by Leo Nix
'That's strangely funny', he thought unconsciously, and smiled.
“Bongo, you and Roo are out of this fight, mate, you've done your bit and deserve some time to recover from your wounds. You both go with Harry and Tricia and beef up the support with the girls if the enemy get past us. Got that?” The two scouts nodded their assent.
“Anything else?” he asked the room. His voice was met with silence, a readiness and an urgency to just get on with it.
Wiram looked out of the window, it was dawn and the sun was just a dull glow in the winter sky. There were storm clouds building to the west.
“It's going to be a busy day, hmm, might rain. Well, we've got our work to do so let's get to it,” he said to the room. “Donna and Gail, on me. The rest of you better get moving. And for the new folks, please go and see Harry for weapons, ammunition and anything else you need. One One Bravo and our bike and cab patrol, will head out within the half hour.”
Chapter 17 - Ancient Sparta
Just as the commando began to leave Nulla stood and called for everyone to wait a moment. “Wiram, if you don't mind I'd like to have a word before we head off.”
Wiram nodded wearily, he welcomed any opportunity to ease the load on his shoulders right at that moment. Sergeant Nulla appeared to be someone he could rely on.
“Folks, I'm just a newcomer to Sundown's Commando, but I've been fighting the enemy since the apocalypse, just like you have. Before we head off to battle I'd like to tell you a story, a story of the ancient Greek city state of Sparta. It has a special meaning for us today.” He paused, Simon and Luke looked across at each other and shrugged, wondering what Nulla was up to now.
“The Spartans trained to fight and kill from childhood. They were hard men, experienced and ruthless fighters, they were also honourable, respectful and devoted in the worship of their Gods and Goddesses. On the eve of battle each man would find a stick and carve his name on it. Then he would break it in half. One half he gave to his officer and the other half he bound to his arm. The half he kept represented his warrior spirit, that part of him that showed no mercy. It was aroused when faced with an enemy who tried to kill him, his mates and his family. This half would kill and keep on killing, it was like a demon that possessed him. With this spirit he would do terrible, unimaginably cruel and vicious things,” Nulla paused allowing his story to sink in.
“The half he gave to his officer represented his gentle spirit, his loving, caring side that would be horrified at what the other half would do. This gentle side was kind and merciful, it was what he showed his wife, his mother and his children.” He paused again and noticed that each person present appeared to be deep in thought as they listened to the story.
“At the end of battle the Spartan soldiers would collect their dead. The officer would then call out the names of his troop and hand back the sticks to those who survived. Some of the dead might be unrecognisable, only identified by bringing the two halves of their name-sticks together. This allowed them to be buried according to their rituals. It was only right that the dead were shown the respect of their names being passed on with their spirit to the other world.”
Nulla stopped and looked around at everyone again, his voice rose as he came to the crucial point of his story.
“Handing the name-sticks back to the survivors, represented their return to the world of the living. It gave them back their humanity. Battle is evil, we do and feel things we would be ashamed of in any other situation. Soldiers have to live with their actions, their acts of bravery, their acts of cowardice and their fears. The Spartans recognised that battle could send good men crazy, into a spiral of depression and remorse – we call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD. The ritual of returning their gentle and caring spirit to them, at the end of battle, was a way of recognising that we must do evil things to save our loved ones. When it's over, we must come back to our caring and gentle selves, to be part of our family and community once more.”
The commandos listened, recognising their own fears in Nulla's story. He softened his voice as he continued. “When we head out to engage our enemy, we'll each do evil things that we'll have to live with. But when we return we need to let it go, somehow.” His voice grew louder, “Sundown's Commando will head out and engage the enemy today. We will kill or be killed, witness our enemy and our friends killed. But we do it for a purpose, not just for our family and loved ones, but for humanity itself.”
The solid aboriginal warrior, stood up straight, looking at everyone. He waited a few more seconds before finishing his speech. “Good luck, lads, and may the Gods and Goddesses, or whatever you believe in, watch over you today.”
Each of the commando secretly wondered if they would come back to their caring and gentle selves, or would the experiences of battle send them mad?
There was a rumble of sound as everyone stood up to leave, the sounds of scraping chairs and talking added to the din. Breakfast was still being served and Ahmet asked Jenny if he could bring his men in before they headed off. Jenny nodded, her and the girls needed to prepare extra meals for the patrols heading off to the Coopers Creek crossing. She then needed to pack for their retreat to the safe house on the edge of the desert.
“Donna, can you please stick with me for a moment?” Wiram bent down to her ear and spoke quickly, “I need you to keep me informed of all activity. I need you to record everything in your mind and be prepared to recall it for me when I need it. When we call in by radio I want you to use our own code, the one Assassin and Gail made up, don't use Alice Springs. And be careful love.”
He flushed a little as he reached across to squeeze her hand. Donna noticed his flushed face and smiled inside. That was the closest they'd come to a kiss in all their time working together.
“I will, Wirrie, don't worry about me. Besides, I've got six handsome men to look after me.” She giggled and left to gather her weapons and gear from Harry's shed.
“Hurry up with your breakfast boys, we've got an army to kit out and families to get in their transport,” called Harry to the lounge room at large. Wiram noticed his furrowed brow, he looked stressed, as would be expected.
“I'm sorry, Harry, you've got a big job ahead of you. All I need to know is if you can get our weapons packed into the trucks. Maybe get Lulu and Danni to help you get everyone kitted out and packed up?” suggested Wiram.
Harry thought for a moment before saying, “It's going to take time, but if I can have the girls I'll make sure it's all done. OK, yep, the girls know what to hand out, consider it done, bro.” He walked out calling after the two giggling teenagers.
Blondie held back while everyone else filed out to get on with their preparations. Fat Boy was already in the kitchen doing what he could to help prepare the meals and food parcels for the fighting patrols. The kitchen had become his new home since they arrived and it was noticed that not once did he lament the loss of his Harley-Davidson.
The blond model walked over to Wiram and asked if she could talk to him alone. They moved a few metres away while Nulla busied himself rolling a cigarette.
“What can I do for you, Blondie?” asked Wiram. He'd heard a little of what had happened in Mount Isa but no one really knew the truth. Wiram was aware that there were many unanswered questions regarding Fat Boy and his partner. In fact, Donna said she didn't believe they were lovers at all, they were more like brother and sister.
“Wiram, your people have been good to us from the day we arrived. Pedro in particular has given Fat Boy a reason to live. My poor…” she paused trying to find the words, “my poor… Fat Boy, has been sad and withdrawn since the apocalypse and well, Pedro and everyone here have helped him come out of his depression. We're grateful but no one really knows us, who we really are and what we've done in the past. Just know that we will do what we can to help. I can fire a weapon, I can kill, I can go under cover and do things that would make even you shudder. I don't say that to be prideful, Wiram, I'm not a nice person under this skin you see. I
may be nice on the outside but underneath I'm damn mean and rotten.”
Wiram leaned back a little when she said this then rocked forward again. “Blondie, we've all done shit we aren't proud of. I don't give a rat's you-know-what about your past life.”
“Thanks, Wiram,” but her eyes said she wasn't finished.
“What job can I give you?” he asked realising she was serious about offering to help.
“I'm an under cover agent for the Revelationist church. Not even Fat Boy knows how deep I am. The truth is he's my brother, but don't tell anyone here. Only one other knows, Sundown, and now you.” She spat it out at last and it felt better. Blondie stopped talking to see what impact it had on him. It had no affect at all so she continued. “Wiram, I can infiltrate the church, I'm Tajna Služba.” That got his attention, she noticed.
“Now it all makes sense. Tajna Služba, huh. Go on,” said Wiram rocking back on his heels again. He reached into his pocket for his own tobacco, he needed a cigarette right now.
“So you see I can help from the inside. Just give me the word and I'll be heading south to escape these evil Sundown's Commandos, ready to provide information to my beloved Church leaders.”
“Blondie, you've already sacrificed enough, please, go with the girls and support them. Can I ask that you tell Tricia what you just told me?”
“I will, Tricia knows some of it, just a bit. OK, but the offer stands. If you ever need an infiltrator, the Tajna Služba is ready to do her job.” With that Blondie left to find Tricia and offer her services.
Wiram was still slightly shaken as he looked up to find Nulla. There was no one else in the now empty lounge besides the two powerful aboriginal warriors.
“Wiram, what did you want me to do, mate?” Nulla asked meeting him in the middle of the room, cigarette in his hand and a plume of smoke escaping his nostrils.
Shaking his head to clear it a little, Wiram brought his own cigarette to his lips but grimaced when he tried to draw on it, it had gone out.
“Ah, Nulla, thanks mate,” he said as he accepted the lighter. “I first wanted to say how sorry I am that you got caught up in this mess on your first day with us. I'd also like to say 'Thank God' you're here today. We've got real problems and I need you and your boys to go in with the Bushmaster and help Cambra and Pellino to harass the enemy as you withdraw.”
Wiram stopped talking to relight the cigarette and handed the lighter back to his new friend. They both drew smoke deeply into their lungs and relaxed a little.
Wiram continued. “While you're out there I really need you to hook up with Assassin. I'll try to contact him and let him know you're on your way. If you can send one of your boys with Assassin to check up on our bike team, they must have been hit by the terrorists near Mungerannie, that would really help. Assassin knows your boys so I'll let you decide who to send with him.”
The two stood silently for a few moments enjoying their cigarettes as though it was the last smoke they would ever have. Wiram looked into the eyes of his fellow warrior and saw a reflection of himself, he felt reassured.
“Sergeant Nulla, just get my boys back safely.”
Chapter 18 - Lovers Fantasy
The radio and codes the Stosstruppen captured were proving to be very important prizes. The church leaders in Adelaide desperately wanted them. One thing the military excel at is it's codes and code breaking, but no one had a computer. Without electricity, electrical appliances were dumped, trashed and generally allowed to deteriorate. You can't eat a computer and no one bothered to play computer games, write invoices or send emails. Some people had calculators, some still had DVD players and wrist watches were popular; but computers were useless and worthless.
The church were incredibly ill prepared for the aftermath of the apocalypse. It seemed they could plan the massacre of the entire world's population, but the following day…? The intelligence staff had to do everything by hand and there were no Einstein's in the Adelaide camps.
Major Daniels switched from elation to despair and back again. Not only did they knock out one of the Bushmaster armoured transports, obliterate the Patrol One stockade but they captured prisoners and the Third Army code book. Daniels had his captain on pins and needles trying to keep up with him.
Captain Burgess was a brilliant strategist but not the greatest mathematician and an absolute failure at code breaking. He did, however, have a genius, a budding Stephen Hawkins-like mind in his personal retinue.
“Private Little!” he yelled, “get in here now and stop stuffing around with that bloody sticky-tape dispenser!” He always became aggravated by the youngster's annoying idiosyncrasies. “And put that damned box of tissues down!”
Little by name, little by stature but broad of girth, Private Little scampered into his superior's office as fast as his legs and width allowed. He tried to stand at attention but his head lolled to one side. Little stood sniffing a glob of mucus in and out of his nostril. At first Captain Burgess tried to ignore him, but finally he exploded.
“For fuck-sake, Little! Wipe your bloody nose with the back of your sleeve like everybody else!” he roared.
Private Little did as he was told leaving a long slimy line of snot on his shirt sleeve. The captain gagged, he felt an insistent urge to call his duty NCO to take this moron outside and shoot him. But he resisted the urge, he needed Little's brains.
“Little, Lance Corporal Jaina will drive you out to the Patrol One site where you'll take possession of the enemy's radio and code book. You will, with Jaina as escort, return to Marree and recreate that code for our intelligence boys in Adelaide. Do you understand that?” His face turned beetroot red when he noticed a splotch of snot on the floor at Little's feet. As he looked up he was just in time to watch as another drop drip off the end of his nose.
Little was terrified of this man, in fact he was terrified of just about everything to do with the military and the church. He'd not joined up willingly. He had no choice, his parents were devoted church members. Without a friend in the world to advise him otherwise, he just went along.
When the church found out he was a genius with numbers, and just about any problem put to him, they ensconced him into their intelligence section. To their dismay he proved to be a complete failure as a soldier. The closest he ever made it to soldiering was to wear a uniform.
Major Daniels once said that Little wore his uniform as though someone had poured him into it and forgot to say “when”. He looked like a combination of sumo wrestler and geek. And geek he was with a mind worth a million useless computers to Daniels. Every time Burgess tried to send him away, Daniels stepped in and stopped him.
In many ways Daniels enjoyed teasing Burgess, deliberately involving the young man in their conversations. Watching Burgess trying to control himself in the presence of this young man was a sheer delight.
“You will return to Marree and bring the two prisoners back with you as well as the code book and radio.” Burgess closed his eyes so he couldn't see the disgusting creature in front of him. “Now get out of my sight, and don't come back without everything I've asked for.”
Private Little stood there uncertain. He sniffed a long fluid stream of mucus back into his nose and Burgess exploded.
“Didn't you hear me, Little? Get the hell out of my sight, you damn little shit!”
On the drive out to the Patrol One site, Lance Corporal Jaina kept up a light conversation with the wretched soldier. They'd worked with Daniels and the church for the past few years and this was the first time she had been alone with him, really alone. Right now her mind raced between high anxiety, dread, then thoughts of raw, adolescent lust.
Jaina kept a special image in her mind of the time, two years ago, when she saw his enormous erection. It was while they were working together for the regional High Priest. Like everyone else in college she treated Little as if he were an insect, a disease. She felt so ashamed thinking of how she'd treated him so badly, but back then, everyone did.
; That special day the large breasted teenager had worn a low-cut top, she soon noticed that Little kept staring at her cleavage. To make a boring day interesting she kept pulling her top lower every time he turned away. She enjoyed not just the nastiness of it, but the teasing seemed to take control of her, amazingly it aroused her.
On that special day Little was standing on the desk in front of her as she handed him some papers to place in the top shelf of a bookcase. Right at that moment his groin was directly at her eye level. His trousers were always too tight for his girth and the bulge in his pants looked just like a salami. It reminded her of the salamis hanging in the butcher's window at Hahndorf.
Jaina felt her face flush, then suddenly she felt her whole body shudder in an ecstatic spasm. She couldn't control her arousal on seeing his erection, her physical response took her completely by surprise.
From that moment on her opinion of him changed and she began to look forward to his company. She would often wear provocative clothing just to watch him stare at her. Jaina lived with the anticipation of seeing that magical bulge once more, and she did, several times.
Since that day the teenager spent most of her time daydreaming erotic fantasies of how she would take hold of that salami. She never had the courage to tell him though. Today was the day she decided, she could no longer resist the nagging hot passion blazing inside her loins.
Jaina drove slowly past the ambush site at Mungerannie, where the Stosstruppen had destroyed the Bushmaster and forced the bike patrol to escape into the desert. The soldiers waved at her as they cleared the dead bodies away for burial. That was just a mild distraction. Eventually her lustful thoughts were so strong she was forced to pull over into a secluded creek bed, just before they arrived at the Patrol One site.
“Little, it's hot isn't it?” she panted in excitement as she pulled her shirt up over her head to expose her pale, ample breasts. Little ogled. He quickly covered his face in his hands and a squeaky noise escaped his lips.