The Cadet Sergeant Major (27 page)

A huge fallen tree draped with creepers blocked the creek bed. They clambered awkwardly up over the obstacle, trudged around a bend and encountered another. This time they crawled under it.

“I hope we don't meet a bloody big pig in here,” Lt Maclaren offered as he unhooked the radio from an ensnaring vine.

“There are plenty around,” Graham replied. “We heard a lot across the river last night.”

“They will soon clear out when we arrive,” Capt Conkey said. “They get hunted frequently in this area by the local lads, so they are pretty wary of humans.”

“Our smell will drive them out when a hundred unwashed cadets come through,” Lt McEwen suggested.

Sgt Crane grunted. “Clayfield could do that on his own,” he said. This made them all laugh but Graham felt bad about it. Capt Conkey snapped angrily at them to stop the teasing. That made Crane say ‘Yes sir' but later Graham saw him scowl. By then they were ducking under another fallen log at the next bend. Ahead was a straight stretch of creek. Graham recognized it as the site of an ‘Enemy camp' during the previous years exercise. He had done a hastily planned and not very well co-ordinated attack on it. He blushed at the memory of his shame at the mistakes he had made.

‘How did I ever get promoted?' he wondered. He studied the place with the eyes of greater experience and could clearly see what he should have done. He mentally kicked himself and resolved to learn from the mistakes and do better. ‘If I ever become a real soldier I want to make sure my troops don't suffer from my bad planning,' he thought.

They climbed under a fence strung loosely across the creek bed and turned up an animal pad which went up the steep bank into the rubber vines. Many of the vines had been freshly cut and oozed white sap. The pad led onto a level area dotted with large trees and clumps of rubber vine. This area was surrounded on three sides by a dismal green tangle of rubber vines. By this time Graham was panting and sweating as the OC maintained a rapid pace.

Peter tapped him on the shoulder. “Give me that box for a while Graham,” he offered. Graham passed it to him thankfully. The path now wound down through a massive belt of rubber vine and head-high spiky weeds. The whole area was a gloomy forest. Graham looked nervously at the surrounding tangle. No place to meet a pig!

After about a hundred metres they emerged on the bank of the Bunyip. The bank sloped steeply down for ten metres to the water. It looked very inviting. The water flowed waist deep and crystal clear. A small tree-studded island covered with rocks and grass looked very cool and pleasant. They were on the outside of the big bend in the river opposite Ruin Island.

Their route now went to the right along the top of the lower bank, winding around trees, thickets of thistles and other thorny weeds and rubber vine clumps. The whole place made Graham think of the ‘Murkwood'. This went on for about a kilometre. Several times they were alarmed by the sound of grunting and crashing in the thick undergrowth on their right as wild pigs scented them and objected.

Lt Maclaren gestured towards the freshly dug up soil. “You weren't wrong about the pigs,” he commented.

“Plenty of snake tracks too,” Capt Conkey added.

Graham and Peter kept taking turns at lugging the ‘treasure chest'. After 15 minutes of rapid walking the group arrived panting and perspiring at a point where a large dry flood channel curved into the river. The channel was about 25 metres wide. The bottom was either sand or short green grass of the sort found on lawns. On either side were long parallel sand dunes about 5 metres high. These were cloaked in tall trees, weeds and a thick growth of rubber vines. The view along the flood channel was closed off by a wall of paperbarks about a hundred metres along.

Capt Conkey stopped and allowed them a chance to get their breath and have a drink. “OK Apaches, you wait here. There are several more sections of this flood channel, the same as this. 4 Platoon should be hiding beside one of them but I don't know which one and they may have a cut-off; should have if they do it right. You know what to do?”

The members of the Control Group nodded and assured him they did. Graham took the box back from Peter as they resumed their trek. They passed through two more lengths of the flood channel before reaching a longer section with a higher, but more open dune on the left.

As they strung out in single file CUO Bates' voice rang out: “Halt! Hands up! You are under arrest. Surrender!”

As pre-arranged the group did anything but that, except Pancho. Graham dropped the box and tried to bolt into the rubber vines on his right. The cadets hidden in the bushes ‘opened fire' with a fusillade of loud yells: “Bang! Bang!” Graham struggled on the edge of the vines and saw no way through. Instead he fell ‘dead' and lay where he could watch.

CUO Bates did very well. She stopped the firing and sent forward search parties covered by groups still hidden in the scrub. She had deployed cut-off groups and one of these blocked the ‘Apache' counterattack. Doyle's section was deployed to cover her flanks and rear. Graham conceded it a good effort.

Once the battle had died down and the prisoners and ‘bodies' searched Capt Conkey called an end to the exercise. Everyone was called in and sat in the shade.

“Well done,” Capt Conkey told them. “Good effort. Now, the good news. Not only have you captured Pancho the Fat but that box there is the bandit's loot. You all get a share. CSM, open it up and distribute the goodies.”

Graham did as he was told. The box was, as he had suspected, full of sweets: Crunchy bars, Mars Bars, Chocolate Frogs, Jelly Beans and the like. These were passed around and, while there were a few sarcastic comments from people who believed they were above such childish things, they ate them all the same.

Capt Conkey then gave a quick summing up of the exercise, concluding, “I know you are all very tired. The plan now is for Four Platoon to move to a secret location and camp there and HQ to move to the new company bivouac site. You can all sleep till lunch time. Control Group, you are doing demos to the First Years back at the Canning.”

There were groans at this and Brown mumbled that they had been up all night too. Capt Conkey called CUO Bates aside and showed her on the map where to take her platoon and gave her orders on what to do (and what not to do- eg. No swimming). The place was about a half a kilometre further along where Quilp Creek joined the river. The OC then told the Control Group to head back to the Canning. As they set off back the way they had come Capt Conkey told HQ to follow him. Graham and Peter went with him.

They climbed up over the high dune on their left to where HQ had left their packs. These were collected and they trudged upstream along the river bank through a glade of bent-over paperbarks until they came to two small parallel flood channels. Over both of these the trees met to form a shady green roof. Between the rows of trees was soft, clean sand. Graham knew the area well, the unit having camped there the previous year. It was, he thought, one of the nicest camping spots he had ever been to and he was happy to be using it again.

Lt Hamilton sat there on a large ‘Eski'.

“Drinks anyone? Only a dollar,” he cried.

“In a minute QM,” Capt Conkey said. “Now, Sgt Bronsky, HQ is to camp here. We will be back by about fifteen hundred. Until then they can lie around and sleep. They can do washing but on no account is anyone to go in the water. No swimming. They are to stay here, except to go to the toilet. The safety vehicle is up there on top of the bank and you have this radio. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Peter replied.

Graham thankfully dropped the empty box and shrugged off his pack. His shoulder muscles were slightly sore. ‘I'm getting unfit,' he thought with annoyance. He looked around. It was a lovely spot. The water gleamed through the trees only 25 metres away and a delicious cool breeze made him shiver.

Capt Conkey looked at his watch. “No rest for the wicked. Grab a soft drink if you want one and let's get back. Lt Maclaren, leave the radio here with HQ. Let's go.”

Graham purchased a can of ice cold ‘Fanta' and drank deeply. It was delicious. He shivered with pleasure then set off with the OC and 2ic to walk back to the Canning. They walked quickly back the way they had come and by 0945 were back at the mouth of Dingo Creek.

By the time Graham arrived back at Canning Junction the First Year platoons had reached there and lay in the shade along the far bank in platoon groups. They had only walked a kilometre and a half since leaving Black Knoll and already some cadets lay around looking exhausted. The ‘Apaches' had reverted to being their usually surly selves, having cleaned off their ‘war paint' and restored their prized yellow epaulets.

Capt Conkey had the company grouped in sections to watch a demonstration of scouting. This was followed by an explanation of how to deal with situations like ‘The Body and the Sniper'. This was provided by the Control Group, supplemented by the two ‘Q' and by Henning and Parnell.

Graham was free to stand to one side and watch. He concentrated mostly on observing the cadets, particularly the corporals. For the section commanders their big test was coming up: leading a patrol around an ‘Incident Course'. After the lessons they were now getting they would have a practice patrol along Dingo Creek and through the rubber vines to the new bivouac site. The next day was a day-long patrol exercise. It was apparent to Graham that some were already showing the strain.

‘Anne Hopewell looks very anxious,' he decided. ‘And bloody Goltz! She is not even paying attention, just making eyes at CUO White!' Graham sucked his teeth in disapproval and pondered preventative action.

Next the demo squad showed how to do a counter-ambush drill. This was enlivened by a spectacular crash landing by LCpl Martin which drew enthusiastic cheers and laughter from the audience. Graham smiled. ‘Good old Martin. He is one of the best cadets in the unit'.

At that point Graham was distracted by scrabbling behind him. He turned to look.

Clayfield!

The cadet was trying to climb the steep creek bank and it kept crumbling under his weight. To make it worse he was wearing sand shoes rather than boots, because he had bad blisters, so he could not get proper traction. All the back of his trousers was stained wet. The dust and sand he dislodged cascaded down to annoy the row of sergeants sitting at the rear.

Stephen growled at him, “Watch what you are doing Clayfield! Go some other way, blast you!”

Graham met Stephen's eyes. Stephen made a face and shrugged. The problem of Cadet Clayfield baffled Graham. He wanted to help but was at a loss as to how. Clayfield scrambled off into the rubber vines. The sections rose to do a ‘Talk-through, walk-through' practice.

“Come on sergeants!” Graham growled when the row of sergeants remained seated in the shade. “Stop gossiping and go and check you troops are doing it correctly.”

The sergeants rose and moved out with their sections. Graham stood beside the OC and watched. A noise in the lantana made him turn- Cadet Clayfield coming back. Clayfield couldn't seem to find an easy way down and ended up slipping. He slid to the bottom in a cloud of dust. Sand and clay particles poured down on him.

A glance showed Graham that only Clayfield's dignity was hurt. The unfortunate cadet began to cry. Graham pointed down the river bed.

“Go and wash yourself and those trousers Cadet Clayfield, and get changed,” he said.

Cadet Clayfield gave him a grateful look and said, “Yes CSM. Thank you CSM.” He then glanced at Capt Conkey who nodded. Cadet Clayfield hurried off to where his pack lay in a row with the others. Shaking his head in bafflement Graham turned his back on him. So did the Capt Conkey, who sighed and said, “He is getting better, and he is starting to smile.”

There was one more lesson before lunch; on how to take advantage of an unsuspecting enemy heading their way by setting an immediate ambush. The sections were then sent to practice. While they did this the OC led the demo squad off to set up the practice patrol course. Graham was struck with admiration.

“Where does the man get all the energy?” he commented to Stephen. “He's been up all night, and already been along that track twice.”

“We are bloody lucky to have him,” Stephen observed. “The unit could be commanded by some useless slug who does nothing and who is just in it for the power and the glory.”

“You are right there,” Graham agreed, remembering all the interesting camps and exercises they had been on. “Do you remem...” He stopped and pointed. “That bloody Lance Corporal Leroy, arguing with Cpl Davies again. I'm getting sick of that.”

Graham took a pace forward, then stopped. CUO Grenfell had appeared near the section and began speaking to Leroy. Seeing that was being dealt with Graham looked round to check on the other problem sections: Gallon's and Brassington's. He noted that Clayfield was not yet back. As for Barbara's, things didn't look too happy there either, judging by the red face under the red hair.

As he watched it dawned on Graham why he had suffered the way he had the previous year. ‘It was just after this exercise that I was given that new section.' He made a wry face. Obviously last year's CSM, Warrant Officer Cleland, and the OC, had been doing exactly what he was now doing; and were trying to repair the sections as teams before the big exercise. They had obviously opted to have one really bad section. ‘And I was the bunny chosen to wear them! Oh well, it was a vote of confidence I suppose.'

Lunch time arrived. The platoons coalesced thankfully into the shade. Staff Costigan appeared and organized work parties to collect water jerry cans. Graham sat with Stephen and prepared his own meal: Vienna Sausages in salty water. He drank most of the water, relishing the salt. Then he heated the sausages and ate them. Coffee followed, to help wash down some ration pack biscuits. Graham was content. He was living the life he loved in a place he loved. The heat, the isolation, the flies, snakes, pigs, dust, thorn bushes and rubber vines all added up to a challenge. ‘And I am with my best friends.'

Capt Conkey returned with Sgt Crane. He joined them to eat a hasty meal. The Coy ‘O' Group was then called together and given instructions for the afternoon. Lt Maclaren and Lt McEwen arranged to take the car and station wagon to the army camp. The Rover was to be moved to join Lt Hamilton's Rover near Quilp Creek.

“And I can have another shower while the jerry cans are being filled,” Lt McEwen said.

“Oh Miss! That's not fair,” Sheila Sherry replied with a laugh.

“You get a swim instead.”

During the afternoon activities the CUOs were to stay with their platoons. The sergeants were to supplement the ‘enemy'. Graham was to move with the OC.

Capt Conkey drained his cup and looked at them all. “Remember, this is where we really start to see what they are worth, both NCOs and cadets. So keep notes; and I want good, accurate reports. Now, Three Platoon, you are to move first; Nine Section, Eight, Seven. Ten minutes apart. I want the first one moving fifteen minutes from now. Make sure they have a big drink and refill their waterbottles. It is hot enough for us to get some heat exhaustion cases. OK, move!”

The CUOs and sergeants did. But Capt Conkey did not. He began heating a tin for lunch. Graham watched Sgt Crane lead the sergeants off and hovered uncertainly.

“Sit down and relax CSM,” Capt Conkey said. “There is plenty of time to watch this lot tomorrow. Anyway, my mind is pretty well made up, at least about the corporals. There will be enough people watching them today without us.”

“Yes sir. I remember what it was like with you watching me last year,” Graham replied. He sat and watched Cpl Fredericks, all in a dither, eventually sort his section out and get them moving into Dingo Creek. Graham sympathized. Lt McEwen returned from doctoring various cases of blisters and chafing. The health of the troops became their topic of conversation.

“The only upset stomach so far seems to be Cadet Clayfield's,” she said.

Graham looked around. “Is he back yet? I told him to go and wash.”

“Yes he is, but he looks the most miserable little boy. He is sitting on his own, the complete outcast,” Lt McEwen replied.

“He is a real worry that boy,” Capt Conkey said. “I hope he doesn't start an epidemic of diarrhoea. That would put the lid on the camp well and truly.”

Lt McEwen agreed. “Yes, that would be a shame. The camp is going really well. The cadets are getting into the swing of it now. What do you think CSM?”

“I think so too Miss,” Graham replied. “They are tired and dirty but a swim and a good night's sleep will set them up. They are over all their initial adjustments and have toughened up enough to cope. I know I am really enjoying it.”

Capt Conkey smiled. “We can see that. I'm glad. What about the sergeants? How are they taking it?”

This question bothered Graham and he hesitated because the first sergeant he thought of was Peter- and he did not give the impression he was having a good time at all. He thought Peter looked very withdrawn and thoughtful, as well as tired- he was going to say strained, but changed it. On the other hand it was obvious that Stephen and Gwen were having a good time so he said so.

“And Rankin seems to have taken the bit between his teeth sir. He is shaping up quite well. Crane, well, he's just his usual surly self.”

They discussed the sergeants a bit longer and then moved on to discuss Exercise ‘Bunyip Ghost'. Lt McEwen was keen to hear how it had gone. Graham was enthusiastic and recounted his and Peter's adventures. While Graham was talking Cpl Gallon lined his section up ready for the patrol course. As he did he shouted angrily, “Hurry up Clayfield, you filthy little turd!”

Graham and the officers at once looked up. Graham opened his mouth to call out at Gallon but Capt Conkey beat him to it. “That is enough talk like that thank you Cpl Gallon! We will have no abuse in this unit.”

“Yes sir,” Cpl Gallon replied sulkily.

Graham saw Cadet Clayfield, now wearing a dry shirt but soaking wet trousers, hurrying to join the section, his face red with shame. The section moved off. Graham watched them go and shook his head. “We must do something about Cadet Clayfield Sir,” he said.

Capt Conkey sighed and nodded. “I agree. Sending him home might be best.”

“What about swapping him to another section at least?” Lt McEwen suggested.

“Might be worth a try,” Capt Conkey agreed. “But which one?”

They discussed this for a while then switched to discussing the next day's patrol exercise. Time passed. 6 Section lined up- Roger's.

“Time we moved,” Capt Conkey said, packing away his stove. “We will follow Cpl Dunning.”

‘Poor old Roger,' Graham thought. Then he cheered up. ‘If the OC particularly wants to watch Roger's performance it must mean he is being seriously considered for promotion.'

Graham stood up and dusted his backside, hoisted on his webbing, had a big drink, refilled the waterbottle, then followed Capt Conkey and Lt Standish as they slowly walked along behind the section. The other officers set out on their trip to the army camp.

Roger's effort with the first contact in the gully was on a par with Graham's the year before: cadets vanished into the rubber vines in all directions. Roger tried to climb the bank, got all tangled up in the vines, went red in the face with struggling and yelling, then slithered down behind a tree. He proceeded to regain control with his voice.

The next incident was a ‘minefield' in the creek bed. Roger's scouts detected it and they passed through it safely by sending a scout to prod his way through, covered by the others. A ‘camp' with two ‘enemy' sitting at a fire was the third problem. Roger did a quick recon from the top of the bank. Having done that he scrambled back down and began to issue orders to his cadets. The set of his jaw and his general attitude made it obvious he was under stress from being so closely observed.

To Graham's relief the subsequent attack went off alright. ‘Better than mine,' he grudgingly conceded. Capt Conkey grunted with approval then said to Graham, “We will give Corporal Dunning a break and stay here to watch the next couple of sections.”

So the three of them stood in the hot, airless gully and discussed Roger until the next section's scouts appeared. This was Fiona Davies' and she was clearly very angry. The reason soon became evident. As she began giving orders for the attack LCpl Leroy disagreed with her plan.

Leroy pointed along the creek bed. “We should attack along here instead of from up on the bank,” he argued.

“Shut up Leroy!” Fiona shouted. “Just do what I say. Now take the Machine Gun Group to the bend in the creek just there and wait till I give you the order to fire.”

Conscious of the watching officers Leroy complied, but with ill-grace. Capt Conkey tugged at his chin. “Hmmm. He's got a lot of ability that kid but his personality hinders his performance.”

Graham agreed. “He's a bloody pain sir. He's a real ‘know-all'. He destroys the teamwork every time by always battling with Cpl Davies over how things should be done. I think we have to do something to resolve the situation.”

Capt Conkey cocked an eyebrow. “Oh yes? What do you suggest?”

“Take Leroy out and swap him with another Lance Corporal,” Graham replied.

Lt Standish frowned. “Wouldn't that just shift the problem to another section rather than solve it?” she said.

“Not necessarily Miss. I reckon Corporal Brassington could handle Leroy. Besides, she has a problem with her own 2ic.”

“Oh! What sort of a problem?” Capt Conkey asked.

Graham described the ‘Love Chain'. Both officers chuckled. Capt Conkey rubbed his chin thoughtfully and said, “Hmmm. You could be right. Corporal Brassington's section should be next. We will see how they perform here.”

Cpl Davies' section launched its attack, re-orged and moved on up into the rubber vines. Cpl Brassington's section appeared. Barbara looked very cool and unfazed by being observed. She flashed Graham a smile and quickly organized her section. Graham also returned a smile from a red-faced but happy Margaret.