero’s suggestion that bureaucrats and vultures performed a similar function. Necessary but unpleasant. At the fifth door on the right he knocked and waited.

Yes? The American accent was unmistakable.

Captain John Garrett, he announced.

After a moment the door opened and a US Captain stood in front of him. Dark piercing eyes and thin lips.

Captain Alvin B. Tucker, United States first army. We’ve been waiting for you Captain Garrett. A hand was thrust in his direction which Garrett duly shook. Then Tucker ushered him into the office.

Garrett saluted and stood formally with his hat under his arm. Major General Bell remained seated behind his desk. His fleshy face perched on a thick bull neck. Sitting in another chair to the side of Bell was Colonel Beaumant of the Australian Army. He knew Beaumant well. A man whose face was dominated by dark shadows underlining perpetually tired eyes.

Bell didn’t return the salute but instead said, Morning Captain. I’m Bell. I believe you know Colonel Beaumant.

Yes, said Garrett.

Hello Captain, said Beaumant not standing up or looking particularly happy to see him.

Be seated Captain, the Major General said waving toward a chair. Take it easy. Bell was probably mid fifties and had the air of a career soldier. He was grey at the temples and wore his salt and pepper hair parted with parade ground precision. There were two chairs on the other side of the desk, Garrett sat in one, Tucker the other. How was your trip down? Major General Bell had a quiet, authoritative tone.

Fortunately I managed to hitch a flight with the RAAF to Brisbane and then caught a train. Without the flight I might not have made it in time.

Yeah, said the Major General, Townsville sure is a long way from Melbourne. Damn big country you Aussies have. I’m still getting used to it. But they told us you were resourceful. He glanced at Colonel Beaumant.

Garrett said nothing.

Let’s cut to the chase Captain Garrett, the Major General continued. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been ordered back so soon. We have a hitch. A hitch which needs to be solved quickly. Perhaps the Colonel here would like to fill you in.

Beaumant sighed and leaned forward in his seat. It’s simple Captain Garrett. Your plan was a good plan. In theory it should have worked, but it didn’t. It’s failed largely because we’ve a problem with one of the sections. Your section to be specific.

What do you mean? Garrett said. I don’t have a section.

Your old section, Number 4 Wireless.

What problem?

The worst kind. A leak. We believe someone’s passing over information.

Passing over information?

To the enemy. To the Japs.

Garrett was shocked. Unless the personnel had changed he knew everyone in the section. He knew them well. As well as anyone could and he didn’t believe it. How can you be sure?

Roy McKenzie. He glared at Garrett. You know as well as I do when we lost Roy we lost a good coastwatcher. A man who knew his island better than anyone. On a special reconnaissance field trip at your request, following up rumours of Jap naval movements as per your strategy. Extremely high priority, given what is happening in the Pacific at the moment. The knot in Garrett’s stomach twisted again. It had been his request for information that had caused McKenzie’s death. Don’t look so mournful Captain, his death was not a case of bad luck. What you didn’t know was all of McKenzie’s communications were in code. He wanted it that way because he knew he was vulnerable. So your boys up north only received coded messages. They were passed down here, translated and analysed and then forwarded to you. Here, in Melbourne, they were dealing with uncoded information. And that involved only one section.

It could have been an islander, Garrett ventured. They can be bribed.

Not this time Captain. McKenzie knew who he could and couldn’t trust. On this mission he didn’t trust anyone. He told us. That’s why he insisted on the codes. On this trip he worked alone. Totally.

Major General Bell cut in. I think you’re missing the point Captain Garrett. It’s not a question of if the leak came from the section. We know it did. Now we need to find the who. The section is too important to shut down. We can’t easily hand the work they carry out to another group. Too many specialists.

Garrett’s head was spinning. He’d only just been transferred out of the section. Two months, no more. I’m not an investigator Sir, he said.

Beaumant looked impatient. You’re intelligent, you’ve already proven that. You know almost everyone in the section well, except the recent additions, so we can put you back in there without raising too many eyebrows. We already know you’re beyond suspicion, you were up north when the section was compromised. This has to be done and it has to be done fast.

How fast?

Damn it Captain Garrett, Bell cut in. In case you hadn’t noticed there’s an enemy swarming in the Pacific. If we’ve got a chance in hell of stopping them, and that I might add is in some doubt, we don’t need someone on the inside working against us. Fast means fast. And let me make something else clear, Garrett noted Colonel Beaumant looking uncomfortable, You have gone a long way because of your past record in the field, but with your previous, shall we say, troubles in the section and now your island hopping theory not looking so feasible, it could be you are running out of chances. Three failures don’t look good on your record. In the States Captain we play a game called baseball. Do you know it?

No Sir, I don’t.

The idea is to hit a ball with a bat. If it’s thrown legally and you miss when you try to hit the ball, that’s called a strike. Three strikes and the batter is out. Three strikes. Do I make myself clear?

With respect Sir, if Roy McKenzie died as a result of an intelligence leak from Melbourne, that can hardly be my fault. Island hopping behind the Japanese advance isn’t a failure.

Bell’s eyes hardened. I wasn’t asking your opinion Captain. You’re here to do a job and do it you will. You have two strikes left. Again, do I make myself clear?

Garrett sighed. He understood clearly. He was wasting his breath. An order was an order. Who do I report to? he asked.

You will be reporting directly to me, said Beaumant. But ultimately through me to Major General Bell. As you know the United States Army is in charge of intelligence matters in this country now. He had the tone of a parent reminding an errant child of his place in the world. We’ve already advised Captain Myers of your recall, he’s expecting you.

Won’t he be suspicious? Garrett saw they weren’t happy with his questions. I mean Sir, with me returning so soon. Let’s face it we weren’t exactly the best of friends.

He saw the look on Beaumant’s face and realised he’d been waiting for this. Quite frankly we don’t care whether you are friends or not. I would have thought you had learnt your lesson about mixing personal issues with your work. He has his orders and is expected to follow them. As are you. Don’t let us down on this Captain Garrett, there is too much at stake. He stared meaningfully at Garrett. Nothing had been forgiven or forgotten. As far as suspicions are concerned we have told Myers we are expecting an increased volume in Signit traffic requiring analysis. Therefore he will need additional staff and you are part of the personnel.

Personnel? Plural?

Yes, didn’t we tell you? Bell said as if forgetting a minor oversight. This will be a joint operation. Captain Tucker here will be accompanying you. Two heads are better than one. Garrett didn’t like the sound of this. He would be much more efficient working alone. This isn’t anything personal Garrett. Bell glared at him. You understand time is of the essence and we can’t afford to waste a minute. With heavy emphasis he added, Nor can we afford any more failures.

Chapter 2

Garrett and Tucker were given quick briefings which included how they were to liaise with each other so as not to arouse suspicion and how they were to report to HQ. Then they found themselves being ushered into the back of an army staff car which had been summoned to deliver them to Cranleigh in Domain Road. It was a green Fordor sedan an indication of the level of importance that was being placed on the assignment. In the past Garrett had been forced to ride in the back of delivery trucks.

He sat behind the driver, a woman in uniform, who was probably one of the recent volunteers urged by the government to fill the workforce void left by men fighting at the front. He gazed out the window at the busy street, brooding. Tucker sat beside him.

If you don’t mind me saying pal, you don’t seem too happy about this job.

I’m not.

You don’t mince words, I like that. You gotta relax. From what I hear this plan of yours to island hop behind the enemy might work. Even if it did get off to a bad start. It’s all in the planning. I could help you with that.

For a moment Garrett hesitated. He looked at Tucker and considered his situation. He knew nothing about this man except he’d been ordered to work with him, effectively to spy on his friends. A bad start? You could say that.

Tucker’s eyes narrowed. You sure do have a cute way with words.

They sat in silence for a while as the car edged into the traffic and headed up Collins Street to King Street where it stopped for the traffic light. A tram pulled up beside them and Tucker looked out the window like a tourist. You know, I can’t get used to those things. I saw the trolley cars in Frisco once but I was just a kid.

The light changed to green and the car turned left.

So Garrett, what are we going to be up against in this section? You used to be in charge, I guess you know them better than anyone.

I suppose I do, said Garrett. Look Tucker, between you and me, why don’t you find something else to do? If there really is someone compromising information I’ll have a much better chance of getting to the bottom of it on my own. Garrett had felt a stab in the heart when Roy McKenzie had been killed. His idea, his plan. What had Beaumant said? His field trip. Now he had the opportunity to right a wrong. If a leak from the section was to blame he wanted to be the one to find it.

"What do you mean if there’s something going on? Those Coastwatchers are going to be damn important in the Pacific. Already are. And one of them’s dead because of a rat from your old section. You heard what Major General Bell said. There is no if."

Either way, I can do the job a bloody sight better on my own.

Tucker leaned forward and tapped the driver on her shoulder. They were in King Street and had crossed the Yarra River. Pull over here will you? The driver did as instructed and edged over to the side of the road. Now, Tucker said to the woman, see that corner down there? How about you take a walk for a while until I call you back? She simply nodded and despite the cold did as instructed. When she was well away from the car, Tucker turned in his seat. Okay Captain Garrett. It’s just you and me. Don’t you think it’s time we levelled with each other? We’re going to have to trust each other, like it or not.

Garrett grimaced. Level with each other? You’re in Australia now. We say call a spade a spade. But either way it’s the same thing. You go first.

Okay sure. Let’s see. I’m regular army only smarter than your average GI. Ended up with MacArthur and his gang up in the Philippines trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I headed an intelligence unit up there called Station 6 that knew what the fuck was going on, only the brass didn’t believe us. They were getting other info from the Navy guys. So I’m guessing they think I can help you sort this problem out.

You call that levelling with each other? Garrett said with a tight smile. To be sure you understand in the future, I’ll see if I can demonstrate what I’m talking about. To begin with, the reason I keep using the word if is because I’m not sure I believe there’s a leak coming out of the section. That’s because I know most the people who work there. The older ones anyway and while they may be all sorts of things, I don’t believe they’re traitors. That puts a doubt in my mind about the people who sent me on this job. Do they know what we are dealing with? And if I have a doubt about them, I have a doubt about you.

A look of rage crossed Tucker’s face. Hold on a second. You watch what you’re saying or I might have to remind you who you’re talking to. I’m a soldier in the United States Army and I won’t take that crap from anyone. Especially some two bit Aussie who seems to get it wrong more times than he gets it right.

Good, said Garrett. You see? When you call a spade a spade everyone knows where they stand. Call that driver back and let’s get going.

They drove the rest of the way in silence, with Garrett cursing his temper. He knew better than anyone if there was a leak, he would need all the help he could get. And if he needed help he could be sure now it wouldn’t be coming from Tucker.

Chapter 3

The car pulled up outside an ivy clad Victorian mansion in Domain Road, South Yarra. Cranleigh. Two storey brick, painted white, steps leading up to a front porch. Gables and attic windows. An incongruous building to house a modern wartime intelligence unit thought Garrett.

The two men climbed out of the back seat and presented their passes to security guards at the gates who checked them carefully. They were escorted up a narrow garden path to the front entrance of the building. Their passes were checked again before they were led inside to a small area with some chairs at the bottom of the staircase. They were instructed to wait. Garrett looked around and, as had been his habit, wondered at the people who once lived here. Peeling pink paint and drab military furnishings could not disguise the original opulence. High ceilings with ornate cornices. Heavy doors, big rooms. The smell of wealth hung in the air. Eventually an Australian soldier came down the stairs and Garrett smiled warmly with recognition.

Charlie Jacobs! he said. They had first met when Garrett enlisted. Charlie was regular army. Too old for the front but ideal for teaching new recruits. The two men shook hands.

Captain Garrett Sir. Didn’t expect to see you back again so soon.

To tell you the truth Charlie, I didn’t expect to be back so soon either. He shrugged. But orders are orders. This is Captain Tucker, Charlie. He’s joining the section.

Tucker nodded his head in acknowledgement and the two men shook hands.

You’d better come upstairs, Jacobs said, Major General Akin would like to say hello through his EO. He led the way up the old stair case and on the first floor they turned towards the front of the building. Here Jacobs stopped at a heavy panelled door and knocked. It was opened by another uniformed guard and they had to present their passes yet again before being admitted to a small room crammed with two desks and women working at typewriters. Charlie knocked on a second door and after a moment a gruff American voice told them to enter.

It was Tucker’s turn to recognise a face. Joe, how’re you doin?

The man behind the desk stood. Al. I wondered how long before you turned up here.

Oh well, said Tucker. I go where I’m told. This is Captain Garrett.

Captain Garrett, said the man. I’m Joe Sherr, Major General Akin’s Executive Officer. He asked me to welcome you two gentlemen to Central Bureau before you move to your allocated section. I won’t hold you up but he did ask me to tell you we welcome men of your expertise here and explain our operation. He indicated for them to sit in the austere wooden chairs in the office.

What we have done here is combine a number of intelligence groups, including your old Wireless Unit Captain Garrett, into one centre to ensure we have a co-ordinated signit operation. Our brief is simple. The interception and cryptanalyzing of Japanese intelligence. You will find US personnel here, RAAF and naturally Australian Army. Roughly a 50, 25, 25 percent split. There are also some Brits from intelligence in Singapore. The work we do is classified as Ultra Secret and therefore Ultra is the code name for any intelligence derived from interception and decoding Jap messages. This is a vital part of the war effort and we can’t afford any leaks. None at all. Do you understand?

Both men nodded and Garrett, wondered whether Sherr knew their true mission. It was almost inconceivable to think the command of such a group wouldn’t, although there was a tendency to keep all intelligence groups separate from each other for security purposes. Otherwise why the speech? Perhaps Command were being cautious until Garrett and Tucker finished their investigation.

You will both be working with the section which is comprised of your old Number 4 Wireless Captain Garrett. Assistant Director of Central Bureau is Major Abe Sinkov and the AIF Commanding Officer is Mic Sandford. Unless you have any questions, I’ll have you shown to your work areas.

They had no questions and Sherr pushed a button on his telephone. After a short pause Charlie Jacobs appeared back at the office door.

Charlie will show you the way, Sherr said.

They headed back to the stairs and were led down to the ground floor where they followed a corridor toward the back of the house. Halfway down they stopped at a door with the number 10 on it. Charlie knocked and when it opened they were confronted with a similar layout to Joe Sherr’s office. Another guard checked their papers before allowing them through into a small anteroom. No windows, cracked plaster lines tracking the walls.They waited there until a door off the side was opened by a short bespectacled man with a thick mop of black hair.

I wondered when you’d arrive, he said without any trace of warmth or humour. It didn’t take you long to find your way back here Garrett. Nice to see you too thought Garrett. He’d hoped he and Myers might have been able to get off to a reasonable start but clearly he was wrong. Myers gaze slid past Garrett. And you must be Alvin Tucker. I’m Anthony Myers, leader of section 10.

Garrett thought Myers put an unnecessary emphasis on the word leader.

Call me Al, Tucker said.

The two shook hands but Myers didn’t extend the welcome to Garrett. He turned back through the door. Follow me.

He led them into what had probably once been a large living room but now resembled a maze. Temporary dividing walls which didn’t reach the high ceiling formed mini offices equipped with small desks, filing cabinets and mountains of paper. They ran off at different angles to give each space a private work area. Maps were pinned to walls and reference books were scattered around.

Myers stood in the middle of the largest space in the room and clapped his hands. Listen everyone. We have a couple of new people in the section, ‘ he paused, ‘one I want to introduce you to.

One by one people emerged into the area where they were standing and Myers made the introductions. Colin Howden and Jim McMillan, old No 4 Wireless section personnel were the first. They greeted Garrett like the old friend he was and were enthusiastic in their welcoming of Tucker. They assumed he was a friend of Garrett’s and no one corrected them. Frank Shapiro was next, an American serviceman who knew neither Garrett nor Tucker. But the two Americans had a short exchange about hometowns and being ‘down under’. The next two to be introduced were Gordon Brookes and Derrick Parnell, who Garrett had recruited six months earlier. They were both Australians, mid forties and definitely not regular army. Garrett recognised the familiar university academic demeanour. Neither man wore uniform. Brookes a jolly balding man with a grey moustache covering his lip and Parnell absent-mindedly unkempt, gazed at Garrett through heavy thick glasses perched on the end of his nose. The final three to join the group, were two older women, Violet Cullen and Ivy O’Grady and the much younger Jennifer Lamb.

Violet and Ivy both perform secretarial work, Myers said to Tucker. Excellent workers who will take any notes or type any reports you need. Invaluable members of the team. They smiled broadly at Garrett clearly happy to see him back. Garrett gave them both a kiss on the cheek.

Myers glanced at Garrett and then said to Tucker, This is Jennifer Lamb, an excellent analyst who has done a lot of good work in her area. As he spoke he seemed to forget Tucker and appeared to be addressing Jennifer herself. Garrett was also looking at the girl. Her uniform in spite of its obvious shortcomings hugged her figure and remarkably he thought did justice to her long legs. Her auburn hair which was rolled up tightly at the back of her head simply framed her high cheekbones, bright brown eyes and full lips. It seemed as though all the men were staring at her but that may have been Garrett’s imagination, he couldn’t be sure. Jennifer broke the spell with a wide smile.

You do go on Anthony, she said, stepping forward and shaking Tucker’s hand.

Reviews for Tug of War

[ktu35114 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I always love an Australian Author and their books situated within Australia. Ross' book is no exception and is fantastic. As with his previous books, Sink or Swim and The Fenians; they are all placed in Melbourne, Australia. A place that is dear to my heart.

Placed back in 1942, when WWII was in full swing, Captain John Garrett was transferred back to Melbourne to investigate an alleged leak within the intelligence bureau. It is believed that somebody is leaking information to the Japanese and people are dying.

At Central Bureau whilst getting his orders, Captain Garrett is introduced to an American Captain, Al Tucker who will be assisting him with the investigation. From the get go, Garrett is apprehensive about the Captain and he doesn't trust him as far as he can throw him.

Going under cover, Garrett starts investigating and the information he discovers just doesn't add up. The further he goes into the investigation, the more dangerous it becomes. Garrett doesn't know who to trust or which side the spy is even coming from. Seeing his old flame again, Jennifer, brings all his feelings back for her. This only causes trouble for them both and puts Jennifer into grave danger.

After a man is shot for being the number one suspect, things start to go down hill for Garrett. The Central Bureau believes the man has been stopped, but Garrett isn't so sure and is disobeying the Major General in order to get the leader of the spy ring.

This is an amazing journey following Garrett from pillar to post in order to discover who the top spy really is. Will Garrett be able to put a stop to the spy(s)? Will he discover what the secret codes and messages really mean? Will Jennifer and Garrett be able to be together? What will happen to the protocols when Garrett gets caught? Will Garrett get court martialled?

This book is so suspenseful that you have to keep reading until the end. The historical detailing is so amazing that you can picture the characters and their lives unfolding on the pages. This book has it all, a hint of romance, thrilling, suspense and most of all action. The twists and turns along the way keep the reader guessing and wondering who the actual culprit is. I recommend this to all historical fiction readers and Australian’s in general.