The Cadet Sergeant Major (23 page)

After a moment of doubt Peter replied, “No sir. It is alright.” To cover the cold, sinking feeling in his stomach he forced a smile.

“Good,” Capt Conkey said. “Now, Graham. You are to go on to say: THERE WAS A MURDER IN THE FARMHOUSE. This used to be a farm believe it or not. THE MURDERER BURNT THE HOUSE TO HIDE THE EVIDENCE. A GHOST PROWLS THE RUINS BETWEEN MIDNIGHT AND DAWN. I HAVE NEVER SEEN THIS GHOST (cross yourself) BUT I HAVE HEARD IT MOAN WHEN THE MOON IS UP. IT IS A LOST SOUL IN TORMENT. By the way there will be a half-moon tonight. It will come up at about 3am,” Capt Conkey added.

He went on, “Say:- YOU SHOULD GO AND CHECK THE RUIN. I SAW MEN THERE YESTERDAY. TO GET THERE WALK ON A MAGNETIC BEARING OF ZER0 DEGREES FOR 220 PACES. YOU MUST BE VERY QUIET AND USE NO LIGHTS AS THERE ARE EVIL MEN ROAMING THIS DISTRICT. THEY ROB AND KILL. GO SLOW AND GUARD YOUR EYES FROM THE THORN BUSHES.”

Capt Conkey closed his folder, fished out his compass and took up the machete. “Follow me, and bring the second kitbag and the other dummy.”

They walked slowly up the rise. This gently levelled out to form an extensive area of flat ground covered with thorn trees and a scattering of large ironbarks and a few river gums. As they went Capt Conkey hacked down all the eye level branches to clear a wide path. Peter noted other branches which had been cut earlier, presumably when Capt Conkey had planned the exercise.

“This must have taken a lot of planning sir,” he said.

“Yes it did,” Capt Conkey replied. “I thought it up last December when I was here with the CUO's Course teaching them how to plan a field exercise. That is why Lt Hamilton and I came to camp two days early, to check all the bearings and distances. We have walked it twice, including once at night to ensure the timings are accurate, and that the exercise is safe.”

Peter marvelled at the OC's dedication. He knew he was lucky to belong to a cadet unit which did such interesting things. He appreciated that it was all because the officers cared and made such an effort. It made him feel worse about letting them down.

Several large Burdekin Plum trees appeared ahead, and then the ruin. It wasn't much of a ruin and not what Peter had expected. It comprised two concrete slabs, a large brick fireplace with a broken chimney, an iron water tank lying on its side and a scattering of rusty corrugated iron sheets. A rusty car body of 1930s vintage mouldered nearby. There was almost no grass under the Burdekin Plum trees, just sand and dead leaves, plus numerous cow pats.

Capt Conkey pointed and said, “Help me stack this corrugated iron against that tree. And be very careful when you lift it in case a couple of metres of slithering horror lives under it.”

They stacked the iron. Capt Conkey lopped off a few more thorn branches. Then he dug in the kitbag and extracted a rope with a hangman's noose at one end. This was slipped over the neck of the dummy.

“Pancho's gang have lynched this bloke,” he explained. “He was Hernando the Hermit who kept goats and saw too much. Throw the end up over that branch and tie it to the tree trunk.”

The ‘body' was hoisted up to dangle from the overhanging branch midway between the thick black trunk of the Burdekin Plum tree and the ruined fireplace. Its feet were about a metre off the ground. Capt Conkey again rummaged in the kitbag. Peter guessed what was coming- a ghost costume! He was right. Capt Conkey tossed him a white robe cut to fit. It even had eyeholes.

“Wear that,” Capt Conkey instructed. “And have this Cyalume stick.” He passed Peter one of the plastic ‘glowsticks' full of chemical. “I haven't ‘broken' it yet. You do that just before the first patrol arrives. Keep it in your pocket so the patrol doesn't see it then use it to read your lines by. Here are your instructions.”

Peter took the two pages of notes. Capt Conkey then pointed to the tree trunk.

“Hide behind that. Wait till the patrol finds the body and reads this note.” He held up a note and pinned it to the dummy's chest. It read:-

THIS WAS HERNANDO THE TRAITOR SO DIE ALL WHO BETRAY PANCHO THE GREAT ONE BE WARNED

Capt Conkey gave the body a push. It swung and gyrated slowly and the rope creaked. Just watching it caused Peter to have another attack of the shivers. Capt Conkey began reading, “Once they have read the note you step out and moan in a ghostly voice. After they have finished their heart attack…”

Graham chuckled. “And changed their underpants,” he interjected.

“Yes. Then you say this,” Capt Conkey said, pointing at Peter's note. Peter read:

I AM THE GHOST OF HERNANDO THE HERMIT. IN THE NAME OF JUSTICE I DEMAND VENGEANCE ON THOSE WHO MURDERED ME. MY SPIRIT CAN ONLY BE LAID TO REST BY THE BLOOD OF PANCHO THE FAT. HE DID THIS.

I SAW THE BANDITS DIG UP THE TREASURE, SO THEY KILLED ME. THEY TOOK THE TREASURE CHEST AWAY ON A MULE OWNED BY MARIO THE MULE DRIVER. MARIO HAS A CAMP BESIDE THE RIVER AT GRID REFERENCE 407894. TO GET THERE WALK 220 PACES ON 18 DEGREES MAGNETIC.

YOU WILL COME TO A BARBED WIRE FENCE. BEYOND IT IS A SMALL GULLY WHICH GIVES AN EASY WAY DOWN THE BLUFFS TO THE RIVER BED. YOU WILL SEE MARIO'S FIRE FROM THERE. WALK ACROSS THE SAND AND DO A RECONNAISSANCE OF HIS CAMP. DO NOT USE A TORCH. GO SLOW AND GUARD YOUR EYES FROM THE THORN TREES. BE CAREFUL YOU ARE NOT SEEN OR HEARD OR YOU MAY SUFFER MY FATE. THE BANDITS MAY BE THERE. IF THEY ARE THEN SURROUND AND CAPTURE THEM. IF NOT, THEN QUESTION MARIO.

Once again Peter gave an involuntary shudder. He did not know how he would be able to face the next few hours. Superstitious fear he had never admitted to, or even known he had, gripped him with icy claws.

Graham chuckled and pointed. “Look sir. There is that bull you mentioned.”

A hundred paces away and just visible through the grey tangle of dry thorn bushes stood a massive white Brahmin-cross bull. Other cattle could be glimpsed further off.

“It won't bother you. Just yell and it will run away,” Capt Conkey assured them.

Peter swallowed and licked his lips. He seemed to lock eyes with the bull. ‘I will be here all on my own tonight,' he thought. He said, “Yes sir,” in a tone conveying that he did not necessarily believe that. As they watched, the bull lowered its head and snorted. It shuffled with annoyance and Peter glanced at the Burdekin Plum tree beside them. ‘At least I won't have trouble climbing that,' he thought. That knowledge was a crumb of comfort. He was now dreading the night and noted with apprehension the lengthening afternoon shadows. To his relief the bull turned and ambled away.

Graham turned to the OC. “Who is ‘Mario the Mule Driver', Sir?” he asked.

“Staff Costigan.”

“He is in for a long, lonely night,” Graham said.

‘So am I,' Peter thought. He asked: “What do I do after all the patrols have passed?”

“It is detailed on your Instruction Sheet,” Capt Conkey replied. “It won't be as bad as you think. You can both come back to the bridge now. You will stay with the QM at his fire until I call on the radio to say that the first patrol has crossed the river and is on its way to the Fisherman. At that time you both go to the Cowboy's Camp, light his fire and stoke it up so it will last a couple of hours, then walk on to the Pig Hunter's Camp and light the fire there.”

That made Peter feel much better. Capt Conkey went on, “The first patrol won't reach the QM until about zero one twenty. It will be about another hour before they arrive here. They have been told to use torches for safety so you will see them coming. Peter, you can wait at Graham's fire until then, before slipping away up here to do your act. You have your compass?”

“Yes sir, and a torch.”

“You can go back to join Graham between groups if you like, as long as you aren't seen by the patrols as they arrive there. Once the last group has passed you pack all this up. Go back to join Graham. Put out the fire and both of you walk back to the bridge. On the way collect the body and the Cowboy's Camp. Put out the fire there as well. Then go to the highway bridge. I will be at the bridge by then and we will head off to set up the ‘Bandit's Camp'. I will brief you for that then,” Capt Conkey explained.

“What happens down at Mario the Mule Driver's sir?” Graham asked.

“Mario will be there alone. He will tell the usual story; wife and ten starving kids, etc.; and will promise to lead them to the Bandit's Camp if he is allowed to go free. He will take CUO Bates to do a recon of the bandit's camp. While they do that all of the friendlies will collect at his fire. They will have time to rest and have a drink while the platoon commander makes her plan and gives orders. From there they will deploy as a platoon to surround the Bandit's Camp to capture the people there,” Capt Conkey said.

“So we have to play two roles?” Graham asked.

“Yes. So does almost everyone else. I roll up the tail of the exercise and redeploy you in front to act another part. That is why your timings are important. If you aren't there on time things will go wrong.” Capt Conkey looked at his watch. “Sixteen forty five. Come on. I want to be back at Black Knoll to watch the First Years do their practice ‘Stand to'.”

They set off at a brisk walk, retracing their steps. Capt Conkey took occasional swipes with the machete at branches as he passed. It only took 15 minutes to reach the bridge. Capt Conkey didn't waste time.

“Leave your pack CSM and hop in the rover. Peter, you stay here with Bert and the CQ. The QM will deliver the CSM back when he comes. Bert, set up a second army radio and put it in the vehicle. Peter, do another radio check with Lt Standish.”

Peter did so. When the second radio was ready Capt Conkey and Graham drove off up the bank. Peter dropped his pack and webbing and looked at the other two.

“We have a long wait. Let's collect more firewood while it is still light. Bert, you start the fire while we do that.”

The boys lit a fire on the sand under the bridge and sat around it to eat a meal from their ration packs. Evening crept over the valley, the sunset bathing the sand and river gums with an amber glow. This died to a pale grey, then to darkness. The fire provided a cheerful focus. The main sound was the racing ‘thump-thump-thump' of vehicle tyres overhead every few minutes.

The boys began to tell jokes which, in the absence of the adults, were mostly crude. Bert was a real raconteur and seemed to have an inexhaustible store of them. Peter laughed at these but they made him feel uncomfortable. The sex jokes made him think of Kate, naked, on the river bank. The nagging fear of discovery would not go away for more than a few minutes at a time.

Coupled to Peter's deepening sense of guilt, was growing unease about the night's activities. He began to feel sick. His imagination took hold and he could only think of the worst- that Kate would tell and that Capt Conkey and Graham would then find out. Peter pictured what their faces might then look like. He went through the subsequent interview in his mind. It would, he realized, be even worse if they heard about it by rumour but had no proof. There would then be a terrible sense of doubt; and of betrayal of trust.

Time seemed to drag. Tea was eaten, coffee drunk, another log placed on the fire. The boys unrolled their bedding around the fire and lay swapping yarns and reminiscing about previous camps. Most of these Peter had really enjoyed. This one he was finding a miserable ordeal. What twisted the mental knife was the knowledge that it was his own weakness which had placed him in such an unhappy situation.

At 2020 a vehicle drove down off the highway. It was the QM's Rover. The vehicle was parked next to a pylon and Lt Hamilton and Graham hopped out. Lt Hamilton was full of good cheer and jokes. He greeted them heartily. That at least dispelled Peter's immediate fear, though he searched Graham's face for any sign that he knew.

Peter was told to do a radio check. While he did this the new arrivals lugged their packs and webbing over and sat down. More coffee and more jokes followed.

Peter turned to Graham who was smoothing out his sleeping bag beside him. “How are the First Years?” he asked.

“All settled down with no problems,” Graham answered. “They did a practice ‘Stand To' which went alright. The OC and I went around to every section while it was on. We've just had a Company ‘O' Group. There are no changes to the program.”

“Where is the OC?”

“Talking to the CUOs back at Black Knoll. He doesn't start briefing the Seniors for another couple of hours yet.”

Lt Hamilton stretched out on his sleeping bag. “You lot try to get some sleep. Bert, you stay on radio watch. Wake me when the OC says the exercise has begun.”

They lay dutifully down. The night was mild so Peter did not bother to get into his sleeping bag. But none of them was really tired, except Peter, and he was too worried to sleep. So they continued to yarn and tell jokes. Lt Hamilton did not shut them up. Instead he contributed more than his fair share, although the tone was considerably lifted. Several of his jokes made them laugh so much they had to hold their sides. Peter tried to enter into the spirit of things but found it very difficult. He kept fretting about Kate. He was also deeply worried about how he would cope later in the night. He tried to tell himself he wasn't superstitious or scared, but in his heart he knew it wasn't true.

This was made very clear to him a bull bellowed not far off in the Anabranches. The noise was so loud and unexpected that it stopped Bert in mid-sentence. His mouth fell open and he stared. Then he grinned.

“Boy! That will test those patrols out later.”

They all laughed. Graham sat up and replied. “It will test Pete and me too. We have to go that way. Luckily Pete is going first.”

“Pig's bum!” Peter cried. They all laughed again. Peter managed a grin. It wasn't the bull; or the wild pigs; or the snakes he was really worried about.

Bert then added: “Those sheilas from HQ will crap ‘emselves.”

They laughed again. Costigan said: “I dunno. I reckon some of those HQ tarts might like a big bull.”

“Denton would,” Bert offered.

There was more laughter but it felt to Peter as though a red-hot needle had been driven through his chest. The other boys began to discuss the girls in HQ. This brought a warning growl from Lt Hamilton:

“Keep it clean you jokers.”

“Yes sir,” Costigan replied. “But...” He went on to discuss Leah Allen and whether she would or would not. The consensus was she would, but only with the right man. Next was Kellie Jones. No debate.

“She does,” Bert said with emphasis.

“How do you know Bert?” Lt Hamilton asked.

Bert got flustered and mumbled he had heard, which made them all laugh. Peter was now in a secret panic. He didn't want them to discuss Kate.

Cositgan added to his concern by saying, “I know one who would love to, if she could find some bloke who would.”

There was a moment's pause, then Bert cried: “Denton!”

Again they laughed and Denton was discussed at some length, nearly all of it unkind and disparaging. Graham ended this by saying, “Fair go you blokes! She is probably a very nice person.”

“Very big person!” Costigan sneered.

Graham shook his head. “Yes, but I suspect that inside that big body is a very lonely girl who just wants to be normal and wants love.”

“Well you can love her then!” Costigan replied with a sneer..

Peter took no part in this, but he did agree with Graham about Denton. While the others talked he just lay and listened. Costigan then asked: “What about Allison Broadfoot CSM? She's been giving you the eye. You should be able to give us the inside story.”

Peter blanched at the innuendo. He opened his eyes to see Graham's reaction. Graham half pursed his lips then changed it to a wry smile.

“She is very nice but she will have to wait. I told her that so I think I may have done my dash. Hell hath no fury and all that...”

Peter's mind raced. Was that his fate? He had still harboured secret hopes for after camp. By now he was almost in a sweat as there was only Kate left to discuss. He tried to think of a way to divert the conversation. But he failed.

Costigan said, “What about Kate O'Brien? I reckon she would be a ‘goer'.”

Peter winced inside and feared it showed on his face. Graham inadvertently twisted the knife by agreeing. “Yeah, she's certainly a hot number. But I think she would be very choosy and hard to get. But I've heard she goes all the way; and that she can be a real bitch when she is crossed.”

Bert agreed and added, “That's what I've heard too. You want to watch out Pete. She's got her eye on you.”

Peter flamed with embarrassment. “Oh she has not!”

“She has. You are too busy to notice,” Bert replied emphatically. “I'd watch out if I were you. They are cunning creatures, women. They lure you in then trap you.”

Peter laughed, hoping it didn't sound too hollow. The grin on his face felt like a mask. To his relief Costigan moved the conversation on. He said, “I tell you who does, and like the proverbial rattlesnake; and that is Erika Goltz.”

“That will do Staff,” Lt Hamilton cautioned.

“Yes sir. But she does. I've heard she does it for anyone as long as they pay and...”

Graham spoke up, his voice firm. “She might. And if she does it at cadets I want to know!”

Lt Hamilton rolled over and scowled at them. “That is enough of that sort of talk. You are just being boys full of boasting and optimism. Most of the girls are good kids with high morals and they don't play up. Now lie down and get what rest you can. It is twenty one hundred. They should be starting soon.”

As though on cue the radio crackled to life. Bert answered it then said, “The first patrol is moving now.”

Lt Hamilton nodded. “OK Staff, you and Bert head off and get the Fisherman's fire going. Take all your gear with you. CSM, you take over radio watch.”

They began to pack up. Peter lay back, his heart thudding and palms sweaty. The nightmare had begun! He lay with his back to the fire and stared wretchedly out into the darkness.

The CQ and Bert headed off into the night. The other three lay quietly. Lt Hamilton dropped off to sleep. Peter tried to but couldn't. He just lay there feeling scared, guilty and miserable. On the other side of the river he saw the headlights of a vehicle go down the bank and vanish under the other end of the bridge. ‘That will be the OC's Rover,' he decided. That did not help. It was to Capt Conkey that he would have to answer. ‘God, I'm a Judas!' he berated himself.

The radio crackled again. Graham answered. It was the OC reporting he was in position. Graham told him that the Fisherman and Mario were on their way. He added another log to the fire.

Peter rolled over. “I will take over the radio if you like.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I can't sleep.”

“You still feeling a bit crook?” Graham asked.

“A bit,” Peter agreed. Just saying it made him want to throw up. Graham accepted his offer and lay down. Judging by his breathing he was asleep in minutes. Peter sat and stared moodily into the fire.

Time dragged. Peter lay on his back and looked up at the concrete structure of the bridge. He noted large logs jammed around the top of the pylons. ‘It must really flood when it does,' he thought. He listened to the traffic sounds, noting they were much less frequent; a vehicle every ten or fifteen minutes instead of every five. A curlew began its mournful wail out on the river bed. The sound sent icy little darts up his spine into the base of his skull. ‘Lost souls doomed to wander forever,' it made him think.