Dawn of the Tiger

by Gus Frazer

  What an arsehole, Finn thought.

  The men were now bantering between themselves and filing out of the tent, leaving it looking tidy and orderly. Finn followed them out and joined the line. All the way down the row of at least 100 tents, men were standing at attention.

  Higgins was at the front taking orders from a lieutenant. Afterwards, he turned and faced the men of Finn’s squad and relayed the orders, which consisted of the day’s training program.

  At first, Finn thought it strange that he had been placed in a squad of men who seemed to already be well into their training. It didn’t make any sense to Finn, but there didn’t seem any sense in complaining — he was simply expected to learn it quicker and make up for what he had missed. It was in fact a tactic used by the army in order to fast-track the training of new recruits who had previous military training and demonstrated the right qualities and abilities. Finn ticked all these boxes. His reserve training and the fact he had aced his aptitude and physical entry tests made him the perfect recruit to the new Australian army.

  So began three months of hell. The training from day one was gruelling, a mixture of barbaric exercises and training runs, weapons training, hand-to-hand combat, communications, IT warfare, bush survival, and basic interrogation.

  It took several days for the other men to let Finn into their group. He made the breakthrough during a particularly tough training run along a muddy trail. Higgins was leading the men and Finn was behind him. Finn had always been a naturally good distance runner and didn’t mind the long runs they were subjected to every day. At one point on the trail a fallen tree had to be used to cross a shallow, muddy gully. Higgins leapt onto the fallen tree trunk, with his arms stretched wide to help keep his balance. He started to move quickly across the trunk. Finn was only a second or two behind, looking down at the trunk about two metres ahead to help him stay focussed.

  Dead in the middle of the trunk a movement in front of him caught Finn’s eye. Higgins had spun around to face Finn and was looking menacingly back at him. Finn watched as Higgins unhooked his rucksack and threw it back on the opposite bank, not once taking his eyes off Finn. The others in the squad knew what was coming and stayed off the trunk, grinning and nudging each other with glee.

  Finn followed suit and unclipped his rucksack, fumbling with the clips and nearly losing his balance. His nerves suddenly raw, he felt certain his heart would burst through his chest at any moment.

  ‘Come on then, Hunt. Remember your reserves training? Speed and aggression,’ snarled Higgins.

  Speed and aggression — how many times had that been drilled into him as a young reservist? he wondered. They were the two things every soldier is taught first and it sums up how a soldier should react to every situation in the field — though Finn wasn’t convinced it was always the best response.

  Not saying a word, Finn concentrated on Higgins. Getting his left foot forward he pointed it at Higgins, his right foot back, his body crouching low, centred and ready.

  Higgins was quick for a big man. He shuffled his feet quickly forward, jabbing his right fist at Finn, who instinctively moved back fast and into the arms of the other men, who pushed him back out on the trunk.

  The yelling and cheering intensified. The others were like a pack of wild dogs with a blood lust. Taking a quick look down at the gully below, Finn decided that landing down there was not going to be a good outcome.

  Finn knew he didn’t have a chance if he let Higgins come at him like that again, so he decided to employ the age-old wisdom that the best defence is a good offence. Moving out slowly, Finn waited until the exact split-second before he thought Higgins would attack. Rather than launching his upper body at him — which would undoubtedly have landed them both on the gully floor — Finn dropped his torso down and backwards while kicking out his leg, swiping at Higgins’ shin. It was enough to surprise Higgins, catching him off guard and sending him off the trunk and into the muddy gully.

  Finn ended up straddling the trunk, having lost his balance with his kick. The others were laughing themselves stupid. In the mud, Higgins was trying to catch his breath, the fall having knocked the wind out of his lungs. Covered in mud, he finally got to his feet and was forced to smile and congratulate Finn. ‘You got lucky, Hunt. Don’t let it go to your head. That won’t happen again.’

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Finn, forcing himself to control his face and get the smirk off it.

  McCaw, a huge guy nearly as scary and experienced as Higgins, and so taciturn Finn had never even heard him speak, helped Finn up. ‘Good job, recruit,’ he said, slapping Finn on the back.

  About halfway through their training, Finn and the other squadies were opening large metal weapons cases in one of the vast munitions tents. The tents were enormous, covering four football fields’ worth of space. They were air-conditioned, had solid flooring and bright lighting.

  Pulling out a black assault rifle, Finn admired the feel of the weapon. It was big and solid in his hands, but incredibly light.

  ‘What are these all about?’ he asked the others.

  ‘Dude, these are Archer RG-25s, outrageous killing machines,’ said Carver, a young recruit who had been in training when the Chinese invaded but had not been sent out to fight.

  ‘RG stands for Rail Gun. These guys are electromagnetic. They fire a kinetic 4.5 mm ball bearing munition at a muzzle velocity of 3500 metres per second, and all this with no recoil,’ said Marks, a veteran with 10 years of military experience. He’d been injured in the initial fight with the Chinese, but was back to full fighting strength now, after his training with the squad. Finn got the sense that, while Marks was not exactly a genius, he was strong, observant and focussed — the kind of guy you’d be glad to have watching your back.

  ‘And when things get really hairy, you can lob a grenade in over the line with this.’ Jessop flipped his RG-25 on its side to show Finn the launcher. Jessop had only been in training a few weeks longer than Finn, but he was a farm boy who’d grown up with a gun by his side — he had an uncanny sense for them.

  ‘Do we get these?’ asked Finn.

  At that moment Higgins walked into the room. ‘Are you pussies still unloading this lot? Get a fucking move on. Hunt, quit masturbating that RG and get it unloaded.’

  ‘Yessir,’ snapped Finn, quickly focussing on unloading the case.

  Higgins went back outside and started barking orders at some other poor bastards.

  ‘So how the hell do we get these things? I figured we’d be firing some old M-21s,’ said Finn.

  ‘Hunt, you are so green it’s not funny. Who do you think has lost the most here? And who has the most to gain by getting the Chinese out?’ asked Carver.

  ‘Everyone in Australia,’ replied Finn.

  ‘Bullshit. The people who have lost the most are the mining companies. They also have the most to gain by kicking the Chinks out,’ Jessop piped up, enjoying not being the greenest guy around anymore.

  ‘What, so the mining companies are bankrolling us?’ asked Finn.

  ‘Damn right. Right down to the army-issue boxer shorts you’re wearing there.’

  ‘Fuck me,’ said Finn to himself.

  It hadn’t occurred to Finn that the huge mining companies, like IXR and BHR, were funding all of this. Many of the smaller Australian mining companies had gone bankrupt as soon as China stepped foot in Australia. Most of the other larger companies had come very close, but had managed to hold on, relying on their diversified overseas holdings to see them through.

  The big mining companies also had their own private armies. It was a trend that started early in the century, in the Middle East. The companies knew all too well the volatile nature of mining in countries that have so much poverty. Though they couldn’t afford to pull their corporate armies out of the Middle East and North America, they could afford to fund and arm Australia’s new army. It was so obviously in their interests that Finn felt stupid for not realising it sooner.

  The days became
a blur of intense physical training, mental discipline, eating and sleeping. While Finn knew that technically he would be in for training for three months, it felt like he had no idea how long he had been in training for — it could have been a month, it could have been six. The training was designed to educate them on specific skills required for the sorts of missions they were likely to conduct. They were effectively being trained to be the best terrorists in the world, to learn and apply the principles of terrorism and guerrilla warfare for the most devastating effect.

  Through the training process Finn’s mind was rewired by the drill instructors, by Higgins, by the constant haranguing and abuse. Mindlessly repeating drill after drill after drill, exercise after exercise. There was no defined point at which he noticed a change in himself — it was a far more organic process that evolved over the three months of training. It wasn’t until the end of their training that he realised how much he had changed. Physically, he was fitter and stronger than he had ever been.

  His training had been extensive and beyond what was normally asked of new recruits. The war that would be fought over Australia would be like none the world had seen. The soldiers that fought the war would be like none the world had seen. Finn now had a confidence that he had never had before, a feeling that no matter what situation he was presented with, he could deal with it. He had always been an outwardly confident person but he now realised that it had been based on very little substance. He could see it now — he could see what a boy he had been before the training, how naive he had been.

  The confidence he had now made him feel invincible and it felt good, but there was also a level of aggression he’d never had before. He wanted to test himself, to put what he had learnt into practice. He didn’t really care about who they were or where, he just wanted to do what he had been trained to do — to be aggressive, to act quickly, to use his body and his senses more than his head. He wanted to fight.

  Chapter 8

  Sitting on the train back to Sydney felt good; the rhythmic motion, the forward movement and the warmth from the sun lulled Finn. With the initial training over, he and the others had two weeks’ leave. Finn felt apprehensive but excited to see his mates again and to let go for a while. He realised after he walked out of the camp that the entire time he had been in training he was on edge, constantly alert and never really able to relax.

  Arriving at Central Station, it was warm, the cloudless blue sky felt immense and open, and the air smelled of rainwater being evaporated off the ground by the hot sun. It was strange to have so many people around him, all going about their usual activities. It all seemed so foreign to him now — wearing a suit, walking to an office, sitting at a desk — he couldn’t imagine ever doing any of that again.

  Finn decided that he wasn’t ready to see his parents yet. After the way his father had reacted to him joining the army, he couldn’t face repeating that argument. He also knew that on a certain, immature level, he wanted to punish his dad for not saying goodbye.

  Chris’s parents were welcoming and had told Finn he could stay with them for as long as he wanted. With that organised, all Finn could think about was seeing Sophie again. It had been three months and, although they emailed constantly in the first few weeks, it had eventually whittled away to nothing.

  Finn took a taxi to Chris’s parents’ home in the exclusive Sydney suburb of Rose Bay. Paying the cabbie, Finn heaved his army-issue rucksack over his shoulder and headed through the gate to the front door.

  ‘Come here, boy,’ yelled Chris with a big goofy grin as he pulled Finn in for a hug. ‘Not too tough for a hug now, fella?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah …’ said Finn, returning the hug with a resigned grin.

  ‘Mate, three months with a bunch of soldier boys. I bet you got a lot of practice hugging blokes, didn’t ya?’ Chris laughed at his own joke, as he was prone to do.

  ‘Seriously mate, I’m a weapon now, so don’t test me,’ Finn said in the most serious tone he could muster.

  ‘Yeah right, you just look like a meat-head to me,’ replied Chris, laughing and pointing at his buzzed head. ‘C’mon, drop your gear and let’s head up to the Lord Dudley for a few beers. I’ve arranged to meet some of the guys at the Grand National later. Everyone wants to hear about your toy guns.’

  That night, Finn felt relaxed, physically, but his friends noticed something different about him. He’d always had a bit of a scowl on his face when it was in repose, but they knew it didn’t have anything to do with his personality. Now, though, the scowl seemed more meaningful. He was definitely more watchful, more alert than he used to be — and somehow much more physically imposing, even though he hadn’t bulked up all that much. But they didn’t let this new Finn get in the way of a good time — every time they got together they ripped shreds off each other and laughed themselves stupid in the process. Finn enjoyed the night out, but as they talked shit about their mortgages and their cars, Finn couldn’t help but feel like his friends’ lives were easy and trivial. He himself had been doing the same thing not three months before, but now he felt unimaginably distant from that world.

  The one part of that world that seemed to have the same effect on him as before was Sophie. The whole time, Finn couldn’t stop thinking about Sophie and wondering if she was out that night. Afterwards, walking back to Chris’s parents’ place he considered sending her an IT. How uncool though, firing off a drunken message at two in the morning. No way, he thought to himself. Have some class.

  The next day he got up early and left before Chris and his parents were up. Finn wanted to get down to Bondi and surprise Sophie. He couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

  Taking the packed 389 bus from Bondi Junction down to the beach and getting off on Hall Street, he started walking down towards the café. If there was one place in Australia that was oblivious to the Chinese invasion, it was Bondi. Same mix of bohemian cruisers getting by on the fumes of money, side-by-side with the mega-wealthy. Often it was hard to tell them apart, the rich dressed to look urban and rough to blend in, the rest dressed to stand out and be seen. Somehow, they all ended up looking the same. Finn wondered if any of them even realised that the Chinese had invaded, let alone cared. Unlikely, he thought.

  He thought again about how he would walk in — with a cool, calm, collected look, he’d just stand and say nothing until she saw him. Or perhaps he would burst in and yell her name, Rocky Balboa–style; or maybe a witty one-liner?

  ‘Shit,’ he cursed. What’s something witty? Witty, witty, witty … fuck — nothing came to mind. No, it wouldn’t be the witty line approach. Ten metres to go. Fuck it, just walk in and see what happens, he figured.

  Stepping in, the café was busy. He looked behind the counter and saw three girls serving, but no sign of Sophie.

  ‘Excuse me, is Sophie working today?’ he politely asked one of the girls.

  ‘Soph? No, sorry mate, she’s gone back to England, I think,’ replied the girl. ‘Hey, Georgie. Soph went back to England, didn’t she?’ the girl yelled to another out the back.

  ‘Yep, she would have flown out about a month ago,’ came the reply.

  Finn was immediately and obviously deflated.

  ‘Sorry, mate. I think she had some family problems. Can I get you anything?’

  ‘Um, yeah, guess I’ll have a flat white, thanks,’ replied Finn glumly.

  When he left, he turned towards the beach and started walking. Fuck it, he thought, resigning himself to the coastal track to Bronte Beach. It had lost a few millimetres of width with the rising water levels as the polar ice caps melted, but it was still a stunning walk and, with a spot of people-watching, he figured Sophie would be off his mind in no time. Finn told himself to apply some of the mental discipline he’d acquired and harden the fuck up.

  The following day Finn called his mother.

  ‘Hello,’ came the familiar voice.

  ‘Hi, Mum. It’s me,’ said Finn.

  ‘Oh darling, how are you?’ her voice
lilted, immediately animated. ‘It’s so good to hear from you. Where are you?’

  ‘I’ve got a few weeks’ leave and I’m in Sydney, staying at Chris’s place.’

  ‘You must come home, we have to see you —’

  ‘Mum,’ Finn interrupted, ‘I don’t want to come home if Dad is still upset.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about your dad, Finn. I’ve properly sorted him out after his little performance when you left.’ She sounded satisfied with her work — when it came to her and Tom, she usually won when she decided to take a stand on something.

  ‘Are you sure, Mum? I don’t want to fight with him anymore and I haven’t changed my mind about what I’m doing.’

  ‘I know darling, and your dad is okay with it now.’

  ‘Cool. Well I’ll come up this afternoon. Think I’ll stay at Chris’s tonight though if that’s okay. Just want to see how Dad and I get along first. Is that cool?’

  ‘Of course, Finn. You just get up here straight away.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you soon. Bye.’

  ‘All right, darling. See you soon,’ said Sonia. And with that Finn hung up.

  That afternoon, Chris lent Finn his car so he could get up to his parents’ home. Pulling into the driveway he felt nervousness combined with a sudden pang of homesickness.

  As he was parking in the driveway, Sonia came out the front door followed by Tom. ‘Finn!’ she yelled. ‘Come here, my boy.’ With her arms stretched wide, her caftan making her look almost as though she had bat wings, she pulled him in for a hug, squeezing him tightly.

  ‘I’ve missed you so much, young man. Look at you! You look so fit and healthy — except for that haircut.’ She wrinkled her nose with distaste.

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Finn replied, smiling like a teenager.