The Cadet Under-Officer

by Christopher Cummings

  Cpl Sheehan nodded and carried Lt McEwen around to the far end of the shed to where her car was parked.

  Halyday appeared with the .308 Winchester and a .22 sporting rifle. “Found the ‘twenty two’ in the Landcruiser and two packets of bullets, nearly a hundred I guess, and the Three-O-eight’s loaded - Nine rounds, and there was an open box in the glove box - Twenty seven rounds all up.”

  Graham nodded approval. “That’s good. Our friends comfortable?”

  “Yeah. We searched ‘em and tied ‘em in different corners of the shed. They’re all gagged. What we gunna do, sir?”

  “I’m going to stop this plane flying. Find some tools.” The two did a quick search of the work bench. Graham had an idea of removing the wheels or the propeller. He couldn’t see spare ones anywhere but after a short inspection realized he didn’t have the technical knowledge. Instead he decided to puncture all the tyres. Halyday found nails and a large hammer and began cheerfully to drive them in. It was no easy task and the hammer just bounced, nearly hitting him. After accidentally hitting himself he gave it up in disgust and had to be restrained from smashing the instruments and windshield.

  “Paint the windows. I’ll cut this,” Graham said. He took a hacksaw to one of the wing struts. There did not appear to be a spare and it looked not too expensive and easy to replace. He didn’t think a pilot would fly with one cut in two. The hacksaw ripped easily into the aluminium. Halyday reappeared with a tin of white paint and emptied it all over the windows. He then went back into the shed.

  Cpl Sheehan joined them looking worried. “I can’t find the keys to Miss McEwen’s car. We’ve asked the bloke who was guarding her and searched him but he says it was another bloke that drove her car last night, an Irishman named Mick, and he must still have the keys.”

  “Well, there’s this Landcruiser and that utility. We’ll take one of them. Find their keys,” Graham said. He finished cutting and leaned on the strut which bent easily, leaving it obviously beyond easy repair.

  Halyday re-appeared trailing an extension cord and carrying an electric drill. He placed this on a tyre and squeezed the trigger. But he didn’t hold the drill firmly enough and it slewed off, tearing his trousers and skinning his knuckles. Swearing loudly he tried again, leaning hard on it to hold the drill bit on the rubber. Graham hooked the hacksaw over a waterbottle on his webbing and went to get some wire cutters. When he returned Halyday had driven the drill bit deep into the tyre and was trying to pull it out but couldn’t.

  The plane took on a lean and this made it easier for Graham. He leaned into the engine space and began snipping every wire he could see. Cpl Sheehan joined him holding some keys.

  “For the Landcruiser.”

  “Good. Can you drive a car Pat?” Graham asked.

  Cpl Sheehan shook his head. “No sir. Sorry.”

  Graham looked at Halyday, who also shook his head. “But I’m game to try,” he said.

  Graham bit his lip and wished he had a driver’s licence. “We will have a go anyway. Get Miss McEwen in Pat. We will be finished in a moment.”

  Cpl Sheehan turned to leave then stopped. “Sir, helicopter!”

  Graham pocketed the wire cutters and grabbed his rifle. He could hear the chopper but not see it. ‘What should we do?’ he thought. Should they stay and try to arrest whoever it was, and risk a shoot-out? Should they try to drive off in the vehicle? He rejected this as the helicopter could easily out-distance them and they would then face the possibility of an ambush on the long deserted bush road to Charters Towers. And I don’t want to leave my platoon,’ he thought. So, best to try to hide in the bush, at least for the moment.

  “Quick, Pat. Grab those rifles and we’ll get Miss McEwen to cover. We will hide in the gully.”

  They ran past the shed to where Miss McEwen lay in her car. As they went behind the shed the helicopter appeared from behind Whaleback Hill. Graham gave quick instructions. He risked a look and saw that the chopper was settling near the fuel drums.

  Pointing he called, “This way, into the gully.” He took Lt McEwen’s arm and put it around his shoulder. Cpl Sheehan took the other side and they half-ran, half-carried her for fifty paces to the head of a gully, keeping the shed between them and the enemy.

  As fast as they could they made their way down the gully at a crouch. As they did Lt McEwen groaned several times and once her eyes flickered open, then rolled up into her head, which hung limp. At the junction of the gully and the dry creek Graham paused. He lay Lt McEwen down in some shade and anxiously checked her pulse.

  Biting his lip with anxiety Graham looked up. “She’s in a bad way Pat. She needs a doctor. We will have to carry her.”

  As he said this her eyes opened again. She moaned, then said, “What? Who? Oh Graham... What’s going on?”

  “We are running away from Bargheese Miss,” Graham replied.

  “I can walk. Help me,” she said.

  Graham indicated the rough stones, burs and prickles. “Not in bare feet Miss. Pat, get my spare socks out of my back pack. Halyday, get up the bank and tell us what is going on.”

  In less than a minute Lt McEwen had rolled on the thick woollen army socks. She was shaking with emotion and looked dazed and confused.

  Halyday called down. “They are all standing around the helicopter. It’s parked next to the fuel drums and they are opening drums ready to refuel. Four of them. One is Bargheese and two are security men. Now Bargheese and one of the security men are walking towards the hangar.”

  ‘Now the fat will be on the fire!’ Graham thought. To his own surprise he found he wasn’t frightened; more excited, almost jubilant. ‘Now we will show that mongrel!’ he told himself. Adrenalin pumped and he felt a deep urge to fight.

  “Pat, help Lt McEwen. I want you to go down this dry creek until you are between the two hills, then go up the ‘snout’ of Whaleback Hill and wait for us,” he said, pointing to where he meant. “Halyday and I will decoy them. I’m going to try to put that helicopter out of commission too. Get going.”

  Lt McEwen put her hand on his sleeve. “Graham, no! I don’t want anyone shot.”

  “There won’t be Miss - or only in self-defence,” he said.

  “No!” Lt McEwen cried, but even as she did she slumped over and passed out.

  “I’ll carry her sir,” Cpl Sheehan said.

  “Good man Pat,” Graham said. He helped Cpl Sheehan hoist Lt McEwen over his shoulder in a ‘fireman’s carry’. “Can you manage?” he asked.

  “Yep. She’s not that heavy,” Cpl Sheehan said.

  “Good. Off you go!” Graham said. He watched anxiously as Cpl Sheehan staggered off down the dry creek bed. As soon as they were out of sight Graham ran up the bank to join Halyday. From this angle they couldn’t see the front of either the hangar or the shed. To be able to do so he began running up the small creek to the right, retracing their earlier route. Halyday followed.

  As he ran Graham heard a shout and went up the bank at a crouch to peer through a bush. He could see through the hangar and laughed softly at the look on the faces of Bargheese and Berzinski as they looked at the wrecked plane. The two crooks then ran towards the shed, Bargheese drawing a pistol and the security man cocking a wicked looking submachine gun.

  Their shouts attracted the pilot and Martinez. They stopped trying to insert a hand pump into a fuel drum and ran to see what was going on. Graham began running as well, keeping low as he doubled across the dirt road.

  He paused behind a bush to look. Bargheese and Berzinski were out of sight in the shed. The other two were looking at the plane. ‘Good!’ Graham continued running.

  It was a hundred metres of flat open ground to the drums. It took about thirty seconds before both Graham and Halyday were crouched there, still unseen. The helicopter pilot and Martinez walked to the shed and went inside. Graham decided it was the only chance they would get.

  “Come on!” he snapped, running around the drums to the helicopter. “Break the instru
ments,” he ordered. Graham’s fear of legal consequences was swept away in the excitement. He grabbed the hacksaw and leaned in to attack the control column. Halyday ran around the other side. Whack! Glass splinters and shards of plastic flew.

  As he sawed Graham kept looking over his shoulder. He saw the pilot hurry out of the door and his mouth open in horror. The man cried out.

  Graham gave a last wrench at the now bent control column. “Run for it!” he yelled. He kept the hacksaw and grabbed his rifle. They bolted.

  Their path took them around the drums and towards the hill.

  Crack!

  A bullet snapped past. Graham looked and saw Bargheese near the shed. He had a pistol in his hand and was aiming it. Graham dived flat and pushed off the safety catch.

  “Keep going to the bottom of the hill. I’ll cover you. Then you cover me,” he shouted. Halyday raced on.

  The CUO raised the heavy rifle with a calmness and detachment he later marvelled at. He aimed at the ground just to the right of Bargheese and squeezed the trigger.

  Bang!

  The old rifle went off with a very satisfying noise. The recoil slammed the butt back into his shoulder. The bullet hit the ground, throwing up a spurt of sand. It obviously almost hit Berzinski and the pilot who had just raced into view. All three of the enemy scrambled into the shed so fast Graham laughed out loud.

  Determined to keep the initiative he worked the bolt and aimed again and sent a heavy bullet whacking through the tin sides of the hangar. Then he felt guilty in case he had hit someone by mistake. He ejected the spent cartridge and loaded another. The smell of cordite and burnt rifle oil acted as a tonic.

  Moving rapidly Graham ran the fifty metres back into the gully. From there he saw that Halyday was waving from boulders near the base of the hill. Lt McEwen and Cpl Sheehan were visible climbing up the ‘snout’. Cpl Sheehan was half-carrying her still but she appeared to be walking. With relief Graham saw they were near the top of the hill.

  Heads peeked out of the hangar. Graham snapped a bullet through the wall well above their level. Berzinski and Martinez appeared, running fast. They went sideways down into the gully. Graham aimed but didn’t fire for fear of accidentally hitting one. Instead he turned and put a bullet through the helicopter cockpit. The time for discretion had passed.

  Again and again he fired, rapidly and deliberately - two shots into the control panel - he could see the Perspex bubble ‘star’ as the bullets went in. Then three into where he thought the engine was. Next he tried to hit the machinery connecting the main rotor but couldn’t tell whether he’d missed or not. A bullet struck a rock beside him and whimpered off into the bush - a 9mm from Berzinski’s SMG.

  “Time I was off!” Graham muttered. He emptied his magazine into the fuel drums, then started running.

  Now he felt fear as several shots snickered past. One hit a tree with a distinct ‘thunk!’ but it was long shooting for a submachine gun - well over a hundred metres. Graham weaved as he ran and was amazed at the clarity of his vision.

  Shots snapped down from overhead. Halyday had opened fire with the MI6 - a burst of six rounds on automatic down the gully.

  “Single shots Halyday, save your ammo!” Graham yelled as he came up to him but the burst achieved its purpose. No more shots came his way and he reached some rocks fifty paces up the hill above Halyday. He flung himself down, gasping for breath. “Don’t move till I reload,” he called, “then get half way up the hill.”

  “Roger that!” Halyday replied. Then he fired a single shot. “They’re both in the gully just the other side of the road. Reference big black tree. Slightly right.”

  Graham pulled a clip of five rounds from the bandolier and pushed them down through the open bolt into the magazine. With trembling fingers he flicked the clip away and pushed in another, then worked the bolt shut. Suddenly he felt on top of the world. It was the most exciting event of his life. He crawled to a fire position looking around the end of the rocks. It was uncomfortable and rocks dug into him but he barely noticed.

  Graham had come just far enough up the hill for the buildings and helicopter to be obscured by the tree canopy. He couldn’t see clearly where the road crossed the gully but sighted where he thought Halyday meant and sent a bullet skittering off the rocks there.

  Halyday came up slope at the run, his face one huge grin. Snap! Another 9mm bullet but well off mark. Graham caught a glimpse of a blue shirt and snapped a shot before remembering he wasn’t supposed to hit them. Halyday scrambled up the rocky slope past him. Graham twisted his head and looked up. He could no longer see Lt McEwen or Cpl Sheehan. Below him there was shouting at the hangar and in the gully:- Bargheese telling Berzinski to catch them and Berzinski and Martinez explaining their lack of enthusiasm.

  Graham grinned and sat back behind his boulder. He pulled out his waterbottle, had a quick drink, then yelled out. “Come on you bloody crooks! Come and get us!” Then he laughed out loud.

  There was swearing from the gully and Berzinski scuttled across the road and dived into a dip. Graham put a bullet through a small tree near him. The heavy bullet punched straight through the trunk, spraying out wood splinters. Graham saw Martinez, who’d just started to run forward, goggle at this then dive back behind some rocks.

  Halyday fired, the lighter crack of the 5.56mm seeming quite mild after the .303. Graham set off up the slope. He knew he was exposed and if the crooks had had rifles he wouldn’t have tried it but he suspected Berzinski was short of ammo for his SMG as he wore no ammo pouches. A shotgun boomed and pellets spattered leaves and rocks but Martinez was nearly 200 metres back now. Graham wasn’t hit. The shot had obviously lost momentum.

  Halyday fired and so did another rifle in the rocks near the whale’s right ‘eye’:- Cpl Sheehan on top in the OP. Graham ran up the rocky slope as fast as he could until his heart was thumping fit to burst and his breath came in hot gasps which hurt. But he couldn’t keep it up and slowed to a painful walk and slogged on up past Halyday who commented

  “They haven’t moved. We’ve got the drop on ‘em from up here.”

  Graham turned and looked. They certainly had. The hill dominated the whole airfield. He saw the pilot near the helicopter and Bargheese near the rear of the hangar. Graham walked on up to the top - only another hundred laboured steps- and found a good rock to use as cover. Cpl Sheehan was nearby, rifle ready.

  Steadying his rifle on a rock Graham called, “Ok Halyday.” Halyday came up at a fast walk. Graham measured the distances with his eye - 200 metres to the road, 400 to the fuel and 500 to the hangar. He adjusted his sights and aimed at the white utility. It was plunging fire so he aimed high. Bang! He didn’t see the fall of shot but Bargheese vanished and the pilot crouched behind the fuel drums. Graham steadied his breathing, reset the sights and took deliberate aim.

  Bang! Tunggk! The bullet could be clearly heard striking a fuel drum. The pilot suddenly broke cover and sprinted towards the hangar. The sight caused Graham to chuckle. He reloaded.

  Cpl Sheehan called out, “Those two in the gully are pulling back!”

  Halyday flopped down beside him gasping.

  Graham called, “Don’t shoot. Let them go!” ‘We might need the ammo,’ he thought. In the back of his mind was the suspicion that the battle was a long way from over. ‘But we have certainly won the first skirmish,’ he told himself. It was a good feeling.

  They three cadets lay watching the two men run all the way back to vanish into the hangar. Only then did Graham realize how hot the rocks were and he eased himself up to a standing position on the little flat shelf behind them. The place looked made by nature as a fort. Up till then he had intended heading off out to some Grid Reference in the featureless bush as the safest base to operate from but instinct seemed to say that was wrong.

  Certainly the enemy knew they were on the hill but that could be more a source of worry to them. ‘They must feel themselves dominated by the hill,’ Graham decided. He resolved to hold it
for the time being. His experience made him confident the crooks couldn’t approach it unseen by day and he knew Bargheese didn’t have the men to surround it. ‘We can withdraw at any time,’ he rationalized. The CUO sensed himself to be temporarily master of the situation.

  “Keep an eye on this side of the hill Cpl Halyday. Cpl Sheehan, you watch the other side,” Graham called, pointing to rocks at the top of the path down the snout. They both nodded and moved to better positions.

  Hearing voices behind him Graham looked back and saw Roger talking to Margaret. The friends grinned at each other. Graham climbed back up through the boulders. He was trembling now and his shirt was soaked with sweat.

  “That showed the slime-bags,” he said exultantly.

  Roger nodded. “It certainly did. It looked good from up here. We had a grandstand view,” he replied.

  “Been here long?”

  Roger shook his head. “Just arrived when the helicopter came. I was talking to Tully when the shooting started.”

  They walked around the top knoll to the hollow. The remainder of the platoon was resting there. Lt McEwen was conscious and sitting against a rock. Cadet Robinson was washing her face and Rosemary was bathing her feet which were badly cut and bruised. Elizabeth lay nearby looking exhausted and miserable with her feet covered with band aids.

  Graham knelt. “How do you feel now, Miss?”

  Lt McEwen smiled, wincing as it hurt her cracked lips. “Very relieved. Thank you. I thought I would just vanish and never be seen again. The cavalry arrived just in time it seems. I didn’t know you were going to start a war.”

  “Aw! Not a war Miss. Just clipping Mister Bargheese’s wings. I’m afraid we’ve done some expensive damage to his aircraft. I don’t think he’ll be flying out of here now.”

  Even as he said this Graham remembered the note in the brown notebook about another plane due to fly in to Brendan Creek tonight with more illegal immigrants. Would it still come? Would Bargheese radio it to keep away? Or was he now depending on it for his own escape? The germ of an idea formed in the CUO’s brain.