The Cadet Corporal

by Christopher Cummings

  As Graham began applying his own camouflage cream to his face a group of cadets came along the river bed and reported to CUO Masters.

  Graham glanced up and saw that they were the ‘attached’ personnel from HQ Platoon: two medics and two signallers. But when he saw who were being sent to his section his heart plummeted in dismay. The signaller was Cadet Carnes, and the medic was ‘Slim’ Lyle, so called because he was big and fat.

  ‘Oh bloody hell!’ he groaned. ‘What have I done to deserve this pair of slugs?’

  That opinion he instantly revised. ‘No, Slim is Ok,’ he told himself. Slim just looked like a big, docile child. He had a baby face and was thought to be a ‘bit of a sook’. His face split into a friendly grin as he approached and Graham could not help smiling back and returning his cheerful grin. Carnes on the other hand just looked miserable and said nothing. He dumped the army radio on the sand and slumped down next to it.

  ‘More rejects!’ Graham thought unhappily. He studied Carnes’ face and then had an idea. ‘He was on two patrols with Pete. Maybe he isn’t as bad as he looks. I’ll ask Pete.’

  Seeing that he still had 15 minutes before they were due to move Graham went in search of Peter. He found him swinging on his webbing, preparatory to moving over to join 4 Platoon. Peter was grinning happily and was clearly enjoying himself and looking forward to the exercise.

  Graham was so miserable and down that he was sorely tempted to unburden his sorrows to his friend but instead he managed a smile and said, “I’ve been give Carnes as my sig. Who decided that?”

  “He asked to go to your section,” Peter replied.

  That was a surprise and it must have showed. Graham shook his head and said, “You had him in your patrol. What’s he like?”

  Peter looked thoughtful, then answered, “Most of the time he is no trouble. He just mopes along, and he does what you tell him without argument. But he is a real loner and keeps to himself.”

  “Is he a good sig?”

  Peter made a face. “No. Poor to average.”

  “So he didn’t give you any problems, even at night?” Graham asked anxiously.

  “Well, not really,” Peter replied. For a moment he looked thoughtful again, then said, “There was just one incident. At the rail bridge.” “What did he do?” Graham asked.

  “Something quite odd,” Peter replied. “We spent half a day studying the rail bridge from a hide a few hundred metres away. We couldn’t go closer because the officers from Heatley and St Michaels were there planning their defence. So we waited till the middle of the night before crossing the bed of the river under the bridge. It was about three in the morning and I stopped the patrol while I measured the circumference of one of the concrete pylons. It was weird.”

  Peter paused and Graham felt a distinct sense of apprehension. “In what way?” he asked.

  “When I finished I found Carnes just standing there, staring up at the bridge. You could see it clearly enough in the starlight. I spoke to him but he didn’t move, just kept staring up as though he hadn’t heard me,” Peter explained.

  Graham shivered. “What happened?”

  Peter shrugged. “I spoke to him again and he just looked at me, then seemed to snap out of a trance. After that he just followed along with no problems.”

  “Oh bugger! Is he an epileptic or something?” Graham asked.

  “Don’t know. You’d have to ask the officers that,” Peter said.

  A call from CUO Grey ended the conversation. Peter put out his hand and patted Graham’s sleeve. “Don’t worry. You will manage. He must like you. Anyway, I gotta go. Have fun! See you later.”

  Not at all reassured Graham hurried back to where 2 Platoon was now pulling on webbing and preparing to move. There was no time for any further discussions so Graham swung on his own webbing and did it up, then ordered the section to line up. Most of them did this readily enough but ‘The Four’ made it plain by their deliberately slow moves that they weren’t going to just roll over and give up.

  As he walked along the line checking they were all there and ready to go Graham felt his stomach churn with anxiety. The looks in the eyes of The Four told him that they were sure to give trouble the moment there was no CUO or sergeant around. The thought of miserable failure reduced Graham to near panic and he wondered how he could possibly get out of the situation.

  No escape offered itself and his hopes were ended by CSM Cleland giving the signal to move. Graham gulped and felt the bile rise in his throat to sour the moment. The Hutchie Men filed off behind the CSM, then 4 Platoon. As Peter went past he gave Graham a ‘thumbs up’ and Graham managed a ‘good luck’ in return.

  “We don’t need it,” Peter quipped, “We depend on skill!”

  Graham snorted and had to smile. Then CUO Masters tacked on behind 4 Platoon, followed by his attached signaller, Cadet James. Graham had no option but to start walking behind James. By now he was feeling so agitated that it seemed he could not contain his restlessness. He had to force himself to think about something else so as not to break into fits of trembling or tears.

  Graham glanced anxiously back along the line, partly to check that the section really was following, but also to get a glimpse of Kristy. He did, but she looked a long way back and he wasn’t sure if she had seen him. For a few seconds his feelings were pushed aside by the impression of sheer military purpose in the long line of camouflaged cadets snaking along under the trees. ‘That looks really good!’ he thought.

  For a few minutes he recaptured the old thrill and excitement that he had experienced on previous exercises. It had begun! They were on their way! The elite paratroop raiders about to strike!

  CSM Cleland led them along under the overhanging trees until they came out into the open, sandy bed of the Canning just near where it joined the Bunyip. After that they clambered from rock to rock to get across the narrow strip of water between the bank of the Bunyip and the downstream end of the small, tree-covered island. All the while Graham kept looking around, noting where they were, checking for any sign of the enemy, looking back along the line of camouflaged raiders.

  ‘We look bloody good!’ he thought. The camouflage, webbing, radios and the green epaulets all formed an image that lifted his spirits and helped stiffen his resolve.

  The island was only ten metres wide and then there were more rocks to step across, and even a few paces of wading in knee deep water. The water seeping into his boots didn’t bother Graham but he heard loud moans and complaints from The Four. He glared back at him but they ignored him, only relapsing into silence when CUO Masters called back angrily. That scorched Graham’s pride too. ‘He will think I can’t control my section,’ he thought unhappily.

  The rocks littered the river bed for a hundred metres. From his rudimentary knowledge of geography Graham decided it was a rock bar which extended most of the way across the river bed. Most were only boulders but there were several extensive sheets of smooth, water-polished granite. This was slippery to walk on and most of Graham’s attention was taken up with keeping his footing.

  Beyond that was sand, hundreds of metres of sand. As they trudged across this Graham looked downstream to his left and his mouth fell open in surprise. ‘There are the bridges!’ he noted with astonishment. He knew from the map that the highway bridge was only one and a half kilometres downstream, and the railway bridge another kilometre beyond that but he had not expected to see them so soon. The highway bridge was a grey bar half hidden by clumps of trees growing in the bed of the river. The railway bridge just showed as a criss-cross of spidery lines against the sky beyond.

  Seeing the objective moved Graham’s thoughts to the defenders and he looked first over his left shoulder at the line of trees along the river bank. ‘I wonder if Heatley does have a patrol watching us?’ he thought.

  Ahead and to the left front was the line of steep sand bluffs which marked the outside edge of Ruin Island. Graham scanned the crest but there were so many trees and bushes and cl
umps of grass that an enemy patrol would have no trouble staying hidden. Then he remembered what Capt Conkey had said during the briefing: 4 Platoon was to double back later on and go the other way. Marching openly across the sand in daylight was all part of the deception plan.

  ‘We are the decoys,’ he told himself. ‘I hope they are watching!’

  Loud muttering, curses and grumbles from behind caused him to amend this to ‘listening’. The Four were making so much noise that any enemy patrol on either bank of the river for hundreds of metres would be able to hear them. Once again he glared at them and then hissed angrily, “Stop making so much noise back there!”

  “Stick it up “ he heard muttered insolently back but was not sure who had said it. However the noise did tone down for a while.

  What The Four were complaining about was walking along the sandy river bed. It was hard on the leg muscles, particularly the upper thigh muscles. Graham began to pant and perspire. He kept looking back and noted Carnes plodding along, head down and the corners of his mouth down as well. ‘Oh, I hope he doesn’t give me any dramas,’ he worried.

  Pigsy’s voice carried clearly to him. “This is bloody stupid! We must stick out like a country dunny walking up the middle of the bloody river like this. Why don’t we try to sneak up on the enemy?”

  Graham stepped out of line and waved Halyday on. When Pigsy and Co came up to him he started walking level with them. “If you’d listened to the orders you’d know that was the idea,” he hissed. “Capt Conkey wants the enemy to see us so they will move more patrols to our side of the river.”

  “Oh that’s bloody great! That makes it even harder for us!” Moynihan replied with a sneer.

  Graham felt all his anxieties well up again but he kept his voice level. “And you four aren’t helping by making so much noise. Every enemy for miles must be able to hear you. So keep quiet.”

  “Up ya bum, ya sniveller,” Waters replied.

  By then Graham had turned and was striding along to regain his place at the front of the section. ‘Do I make an issue of that?’ he wondered. He decided to ignore it, but that caused another bout of mental self-flagellation. All his fears about being a weak leader and a coward swirled round in his head. ‘I should stand up to him straight away,’ he thought. But he didn’t, instead continuing to feed his worries.

  These were exacerbated by the fact that every step brought them closer to the far bank; and to the moment when his section would move off on their own. ‘Then I will have to sink or swim,’ he thought unhappily.

  All too soon that moment arrived. The long line of cadets, about sixty in number, at last reached the base of the sand cliffs. Close up these still looked steep but not as high. About ten metres Graham calculated. Along the bottom ran a dirt vehicle rack, just two wheel ruts in grass. CSM Cleland turned right and followed these for about 200 metres. When the track went in among head-high weeds, some sort of prickly burr, he halted.

  “Two Platoon rest,” CUO Masters ordered. He went forward to consult with CUO Grey and CSM Cleland. Graham had a drink and took out his map to study it. He was still looking at it when CUO Masters came back.

  “We are here, just near the northern end of the Anabranches,” CUO Masters said, pointing at the map.

  That confirmed what Graham had thought. He could see how the sand cliffs had become steadily lower and were giving way to rocks and trees. CUO Masters said, “Do a radio check and then follow Four Platoon for a hundred metres. That will bring you to the other side of the Anabranches. There is a gate in this fence beside us and the vehicle track goes up the bank. You follow that.”

  Graham nodded and felt his stomach churn. ‘This is it!’ he thought.

  CHAPTER 28

  MOMENT OF TRUTH

  A surge of something close to panic welled up in Graham’s emotions. It took all his mental effort not to let it show as he forced a smile to CUO Masters. To help hide it Graham turned away and beckoned Carnes to come to him. “Do a radio check Cadet Carnes,” he said. While Cranes did this Graham called CUO Masters on his own hand held radio and it worked ‘loud and clear’. When Carnes reported that his radio check was carried out there was no excuse for delaying any longer. 4 Platoon was already moving.

  “Right Cpl Kirk, off you go, and good luck,” CUO Masters said.

  Graham could only nod in reply, he felt so choked up. He signalled to the section and began walking along the dusty track. The others followed, Carnes walking directly behind Graham. A glance back showed him the others were following but also confirmed that he was now on his own. Already 2 Platoon was pushing through the weeds towards Ruin Island.

  A hundred metres further along the track divided. CSM Cleland and the Hutchie Men were standing there at a gate on the left, while the last members of 4 Platoon were vanishing among the trees off to the right. They would be heading over to recross the river and then to circle back to the Canning Junction through the rubber vines and Dingo Creek.

  CSM Cleland pointed up through the now open gate. “Up this way, then go left Cpl Kirk,” he said.

  That nettled Graham. “I know sir,” he replied shortly. His pride was badly enough dented without anyone assuming he couldn’t navigate!

  Porno held the wire gate open and offered rude and cheeky advice as the section filed through. “Don’t you get captured by dem St Michael’s fellas or you get sore bum,” he warned.

  As there were no female cadets in either patrol CSM Cleland made no comment to the crude repartee. Pigsy and Co all made smart remarks back and Andrews said, “How do you know Porno? Did they catch you?”

  “You be careful with smart-arse talk little boy or you get sore bum now from my boot!” Porno retorted.

  And then Graham really was on his own. Porno closed the gate and CSM Cleland and the Hutchie Men walked off to the right along the line of the fence. They were soon lost to sight behind the numerous large thorn trees which grew on the higher ground. Graham swallowed a mouthful of water to calm his jumping insides, then checked his watch.

  ‘1745, we are going alright,’ he thought. ‘About three quarters of an hour to dark.’

  They had a bit over a kilometre to cover to the highway and he did not want to try to cross in daylight. Graham looked around and decided he would move along just above the swampy depression that formed one of the anabranches. There were plenty of thorn trees and clumps of grass. He motioned Halyday and Andrews up and whispered to them what he wanted.

  “You two are the scouts. Head across that way but take your time, move from bush to bush. There is no hurry.”

  Just as they began to move the pack radio suddenly crackled and began talking. Graham spun round and snapped angrily at Carnes, “Put the bloody earphones on and turn that thing down. Don’t let that happen again!”

  Carnes looked shocked and for a moment Graham thought he was going to burst into tears. Carnes did as he was told, his face a sulky mask. ‘Damn!’ Graham thought. ‘I didn’t handle that very well!’ Flitting across his mind was the imagined comment on his own Personal Qualities Report: Reaction under stress. ‘Poor!’ he thought.

  The patrol began moving, the two scouts creeping one at a time from cover to cover. Their efforts were then set at nought by Pigsy and Co starting to talk. Graham gulped and knew he had to act. ‘If I can’t shut them up we will get caught for sure,’ he thought. Images if failure spurred him to move. He stalked back along the line and glared at The Four.

  “Stop talking. We don’t want the enemy to hear us.”

  “You are making more noise than we were,” Pigsy pointed out.

  “Just shut and co-operate!” Graham snapped back, his temper rising. “Be fair to the others in the patrol.”

  Pigsy curled his lip. “This mob! I couldn’t give a rat’s arse about them. We didn’t ask to be stuck with little first year toads like them.”

  That really nettled Graham. “Well your last platoon didn’t want you, and I can see why. Now shut up and do your job properly.”


  The barb went home and Pigsy gave him a venomous look but made no reply. Graham turned and made his way back to his place in the line. He found his heart was hammering in what felt like erratic palpitations and he was glad the battle of wills had not come to a head. He nodded and Halyday moved forward another ten metres.

  The route they followed was across the side of a very gentle slope. Down to the left the bright green of the swampy anabranch was visible. Beyond that was a real tangle of thorn trees and rubber vines which hid the other flood channels and Ruin Island. Graham knew that the remainder of the platoon would be moving along parallel to his patrol over there but he could not hear anything.

  The area was thickly dotted with the thorn trees but there was almost no grass. The numerous cow pats explained why; it was obviously heavily grazed by cattle. A few of these became visible in the distance and Graham signalled halt while he considered what to do.

  ‘If we frighten those cattle and they stampede off ahead of us it will warn any enemy we are coming,’ he thought.

  Before he could decide on a plan the issue was settled for him. A harsh laugh sounded from the back of the patrol: Pigsy! The cattle stopped eating and lifted their heads to look, before bolting off away from them.

  ‘Oh bugger it!’ Graham thought. The laughing and talking continued. By then the evening hush had set in and Graham knew that the sounds must travel for a long way on the still air. ‘I have to shut them up or we fail!’ he told himself.

  In his heart he knew that he faced one of those crucial tests in life. ‘If I don’t face this now, no matter what, I will despise myself for the rest of my life,’ he thought. The sheer starkness of his choice made him pause. Even now he groped in his mind for some strategy to put off the confrontation he that knew he must force if he was to retain both his self-respect and the control of the patrol.

  ‘This is a test of manhood, and of leadership,’ he told himself. He just wished it was not so, that the problem would somehow resolve itself, but from some fundamental part of his spiritual being he understood he had no choice. ‘I either settle this, or I go under,’ he told himself. For over a minute he stood, trembling with apprehension, his imagination conjuring up dark pictures of what The Four might do. These were counter-balanced by other images; telling Peter and Stephen how his patrol had gone on the exercise, and knowing he would have to lie to make it sound as though they had done well. The very thought of it made him feel sick.