The Cadet Under-Officer

by Christopher Cummings

  It was obvious to Graham that no-one had climbed the hill in a long time as several rock wallabies, cute brown creatures with black forepaws, legs and tail, sprang from shady nooks under rocks and fled in alarm. ‘I hope that no-one is looking at the hill,’ he thought.

  Graham followed a wallaby pad up between the rocks into another saucer shaped depression, smaller and deeper but again the width of the hill. A small knoll on the right marked the highest part of the hill. Looking at it he struggled for a word to describe this little hollow. The English word ‘dell’ came to mind but seemed inappropriate in the harsh glare of the Australian sun.

  The pad led to a shelf of rocks topping a vertical cliff on the left next to the knoll. From here they got an incredible vista. After checking his map Graham decided they could see for well over a hundred kilometres. In the far distance he could see Towers Hill, the westering sun glinting on the rooftops of Charters Towers. In between was a sea of gum trees broken by an occasional small clearing and a single white building. Closer in the gravel road appeared briefly over a rolling undulation. Then it reappeared near the river.

  The Bunyip came in a great green curve from behind a rugged range of hills on their right. The water held back by the weir glittered in the afternoon sun and extended for several kilometres until the actual weir. Then the river swept on in the direction of Bunyip Bend. This area was not visible, being obscured by trees and rocks further along the ridge top.

  To the North were several hills. The nearest of these gave the impression of being a forbidding pile of rocks - or several piles of rocks. It was topped by a silver painted radio mast. This nearest hill was about a kilometre away but was distinctly lower. In between was a dry creek bed which led into the Bunyip. The whole area to the west of Whaleback Hill and between the two hills was more of the parallel lines of granite boulders and dwarf acacias.

  The gravel road ran north to a junction with another road just near the dry creek. This new road went out of sight below the whale’s snout. The main gravel road crossed the creek and led to what Graham supposed to be their target. Between the rocky hill with the radio mast and the water impounded by the weir lay the buildings of the mining camp:-two rows of prefabricated huts and demountable steel sheds lining a dusty street.

  ‘That is the enemy’s base! The Black Pig’s lair!’ Graham told himself.

  CHAPTER 28

  THE HEAT IS ON

  Bargheese stood in the sun sweating with impatience while the cadets prepared a radio. The fat Staff Sergeant brought one out but it had to have a battery inserted and then it had to be strapped into its carrying harness. Then it had to be tuned and tested. The girl sergeant major came over and handed a sheet of paper to the Lt Maclaren, who was to carry the radio.

  “What is that note? Show me!” Bargheese said suspiciously.

  The girl brought it to him. “S.O.I.s. That’s all,” Barbara said.

  Bargheese was angered at the girl’s veiled insult. “I don’t know what that means. Explain it,” he demanded. He looked at the page:- a list of words with meanings and below a series of circles with numbers in them and numbers beside them.

  Barbara pointed to the sheet. “These are nicknames or codewords and their meanings and the diagram is our company radio net with the Call Signs and frequencies,” she explained. Barbara began to give him a lecture on Net Call Signs and alternate frequencies, speaking as though he was a retarded child.

  He cut her short rudely. “Yes, yes. I see. Get on with it,” he snapped. Then he swore.

  Barbara narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. “We don’t approve of foul language in this unit, thank you; and I object to it being used to me personally.”

  Bargheese was astounded at the girl’s strength of character and even had the grace to feel a momentary flush of shame before anger at being rebuked publicly overwhelmed it. He began to snarl to get them moving. Barbara turned, her back stiff with disapproval, and went to give the paper to the Lt Maclaren and to help adjust the radio.

  Berzinski watched Barbara through hooded eyes. “We should take her with us boss. I could teach her a lesson,” he said, his eyes filled with lust. Barbara heard him and gave him a look of contempt.

  Bargheese gestured angrily. “Get your mind on the job you fool!” he snapped.

  It all wasted 15 minutes.

  “Can you contact them now?” Bargheese asked after they had done a radio check.

  Capt Conkey spoke: “Yes. We have contact with all our platoons.”

  This gave Bargheese an idea. “Then call them all up and tell them to move back in.”

  Capt Conkey did this.

  Bargheese listened closely, unfamiliar with the radio procedure. “Was that them? What did they say?”

  Capt Conkey was worried, although he tried not to show it. “Yes. All platoons replied and all acknowledged.”

  Bargheese grinned. ‘This might be easier than I thought!’

  They set off. Berzinski led, followed by Bargheese, Capt Conkey and Lt Maclaren, then the other two security men. The track was easy to follow. This surprised Bargheese but made him even more relaxed and confident. ‘Soon I will have the brown notebook. Then all I have to do is keep all these cadets from contacting the police till just after sundown,’ he told himself. He began to plan his escape.

  They crossed the Canning and walked along Dingo Creek. There was no difficulty finding where 4 Platoon had gone up the cattle pad and the track through the rubber vines down to the Bunyip looked like an elephant had trampled it. By this time Bargheese was sweating so profusely his shirt clung to him and he realized sap from the cut and broken vines was staining his clothes. He eyed the splotches with distaste.

  When the track reached the bank of the Bunyip Bargheese called a halt. “Call Number Four Platoon and check they are moving.”

  Capt Conkey did as he was told.

  The radio crackled, then replied, “Moving now.” Bargheese relaxed and then took Lt Maclaren’s waterbottle from which he had been drinking. Bargheese drank it dry and dropped it. They began walking again.

  Fifteen minutes of sweating and dodging through the undergrowth and the party arrived at the grassy flood channels. Bargheese checked the time. 11:30. How quickly it went! He urged them to walk even faster although he was feeling quite faint from the heat.

  They came to the animal pad and Capt Conkey pointed left over the grassy ridge. “Over here,” he said.

  Berzinski pointed down. “These boot prints lead the other way.”

  “Maybe, but Four Platoon were told to camp beside the river,” Capt Conkey replied.

  “We will look there first,” Bargheese said. He strode up over the low ridge and down through the line of trees to the dry sand where the platoon had been.

  “They’ve been here anyway,” Captain Conkey said, pointing at the tracks in the sand.

  Bargheese looked around, oblivious to the beauty of the setting. He began to feel alarmed. “They aren’t here now - come on!” he grated.

  “Hey, Boss, give us a break. This heat’s killin’ us. We need a drink,” Vincent groaned.

  Bargheese realized he was feeling dizzy and exhausted himself. ‘It must be affecting my judgement. I can’t afford that.’ “Alright. Five minutes. Have a drink.”

  They made their way through the trees to the river. The others washed their faces and arms and drank deeply. Bargheese eyed the river water with disgust but realize he must drink so he knelt and forced himself to gulp some of the dirty liquid down. Then he rinsed his own face and arms. Feeling much better he led the way back up onto the sand.

  “Use the radio. Call Four Platoon and find out where they are,” he ordered.

  As Capt Conkey took the handset, Bargheese wondered if he was being tricked and if, somehow, the cadets had been warned. But by whom? When? He listened carefully.

  “Four Four, this is Browns Cow. Where are you now? I am at your new bivouac site, over,” Capt Conkey called.

  The voice that replied
almost at once was CUO Kirk’s and he sounded loud and close. Bargheese tensed in anticipation.

  CUO Kirk said, “This is Four Four, Browns Cow. We are moving back along the top of the bank not down in the rubber vines. Sorry about that. We didn’t know you were coming. You didn’t say which way to go. Will we come back to you or go on along the top?”

  Captain Conkey met Bargheese’s eyes. Bargheese pointed down. “Here,” he hissed.

  Captain Conkey nodded. “Come back, over.”

  CUO Kirk answered at once. “This is Four Four. Roger that. Watch out, there is a big black pig down there in the rubber vines. Out.”

  Bargheese’s smile faded and he involuntarily looked around. “Lewis, call up Falls and tell him to send the helicopter here,” he instructed.

  They walked out onto the low grassy ridge. Five minutes passed. Bargheese planned how to surround and search the cadets when they arrived and gave instructions to his men. The two Officers of Cadets stood silently in the shade.

  It was the helicopter which arrived first. It followed the river, flying only a hundred feet above the trees. The pilot saw them and circled, then came down to land in the grassy flood channel. Bargheese ran down to talk to the pilot. “Did you see a lot of cadets just up there on the bank?”

  Randall shook his head. “No, but I saw some on the road near ‘Canning Park’ homestead and our two blokes from the vehicle up there are running this way in the middle of the flat and waving their arms like crazy.”

  Bargheese felt uneasy. He told the helicopter pilot not to switch off and to warn the lookouts at Canning Causeway to report all cadets and to hold them prisoner. He then went out to the edge of the rubber vines, arriving just as the two miners burst into view.

  As the two miners described how they had been tricked and then disarmed Bargheese’s amazement turned to something close to blind fury. ‘A pistol! It must have been that fool Watton’s.’ He’d said nothing about it. Damn that boy!

  It suddenly dawned on him that the Cadet Under-Officer was the one thwarting him at every turn. To be mocked and beaten by a mere boy was a humiliating blow to Bargheese’s pride and he swore bitter revenge. ‘Indeed Cadet Under-Officer bloody Kirk has emerged to become not just one of my enemies but The enemy,’ he thought. ‘He is my personal opponent,’ he told himself - and until today completely unexpected. With almost absolute certainty Bargheese knew where the brown notebook was. ‘The CUO has it,’ he thought.

  Bargheese snarled an oath. “I must get the notebook. I will get it! And that treacherous little swine of a CUO will regret it!”

  The two miners also reported seeing cadets heading towards ‘Canning Park’ homestead and this tallied with what the helicopter pilot had said. That set alarm bells ringing in Bargheese’s mind. ‘They must be trying to reach a telephone for the police, or the Army Camp. I must stop them!’

  One of the miners then asked, “What the hell is going on Mr Bargheese?”

  “Just get back to your vehicle and radio in reports of any cadets you see,” Bargheese replied.

  “But..”

  “Just do it!” Barghees snarled. Spinning around he ran back to his men and gave them an angry outline of what had happened. When he saw Lt Maclaren smile at this Bargheese struck him very hard in the face, knocking him down. Somehow these Cadet Officers had warned Kirk and it must have been by radio, he decided.

  Lt Maclaren struggled up, blood trickling from his nose and mouth and matting his moustache. He put up his fists but Berzinski aimed his submachine gun and Capt Conkey took his arm and restrained him.

  Bargheese ignored them. “Berzinski, Vincent - into the helicopter. Lewis, take these two back to their camp - and don’t let them trick you or use their radio.” Then he ran to the helicopter, yelling at the others to hurry.

  The helicopter lifted off as soon as they were in their seats. It swung around, skimming the tree tops. The road and homestead were in view at once and Bargheese’s eyes settled instantly on three or four tiny figures on the dusty road near the turn off.

  “There they are!” he cried, pointing as he spoke. As he watched the figures began to run, dropping their packs as they did. The cadets ran into a paddock full of weeds and thorn trees. The helicopter skimmed low over the homestead and was soon over the field. By then the little figures were darting and scuttling under and around thorn trees and it was hard to count how many there were. Bargheese looked urgently around for somewhere to land the helicopter. The nearest safe place was a hundred metres away on the road.

  By the time Bargheese had jumped out of the helicopter he could no longer see the cadets in the long grass. He set off running with his two security men on his heels. The helicopter rose and zoomed low over the field, then turned. Vincent, who had the radio, yelled that the pilot could see the cadets. They were just reaching the trees beside the Canning.

  Bargheese would have sworn aloud if he hadn’t been gasping for breath. He spluttered and spat as he ran through large clumps of weeds which showered him with dried leaves and pollen. Some of the leaves stuck to his sweating skin and others went down the back of his shirt. He was more irritated and angry than he could ever remember.

  “They’re in the trees,” Vincent yelled. The helicopter went round and round in tight circles, its blades making vicious wak - wak - wak noises.

  Within one minute Bargheese and his men had reached the trees. The bank dropped steeply into a tangle of rubber vines, lantana, and trees. Again the helicopter called. “They’re crossing the river bed.”

  Bargheese swore and tried to find a way down through the tangle but followed a false trail and had to back track. Next he ran down an animal pad but it was a pig run and vanished into a tunnel of vines. He tried to crawl through but it was too small and his neck and arms were scratched and his hair and shirt filled with more dead leaves. By this he was almost frantic with rage. At last Berzinski found a wide cattle pad which led directly to the sandy river bed and they arrived just in time to see the last cadet fleeing into the trees on the far side.

  They began running after them but Vincent called again and passed Bargheese the radio. He had to slow down and walk to use it but he was out of breath anyway. It was the Cessna. It had just arrived and reported about twenty cadets crossing the Bunyip about two kilometres upstream from Canning Junction. Bargheese halted in his tracks and swore. He asked the pilot to confirm and give a map reference. The pilot said they were running from the north bank to the south bank and their location made it certain it was 4 Platoon!

  ‘Kirk has tricked me again!’ Bargheese thought angrily. ‘These three or four were only a decoy!’ For half a minute he stood there speechless with rage. Then he called back Vincent and Berzinski and ordered the helicopter to land. He began running back, then made himself walk and think clearly. The first answer came to him at once. ‘I have three men on that side of the river near Ruin Island. They can catch 4 Platoon.’

  The men were contacted by radio but with some difficulty. The message was relayed by the plane.

  As he walked Bargheese wondered where Kirk might be headed. From a study of the map he decided it could be Bunyip Bend to contact the police, or around near the Rail Bridge back to the Army Camp. ‘Which was where this group we have just chased are obviously going,’ he thought.

  That gave him other thoughts. He called the two miners at Canning Causeway - only about 300 metres downstream but just around the sharp bend in the river- and told them to move to the Highway and to patrol up and down it. Then he instructed the men there to report any cadets and to stop them crossing the highway. But he couldn’t do more as the miners must have heard some puzzling things already on the radio.

  Bargheese placed his pistol in his belt. He had, he realized, been carrying it for nearly two hours and his hand was cramping. He kept the radio and ran back up the cattle pad to the top of the bank, then across the three hundred metres of overgrown paddock. By the time he reached the road he was gasping for breath and suddenly the wo
rld seemed to reel and he had to grasp a rotten fence post to stop himself falling. He felt like he was burning up.

  Berzinski grabbed him. “You’ve stopped sweating, Mr Bargheese. You’re gunna get heat stroke if you don’t slow down, cool down and have a big drink.”

  Bargheese nodded and nearly vomited. He was helped to the helicopter. Vincent was coughing and crimson-faced as well. It was the knowledge that CUO Kirk and the brown notebook were now on the other side of the Bunyip that kept Bargheese going. He heard Falls calling the three men across the river asking what the shot was he’d heard and for a report on what was going on. ‘Have they caught them?’ Bargheese wondered.

  At Bargheese’s frantic urgings the helicopter lifted off. As it did another radio message from the plane reported about twenty cadets crossing the Bunyip from Ruin Island but heading towards Canning Junction. Was that them? They must have moved fast and somehow avoided the three men. ‘If it is them, what are they up to now?’ he wondered.

  Bargheese realized with a start that he had begun to anticipate further bad news regarding the exploits of CUO Kirk. He told the helicopter to land near the tents of the cadet company HQ although, as a helipad, it was dangerously restricted with large gum trees and numerous thorn bushes.

  As he climbed out Bargheese saw a line of cadets coming up from the river bank. These were the ones who had been reported as crossing from Ruin Island a few minutes before. Feeling light-headed but hopeful he walked towards them as Falls and the girl CSM met them. But it was not Number 4 Platoon! It was Number 2 Platoon and its commander was another girl, CUO Gwen Copeland - very pretty, blonde, greenish eyes, very self-assured and haughty to Bargheese. She was inclined to ignore him but at the CSM’s instructions took her platoon to their bivouac site down amongst the trees.