The Kicking Tree (White Gates Adventures Book 1)

by Trevor Stubbs

  Two hours later the driver from the first vehicle announced his vehicle should be able to continue. The broken spring had been replaced. The bodies were laid in the grave and the soldiers were formed up. The officer recited a prayer, which may or may not have been appropriate. Three soldiers were ordered to fire a volley into the air. And the graves were quickly filled in. The officer barked an order and the convoy got back under way, with Jack seated in the back of the lead vehicle, his backpack between his knees.

  The silence after the men and vehicles had moved off was almost deafening. Then Jalli could hear the life slowly coming back into the countryside. The insects and the birds, that had taken shelter from the cacophony of humanity, gradually came back into song. It is amazing, reflected Jalli, just how much most people miss of the life of the countryside by simply never stopping to listen.

  Jalli also reflected on the terrible ability of humanity to destroy – including other humans.

  She wondered just what people who made the bullets, bombs and landmines felt about their work. She could understand how people wanted to resist oppression, and seek to defend themselves and their “tribe” from ignominy. But what was it that got into the hearts of men that made it necessary for the family of her two new friends to plan and construct a hiding place like she found herself in now? She knew it was no better in Wanulka than here, and Jack had known immediately what was meant by a landmine, so Earth was no different. This same species was capable of such selfless giving as this family who were treating her as one of them, feeding them when they hadn’t enough for even themselves, and risking their own security in taking them in. What a weird race we are! mused Jalli.

  She wondered what had transpired in the house. Fifteen minutes after the noise of the soldiers had faded away Mrs. Somaf came into the toilet shed. “Girls,” she said. “You alright?”

  “We’re stuffy but fine,” said Tilly.

  “OK.” The crofter’s wife bent down and removed the panel. “Stay inside for a few more minutes until we’re sure no-one’s coming back over the ridge.” It was great to have a blast of fresh air. And the girls felt free to talk.

  “I really am sorry to have to squeeze in with you and make it so much more uncomfortable,” said Jalli.

  “That’s OK,” said Bonny, “we always hold onto one another, and last time it was so cold, but having you this time warmed it up nicely.” Jalli had had her arm around her much of the time.

  “It must be dreadful living like this with soldiers coming by, and mines, and not being able to grow food,” observed Jalli.

  “Or go to school,” added Bonny. “Tilly has had years more lessons than me.”

  “And I have had twelve uninterrupted years that I have just taken for granted,” said Jalli. “Some people hate going to school where I come from because they don’t like working.”

  “That was never the case here,” said Tilly. “We can see the advantage of education so clearly. When (or if) this war finishes people could still be going to school well into their twenties.”

  Mod came into the shed. “You can all go back into the house now Dad says. And be quick, I want a wee, and they wouldn’t let me come until you could come out!” The three girls did not need a second invitation.

  When Jalli got back to the croft she immediately looked for Jack to see if he was alright and to ask him what had happened. It was a horrid shock to find he had been taken away. For a few minutes she was very quiet and lost. She was frightened for him, and she missed him. Here she was now, without him in this very strange land. It had been easy to be brave with Jack. The pain of his absence was so acute that it was hard to understand. For the first time she could begin to feel what it must have felt like for Mrs. Somaf to have been parted from her sons – only, she quickly told herself, it must have been worse because Jack was not thirteen.

  “Is he their prisoner? Or do they expect him to fight for them like your sons?” she asked anxiously.

  “No, it appears he’s a handy first-aider, and they don’t trust he’s not a spy,” replied the crofter.

  “We’re so sorry,” sighed Mrs. Somaf. “You are our guests and we feel bad about it, but there was just nothing we could do.”

  “No,” assured Jalli, “I know you have absolutely no choice here. Things happen to you beyond your control. It’s just that it is something we’re not really used to, Jack and I. But we didn’t have to come here. Look, I don’t want to be in your way. I can go home.”

  “How can you do that on your own? Nobody, especially not a lone girl, should go around on their own here. And besides how can you leave without your boyfriend? He clearly means the world to you!” said the mother.

  “He does, and thank you… Jack was going to help with the planting today if the weather was good. I can do that.”

  “You could if we still had the seed tubers to plant,” responded the crofter. “But they’ve gone. As have three-quarters of the chickens, the calf we were hoping to fatten this summer, and the last of our cheeses! And it looks as if your boots are missing too, lass.”

  Where Jalli’s boots had been by the door there was now nothing more than a damp patch.

  “They didn’t get the cheese!” said his wife. “It’s been in the loft for the past week with the rest of the flour. I thought it was safer there!”

  “Clever girl!” exclaimed the crofter. “You’re a bright woman!”

  “Of course,” she replied.

  Jalli wanted to get dressed. She looked towards her bed. The bed and floor were covered in large clots of blood. It was horrible. They told her the soldier had died there. Jalli stood in silence. She wondered if he had a wife or girlfriend who was waiting for him to return. She went cold at the thought that the same could happen to her Jack. “Why do people do this to each other?” she cried.

  “Come on, let me clean up!” declared Tilly. Jalli moved to help her. “No. Not you, you’ve had too much to cope with already. Sit up the other end with the children.” Jalli did as she was bid, aware of the quiet children for the first time since she had come back into the croft. They took her into their arms, and in that tragic hour, she became like a sister to them. She gave comfort to them and they comforted her. Tilly and her mother took the pelt outside. Then they went under the beds to get the stuff out before they began swilling the floor.

  “Look at this! Your Jack’s a marvel!” declared Mrs. Somaf. “He’s stashed both your boots and our seed corms under his bed! You know, he showed such authority in taking charge of the dying man. He got us all organised. I reckon he can look after himself, and everybody else!” Jalli was proud of him. Tears flowed down her cheeks. He had only been her friend for a short time, but he was so good.

  “Great,” she said. “I know he can. And he’s given me no choice but to help get the corms planted out – whatever the weather!”

  “You don’t have to,” intervened the crofter.

  “Oh yes, I do,” said Jalli with determination. “I am beginning to understand about choice. If you want to be the kind of person that the Creator can rejoice in, you have to make the right kind of choices. If you want the universe to be a better place, you have to choose what the Creator has chosen for you. And He has led me to meet Jack and brought me here to this wonderful family. Now, as soon as I’m dressed, tell me what to do and I’ll get digging!”

  Mrs. Somaf could see immediately that activity was going to be the best thing for Jalli. And her husband and the rest would benefit from it too. “Right. That’s a good idea. But we all eat breakfast first. Pancakes. Tilly, wash your hands and get up to the loft for the flour and start cooking while I finish up here.” Her directions were obeyed without question.

  By mid-afternoon all the tubers were planted.

  *

  Meanwhile, Jack had quickly taken stock of the situation he found himself in. Most of the men were not there out of any conviction. It wasn’t that they believed they wanted to stay under the yoke of the westerners – but they clearly all thoug
ht the price was too high.

  What was keeping them going now was that they appeared to be winning. There had been a coup in the rich country that had kept the oppressive government in arms and money for the war. The enemy could no longer keep their planes in the air and there were no longer any spares for the most sophisticated weapons.

  Jack’s company had made good progress up the road, passing evidence that the enemy had quickly withdrawn. The sound of gunfire that had been up ahead had ceased some time ago. Rounding a bend the convoy encountered a number of enemy troops with their hands aloft waving white handkerchiefs! The leading vehicle screeched to a halt.

  “The war. It is over!” shouted an enemy officer. “Do not shoot! The government has been overthrown!”

  “Wait here!” commanded the officer in charge of the rebel force. He took two men and approached. After a while all the enemy soldiers, clearly unarmed, sat on the road under the direction of the two men. The rebel officer returned. “It appears,” he announced, “that the government army has overthrown the president and has joined us! At any rate these soldiers here are not offering any resistance.”

  Just at that moment a dispatch rider on a motorbike came up to the convoy from behind. He delivered a letter to the officer. “This confirms it, men,” he shouted, “the war is officially over!”

  This was met with cries of delight from the men. “Does this mean we can go home?” asked one.

  “Not yet. We have to return to barracks immediately.”

  As they were turning the trucks, the officer noticed Jack still sitting in the back of the lead truck with his backpack between his knees. “You can go!” he barked.

  “No!” said Jack. “You have left that crofting family without food, and without their children. You might be going home as victors, but what about them?”

  “You are a feisty character aren’t you? Get off with you!”

  “If you want me to report on the use of child soldiers in your war, or the way you just kidnap or abandon reporters at your whim, then dump me here. But I don’t think your leaders will thank you for it. I would guess that now that the military war is over they will be turning their attention to being seen as nice people! Do you want me to report that?”

  “You’re young for a reporter!”

  “But not for a soldier, it seems! Look, if you see that the crofter and his family are compensated for their contributions of food, and…” Jack stopped the officer from butting in, “their two boys are returned to them unharmed, I will report favourably on your regime, and commend you in particular.”

  “You know I don’t approve of children as soldiers.”

  “Exactly. Help me find these boys and I will see that you are favourably reported.”

  “So, you tell me, how am I to do that?”

  “Take me with you. Tell your people that I am looking to write an article on the caring they have for children and families disturbed during the conflict, and that if they could find just these two it would give me the anecdotes I need to give the report with that human touch our readers enjoy. I could be a good propaganda tool.

  “… and, in the meantime, send one of your vehicles back with the food the croft supplied you with. And take a message to Jalli that I will be back by and by.”

  “Jalli? Who’s Jalli?”

  “Oh, sorry… I mean Mr. Somaf, the crofter.” Jack was glad he wasn’t connected to a lie-detector! But fortunately, the officer didn’t seem to react to his gaff.

  “How long have you known this family?”

  “Not very long. Long enough to know Mr. Somaf’s family nickname.”

  “OK. What are you going to write about child soldiers?”

  “Nothing. If the Somaf boys are returned unharmed within the next two weeks.”

  “And you’ll report me favourably?”

  “You are an efficient, caring officer with a compassion for his men, and the people. A man who helped find two missing boys. I shall tell them the truth.”

  “It’s a good job I like you!” grinned the officer. He turned and barked over his shoulder, “Sergeant!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Take the third truck with your platoon back to the fork from which we have come to return the beef and chickens the croft supplied us with – we have no need of them now, and we, the victorious force, is a compassionate one! And tell them the reporter is going to travel on with us and will be back within two weeks. And… for God’s sake, keep off those bloody verges. We don’t want any more mine casualties.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “And then join us at the barracks… Well what are you waiting for?”

  “Sir!” The sergeant bustled away, organised the loading of the third truck with stuff they had taken from the croft, and directed the driver back down the way they had come. The officer ordered the enemy soldiers to get in the back of the lead truck with Jack. It was tight getting everyone in but, he announced, weren’t they compassionate victors!

  12

  Before it was dark they were driving into a compound containing the soldiers’ barracks in an eastern town of Tolfanland. Jack was put up in the officers’ quarters and enjoyed a good meal and a shower. After breakfast the following morning he was taken to the commanding officer and interviewed. He had noted that they had intended to treat him well and were using him, as he had intended, to be an agent of their propaganda. He assured them that he would report their kindness, and he meant it – but exactly how and where, he hadn’t a clue. Although he was clearly young, the authoritative way in which he spoke earned him the respect he needed, whilst his obvious ignorance of the whole situation made him unlikely to be any kind of spy. He amazed himself. It seemed that, given a mission, he was as adept as anyone. The fact that he was not known here seemed to give him added power. He knew that he couldn’t have done what he was doing here in Persham. (Wasn’t it a problem even Jesus had had? A prophet is not honoured in his own land etc.) The Owner of the white gates seemed to know more of what Jack was capable of than he himself, or anyone else for that matter.

  The commanding officer had been informed that he was on the Somafs’ case. He was assured that these boys would have been taken care of for their own protection as the croft had been in the front-line. (The “front-line bit” was clearly true – the mines were evidence of that. Jack was assured they were not laid by the rebels. Maybe true. Yet it would have surprised him if stuff hadn’t been laid by both sides in all sorts of places. The sad thing was that if the war was truly over for the present, these mines would probably still be claiming victims for years to come.) Jack expressed his gratitude and said all the right things about the way his investigation had been facilitated by the “very caring officer” whom he had first met, and he looked forward to being acquainted with the boys.

  In the meantime Jack was put into the care of a young officer, a lieutenant, who was clearly charged with saying all the right things, and Jack dutifully made notes on his pad as he was shown round the less sensitive parts of the barracks. Then it was lunchtime. The officers did not seem to lack food. In the afternoon Jack asked if he could go out into the town. He was granted permission so long as he was accompanied by the lieutenant.

  Jack was shocked by what he saw. The people were clearly doing their best with worn out clothes. There were long queues at the few market stalls that still had food to sell.

  “It’s the war,” explained the young officer, “difficult to get things. If you’ve got money though you can generally manage – and the army has to be fed first. We also generally get paid in the army, which is not the case for most people even if they have jobs.”

  “Is this going to change now the war is over?” asked Jack.

  “Hope so,” ventured the soldier. “There are so many of us in the army though, peace means it won’t be good news for some.”

  “What will you do if you leave the army?”

  “I hope it won’t come to that. Some people want to leave, but I don’t.”

>   The officer indicated a bar and they settled into a couple of chairs outside. “What’ll you drink?” asked the young officer.

  “I don’t know,” replied Jack. “I’ve not been out drinking stuff at home. I’ve kept myself to myself really.”

  “Have a beer!” He went into the bar and came back with two large frothing glasses.

  Jack smelled it, and had a sudden shock. He couldn’t understand it, but the smell of that beer frightened him. It resonated with something in the past – a long time ago. He felt anxious, and pictures of his mother distressed and angry seemed to emanate from the back of his mind. Could these long forgotten memories have something to do with his father? Could it be that beer and his father were strongly associated? This frightened him.

  “You alright?” the officer was looking at him in a puzzled way.

  “Oh… fine! Just remembered something from a long time ago.” Jack was contemplating what he was going to do with the beer when he became aware of a touch on his elbow. He turned and there was a child, silently begging for food. Then there was another.…

  “Don’t give them anything!” ordered the soldier gently. And turning toward the children, “Get on! Be off with you!” They persisted with Jack, but ran off when the officer got to his feet. “These street children can be a menace!”

  “Street children?”

  “Yes, kids that don’t have homes.”

  “Where are their parents then?”

  “Abandoned them mostly. Too many mouths to feed. Many of them never had fathers in any case.”

  “Why, what happened to them, the fathers? Killed in the war?”

  “Some of them. Mostly just not interested. You’re rather ignorant for a reporter, aren’t you? Soldiers on leave get sex wherever they can and then have no idea they have left a woman pregnant. Mostly they don’t even know the girl’s name. Isn’t it like that where you come from?”

  “We have not had a war in my country for generations. And orphaned kids are taken care of by the local authorities.”