Fiji

That Secret Radio Station An Incident of Outer Fiji

By Ga Ni Bulu

THE professor was worried. Deep, black lines were under his eyes. He had had nq restful sleep for several nights. His students were being neglected, because the Professor could not concen trate on his class.

He had listened, night after night, for a week, to what seemed to him to be Morse code messages going out from a secret station close to his school. Some nights it started sending at 10 p.m., other nights at 3 a.m.; but never a night had the spy missed sending out his code in long dots and still longer dashes —not an expert, but a very careful sender, who made sure his messages would be cor rectly received and read.

The secret station was close to his school. He had searched vainly during the days, but no sign could he find of a secret set.

There was nothing else to be done. He must call in the local ARP for assist ance.

The local wireless operator was in cluded, to take down the spy messages, as sent.

The ARP, the police and the wireless operator were all in position, duly posted around the Professor’s school. The night was a nasty one. It rained yards, not inches.

The night dragged on. The Professor explained that this was probably one of the 3 a.m. sending times. The troops were all alert. The mosquitoes attended to that. All the mosquitoes on the coast had been mobilised.

Dot—dot! What’s that? Yes, it’s the start of the sending. The position is clear: the spy is situated down on the flat.

The Professor and the officer in com mand decide to surround the position; to creep up on the spy and take him alive, if possible. But, at all costs, he must be taken, dead or alive.

The wireless operator is taking down the dots and very long dashes, but is puzzled by the tone of the set the spy is sending on. It is quite unlike any he has heard before. It must be foreign.

The signals are getting louder and louder as the troops draw closer to the sender. The circle is almost closed. The messages are stronger and still stronger.

They seem to be coming up out of the ground. The spy is underground!

The Professor gives the order to flash the torches on the enemy, and calls on him to surrender. Lights flash, and the enemy is captured alive.

He now reposes in a bottle o 2 spirit in the Professor’s academy—to wit, one large toad of the variety now so common in Fiji, the first and last he ever wants to see.

P-8-—This is a truthful statement of what actually occurred. No one can blame the Professor. These giant toads which were new to him —undoubtedly do utter a queer sort of croak—a kind of long dot-dash effect.

Mr. Lance Wilkinson, formerly a mem ber of the mines staff at Misima, East- Papua, is now Leading-Aircraftman Wilkinson, and undergoing training for the RAAF.