‘Oh, no, not that story again!’ said Hanna, raising her eyebrows. ‘I’ve heard it a hundred times, Father.’
Hanna’s mother glared at her. ‘Hanna! Do not be disrespectful to your father.’
‘Sorry, Mother,’ Hanna responded with a sigh.
Everyone at the table leaned in to hear Dr Park’s story. ‘Long ago, in ancient times,’ he began, ‘a famous Korean general led his soldiers to fight a foreign army that had invaded our land. Unfortunately, our army was forced to retreat all the way up a hill. They were surrounded by the enemy below, who decided to wait and starve our soldiers into submission. It was a very hot summer, and both armies soon ran out of water. But the Korean general had plenty of rice for his men, and this gave him an idea. He had his cavalrymen bring their horses to the hilltop, where the enemy at the bottom of the hill could see them, and ordered the troopers to wash them.’
‘Wash them?’ Maddie poked her head up from where she was sitting on the grass. ‘But you said they’d run out of water.’
Dr Park smiled and nodded. ‘And so they had, my dear Maddie. So they had. Our general had his cavalry troopers pour buckets of rice over the horses’ backs and pretend to scrub them down. You see, from a distance, the pouring rice looked like water.’
‘I suppose it would,’ Nan Fulton remarked. ‘An optical illusion.’
‘Wow!’ Josh marvelled. ‘What a great trick.’
‘Then what happened, sir?’ Ben asked.
‘Well,’ said Dr Park, ‘the thirsty soldiers of the invading army said, “Our commanders told us that the Korean army had no more water than we do. But, look, the Koreans have so much water that they can waste it on washing their horses.” This caused a mutiny in the invading army, whose soldiers departed to find water. And they never returned. Our general won the war without spilling a single drop of blood.’
‘If only all wars could end as peacefully as that,’ said Nan.
‘Quite so, Mrs Fulton,’ agreed Mrs Park. ‘Quite so!’
‘I myself look for a peaceful solution to every conflict,’ said Secretary-General Park. ‘That is one of the roles of the United Nations, and to demonstrate this, we do not have an army of our own.’ As he spoke, his secretary, a portly Englishman named Jeremy Brown, arrived on the scene. After apologising for the interruption, he bent down and whispered in Dr Park’s ear.
‘Ah, you must excuse me,’ Dr Park said to the Fultons. ‘Your Governor-General wishes us to attend to other matters. It has been a great pleasure to meet you all.’
Dr and Mrs Park bade the Fultons farewell, taking the precocious Hanna with them. Shadowed by Liberty Lee, they followed Jeremy Brown toward the house. As they went, Hanna turned back to Josh and mimed typing on a keyboard. Josh smiled and nodded vigorously.
‘Josh, what was all that about?’ Nan asked.
‘Nothing, Nan,’ Josh answered. ‘Hanna and I are going to email each other, that’s all.’
‘How lovely,’ said Nan, clearly delighted. ‘I had a penfriend when I was a girl. I think Hanna would make a lovely friend for you.’
Josh wasn’t so sure about that. Hanna was the daughter of one of the most important people in the world. He reckoned she would have heaps of equally clever friends, and he doubted that he’d hear from her.
Ben, in the meantime, was about to take another bite of his sandwich when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Looking around, he broke into a smile of recognition. ‘Amanda!’
‘Hello, stranger,’ said a beaming blonde, putting her hands on Ben’s broad shoulders.
‘Fancy seeing you here,’ said Ben. Amanda Ritchie was the newspaper reporter who had helped Ben and his family in the search for Caesar when he was lost in Afghanistan.
‘I didn’t see your name on the guest list, Ben,’ she said.
‘We were last-minute additions,’ explained Ben. ‘Amanda, you’ve met my mother, Josh and Maddie before. And, of course, Caesar.’
‘Hello there, everyone,’ said Amanda. ‘And hello, Caesar.’ She gave Caesar an affectionate pat, and his tail wagged.
‘Please join us, dear,’ said Nan, offering the chair beside her.
‘Thank you, I will,’ said Amanda, taking a seat.
‘You’re the reporter who helped us find Caesar, aren’t you?’ said Josh.
‘Oh, I only did what I could,’ Amanda said humbly. ‘You helped your dad a great deal, too.’
Josh nodded proudly.
‘I did too!’ Maddie spoke up. ‘Josh and me, we were doggie detectives. Weren’t we, Daddy?’
‘You sure were, Princess,’ Ben agreed.
Amanda smiled. ‘Sounds like Maddie is a big help to you, Ben,’ she said.
Ben grinned. ‘Oh, yes. Maddie’s got a very active and detailed imagination. She takes after her mother that way. You know, Maddie’s already worked out that she’s going to have seven children one day.’
Amanda chuckled. ‘Seven? Really?’
‘Yes,’ said Maddie. ‘And I’m going to name them after the days of the week – Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.’ Most of the adults at the table laughed at this. ‘That way,’ Maddie continued seriously, ‘it doesn’t matter whether they’re boys or girls.’ It made perfect sense to her.
‘Maddie has plans for her seven children to move in with Josh, Nan and myself,’ Ben told Amanda, giving her a wry smile.
‘Is that right?’ said Amanda, highly amused. ‘Where will they all fit, Maddie?’
‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Maddie replied. ‘Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday can sleep in my room with me, on double bunks. And we can turn the garage into an extra bedroom for Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday.’
‘But what about your husband?’ asked Amanda. ‘Where would he sleep?’
‘Oh, he can visit sometimes,’ Maddie returned. Again, the adults laughed, though Maddie had no idea why.
‘You’ve been to Afghanistan, haven’t you, Amanda?’ said Josh, joining in the conversation. ‘Like my dad and Caesar.’
Amanda nodded. ‘I have. Yes, Josh.’
‘So, it’s not such a scary place, if girls are allowed to go there?’ Ben had recently told Josh there was a possibility that he and Caesar would be sent back to Afghanistan on military operations. The fact that his father had been wounded and Caesar had gone missing the last time they were in Afghanistan had been playing on Josh’s mind ever since.
Amanda was astute enough to realise this and carefully framed her answer. ‘You know, Josh, much of Afghanistan is perfectly safe. And most of the people are really lovely. And, one day, with the help of men like your father, there will be no war in that country at all.’
Josh gave Amanda a weak smile. ‘Yeah, I guess.’
‘Oh, more food!’ Nan exclaimed, as waiters in smart uniforms brought around barbecued snacks.
‘Compliments of the Governor-General,’ announced a waiter, as he placed a large raw bone in front of Caesar.
Caesar picked up the bone, lay down at Ben’s feet with the bone between his paws and gnawed contentedly away at it, his tail wagging.
Amanda turned to Ben. ‘What did you think of the secretary-general?’ she asked.
‘He seems very wise and full of charm,’ Ben replied.
‘His wife is lovely,’ added Nan. ‘And you liked their daughter, Hanna, too, didn’t you, Josh?’
‘I guess,’ Josh said with a shrug. ‘What’s Mensa, Nan?’
‘Mensa is an international society whose members are really bright,’ Nan replied. ‘They all have very high IQs. Why do you ask?’
Josh shrugged. ‘No reason.’ So, now he knew that Hanna was really smart. That was daunting.
‘Caesar liked the secarty-general, too,’ said Maddie, climbing onto Ben’s lap.
‘It’s a pity Dr Park and his family couldn’t spend longer in Australia,’ said Nan. ‘They could have come down to visit us at Holsworthy.’
‘I don’t think so, Nan,’ said Josh with a laugh. ‘The
y’ve got more important things to do.’
Ben nodded. ‘By this time tomorrow, the secretary-general will probably be in one world trouble spot or another, trying to convince people to settle their differences without going to war.’
‘And this time tomorrow we’ll be back at our routine jobs,’ said Amanda. ‘You’ve got to admit that Dr Park’s job is exciting.’
‘Yes, but dangerous,’ said Ben.
‘No more dangerous than yours, dear,’ Nan said pointedly, then regretted saying so in front of the children.
Ben looked at his watch. ‘Caesar and I will have to leave soon,’ he said with a sigh. ‘We have to be back at base by 2000 hours. We have a training exercise starting at 0500 tomorrow.’
Ben had no idea that before long his job would link him once again with Dr Park. Only next time, the secretary-general’s life would genuinely be in his hands.
‘Yo, Dog Boy!’
Josh’s heart sank. Kelvin Corbett, a boy at his school, was a misfit. Repeating a year, he was older, taller and heavier than anyone else in their class. When Kelvin got something wrong or was told off by a teacher, he would get extremely angry and take it out on his classmates. For a while now, Kelvin had been harassing Josh on the walk home and sending Josh emails calling him names.
‘Want some dog food, Dog Boy?’ Kelvin taunted him. ‘I’ve got a can in my bag if you’re hungry.’
Josh had a pretty good idea what this was all about. When Caesar was in the media after word spread of his adventures in Afghanistan, Josh and Maddie had been minor celebrities at school for a while. Though their celebrity status had faded, Kelvin hadn’t forgotten how everyone had wanted to talk to Josh about Caesar.
Walking faster, Josh tried to ignore him, playing games on his phone as he went. But he could hear Kelvin’s shuffling tread behind him. Kelvin was speeding up. Bit by bit, Kelvin caught up with Josh until he was walking just a pace behind.
‘Come on, Dog Boy, do some tricks for me,’ Kelvin sneered. ‘Roll over! Fetch!’
Just a block away from Kokoda Crescent, Josh resisted the urge to run home.
‘Hey, I’m talking to you.’ Kelvin kicked the bottom of Josh’s backpack.
Josh flinched but kept walking.
‘Come on, Dog Boy, show me what you’re made of!’ Kelvin kicked Josh’s backpack again. When Josh still didn’t react, Kelvin kicked the backpack a third time. ‘Come on, Dog Boy! Or are you a coward?’
Josh had had enough. Slipping his mobile phone into a trouser pocket, he tensed, preparing to spin around and confront Kelvin the next time he kicked his backpack. Josh waited to feel the bully’s boot connect. But the kick never came. When he finally reached the corner, Josh stopped and looked back. There was no sign of Kelvin.
When Josh arrived home, he found Maddie running around the house with an Australian flag on a stick.
‘What’s going on?’ Josh asked, dropping his backpack in the hall.
‘Charlie’s coming for the weekend,’ Maddie answered gleefully, zooming past him with the flag Charlie had given her a while back. ‘Yayyyy!’
‘Cool!’ Josh raced to his room, thinking about which computer games he’d challenge Charlie to play. All thoughts of Kelvin the bully quickly faded away.
Sure enough, Ben arrived home with Charlie and Caesar, just in time for dinner. But to Josh’s surprise, Charlie was back in a wheelchair.
‘How come you’re in a wheelchair again?’ Josh asked, as Charlie wheeled himself into the living room.
‘Yeah. You said you would never need that again, Charlie,’ said Maddie, sounding disappointed. ‘Where are your prophetic legs?’
‘Prosthetic legs, Maddie,’ Nan corrected her with a chuckle. ‘Not “prophetic” legs.’
Maddie frowned. ‘What’s a prophetic leg, then?’
‘That’s a leg that can tell the future,’ said Josh, ‘except there’s no such thing.’
‘Oh.’
‘My left prosthetic leg has gone back to the manufacturer for repairs,’ Charlie explained. ‘The knee joint seized up when I was in the middle of the bush.’
‘That’s not very good,’ said Maddie.
‘No, it’s not, Maddie,’ Charlie agreed glumly. ‘And it means I can’t go back on SAS operations.’
‘It was a big blow to Charlie’s plans,’ said Ben, as he and the children took their seats at the dining table.
Caesar trotted in with one of Ben’s slippers in his mouth, which he dropped beside Charlie.
Charlie laughed. ‘No, Caesar, mate, I can’t throw the slipper for you to chase. It’s dinnertime.’ He winked at Maddie. ‘We used to play “chase the slipper” before dinner.’ Pulling Caesar’s head onto his lap, he gave the labrador a vigorous pat.
‘Under the table, Caesar,’ Ben commanded, and Caesar quickly complied, settling at Ben’s feet.
‘You should get blades instead, Charlie,’ Josh sug- gested. ‘You know, the kind the paralympians use.’
‘But they don’t look like real legs,’ Maddie spoke up.
‘They don’t have to look like real legs,’ said Charlie, ‘just work like real legs.’
‘Those guys with blades can run at a zillion miles an hour,’ Josh declared.
‘Are blades worth considering, Charlie?’ asked Ben.
‘Mate, anything is worth considering at this point.’ Charlie turned back to Josh. ‘Who makes blades, Josh?’
‘I’m not sure, but it’ll be easy to find out,’ Josh said. Jumping up from his seat, he ran to fetch his laptop.
Josh returned and cleared a space on the dining table. As the others gathered around, Nan arrived with a steaming casserole dish in her gloved hands.
‘What’s going on here?’ she demanded. ‘My beef casserole is ready to eat.’
‘Very important business, Nan,’ answered Josh, his eyes focused on the screen in front of him.
‘More important even than eating,’ added Maddie. ‘We have to find new legs for Charlie.’
Nan let out an exasperated sound, then looked at Ben.
‘Slip it back in the oven, Mum?’ Ben suggested. ‘Let the kids help Charlie. It won’t take long.’
‘Ten minutes, no more,’ Nan declared, turning on her heel and marching back to the kitchen.
Josh, meanwhile, had discovered a website for a Sydney company called Ozzie Prosthetics. It sold Zoomers, and a photograph depicted them as slender, curved black running blades that looked a little like snow skis. A well-known Australian athlete who had won gold at the most recent Paralympics was pictured wearing them.
Charlie had manoeuvred his wheelchair beside Josh’s seat, and was looking intently at the laptop screen. ‘I wonder how they work in mud,’ he murmured, half to himself.
‘Whoa, look at the price,’ Josh said in alarm.
‘Money isn’t a big issue for me, Josh,’ Charlie said thoughtfully. ‘I’ve got plenty saved up.’
‘So, you’re seriously considering these blade things, Charlie?’ Nan asked when she rejoined them with the hot casserole dish.
He looked up at her with a solemn expression. ‘Nan, if these Zoomers can get me back on operations, I’ll be the happiest man alive. To me, right now, mobility is as important as the ability to breathe.’
Charlie stood looking at himself in the full-length mirror. This was weird, he thought, but exciting. He was wearing Zoomer blades on his legs, while a short, stubby red-headed man stood beside him, smiling approvingly. A badge on the man’s shirt read ‘Ozzie Prosthetics’.
‘They’re so light,’ Charlie marvelled, grinning like a boy who had just received his first bike. ‘I can’t even feel them.’
‘That’s carbon fibre for you,’ said the man, the boss of Ozzie Prosthetics. ‘Light but super strong.’
‘They’re so much better than my old prosthetics, Mr Breen. They don’t look like legs but if they can perform like legs …’
‘They will outperform your old legs, that I can guarantee. Think of your old prosthe
tics as the first Ford Model A, Sergeant Grover. This is the Rolls Royce of the prosthetic leg. The very latest model. The most advanced in the world.’ Mr Breen bent down and tapped Charlie’s left Zoomer. ‘That knee joint is made from titanium. It contains a microprocessor that is so advanced, it thinks faster than the human brain.’
‘Wow! How much for a pair of these?’
‘To custom-make a set exactly to your requirements? Twelve thousand dollars.’
‘Twelve thousand?’ Charlie ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. ‘For one pair?’
‘It’s the left leg – with the knee joint and microprocessor, it bumps up the cost.’
Charlie nodded. ‘I’ll have them. Make me two pairs, please.’
Mr Breen smiled. ‘It will be our pleasure, Sergeant. As you’re our first customer with a Victoria Cross medal, we’ll move you to the top of the waiting list. Once we have taken your measurements, we can have a set ready for you to try out in a week’s time.’
‘Just one week?’ Charlie exclaimed. ‘You beauty!’
‘The manufacturing process is computer-controlled and laser-guided. It provides perfect precision and is super-quick.’ Mr Breen grinned. ‘After all, speed is what these Zoomers are all about.’
Standing tall in the living room of 3 Kokoda Crescent, Charlie looked like his old self in army uniform, his sandy-coloured SAS Regiment beret sitting at a jaunty angle. It was right after breakfast on a Saturday morning, just days after Charlie took delivery of his new blades. These Zoomers, attached to military boots, were undetectable beneath his khaki trousers.
As the Fulton family clustered around to bid him farewell, Caesar, sitting beside Ben, looked sad. Like many dogs, Caesar had a sixth sense; he knew that his friend Charlie was going away. Charlie had been ordered to take up an administrative job at SAS headquarters at Campbell Barracks in Perth, Western Australia.
Charlie was happy to do so for now. Major General Jones had reluctantly agreed to let him attempt the next SAS selection course, but emphasised that this would be Charlie’s absolute final chance. Charlie had agreed that, should he fail the course this time, he would never again talk about going into the field on active service and would buckle down to working behind the scenes at SAS headquarters, putting his experience to use planning missions that would be carried out by other SAS operators. But Charlie was confident that, in his new Zoomers, he’d pass the course and be permitted back on ops.
Caesar the War Dog 2 Page 4