Behind Mt. Baldy

by Christopher Cummings

  A movement in the distance caught Roger’s eye. It was Graham, running towards them through the bush. He was skirting along the base of the mountain. Roger stood up and gripped the rifle.

  Were they too late?

  Graham raced up in a lather of sweat, pounding through the waist high grass with complete disregard for snakes and logs. He arrived with eyes gleaming and face alive with excitement.

  “Come on! The princess is still there. Or at least we think she is because there are five worried looking partisans guarding the shed. They wouldn’t do that if there wasn’t a good reason. Switch that radio off and follow me.”

  He turned and set off at a run back the way he had come. Roger and the others followed. Even Hauptman Ritnik forced himself into a staggering jog. Roger felt excitement surge in his veins. He gripped the rifle tightly at the ‘High Port’ and ignored his sore muscles and pounding heart.

  Graham led them through open She-Oak forest North West along the base of the mountain. After a couple of hundred paces Roger could not keep up and slowed to a brisk walk. Peter and Stephen passed him and even Hauptman Ritnik was able to keep up.

  Five minutes later Roger, his heart pumping fit to burst, caught up. The others were lying on a low rise amongst rocks and trees, peering through the grass and foliage at where the roof of the shed was visible. Roger crouched and crept up to join them. He saw that they were about a hundred metres from the shed, in a dip between the mountain and the Rifle Range.

  “There’s one,” Inspector Sharpe whispered, pointing up to the left. Roger looked and saw movement: a partisan. The man was sitting with his back to a tree watching up the steep slope away from them; or would have been if he wasn’t bored and looking at the ants.

  Inspector Sharpe pointed again. “There is another at each end of the Butts Mound. One is looking this way but you can’t see him from here. A third one is facing down the entrance road. There’s a fourth one over beyond the shed. He must be watching back up the valley. I haven’t seen him but the NCO has walked around there when he has been checking that his sentries are alert.”

  “What about the NCO sir?” Peter asked.

  “He seems to spend some time in the shed and the rest checking around outside. He has a radio,” Inspector Sharpe explained. He turned to the partisan sergeant: “What are his orders? What is he to do if there is a rescue attempt?”

  “He is to shoot the princess.”

  “So we need a plan to prevent that happening. We will move back to that gully behind us to talk this over.”

  They crawled back ten metres into dead ground, then moved at a crouch into the bed of a small dry creek. Graham pointed and said: “Pete, you watch back towards the shed, Roger watch back the way we came and Steve, you watch down range.” He crouched, put the rifle down and took out his notebook and a pencil. A minutes rapid sketching produced a rough map of the area.

  Inspector Sharpe looked at each in turn: “Any ideas?”

  Graham nodded. “We need to hit them when the NCO is out checking the sentries,” he said. “He must be our priority target.”

  Inspector Sharpe shook his head. “I don’t want any shooting if it can be avoided. And you cadets will not be involved.”

  “Oh sir! I’m a good shot,” Graham replied.

  “I don’t care how good you are. This is police business, not self preservation like it was yesterday. You will not be taking part,” Inspector Sharpe replied emphatically.

  Roger felt relieved by this decision. He did not wish to shoot anyone. To his surprise Peter objected: “You won’t have enough men then sir.”

  “I propose giving rifles to Prince Peter and Hauptman Ritnik, if they will volunteer and promise not to misuse them. That will give me four; plus the element of surprise.” He turned to Prince Peter. “I must ask for your word of honour sir; that you will only use the weapons on my command to rescue the princess, not for revenge; or to try to escape.”

  “You have it Inspector,” Prince Peter replied.

  “I too can help,” the partisan sergeant said.

  “Yes, you can help. But I am not giving you a gun. Now, we need a plan and quickly. It is nearly midday and we don’t know when this Interrogation Team is due.”

  Roger spoke up: “A decoy sir. Something to get their attention and to lure the NCO out.”

  “Good idea Roger, but what?”

  Graham answered: “Attack from one direction and send in a rescue group from another?”

  “No. No shooting if it can be avoided. It is too risky.”

  “I could call on them to surrender,” the partisan sergeant suggested.

  Inspector Sharpe nodded. “Good idea. Could you order them to move out, or to lay down their weapons?”

  “I think not Comrade, er.. sir. They were given their orders by the Political Officer.”

  There was a pause while they all puzzled over a solution to the problem. Peter spoke first: “Put the ideas together sir. First Roger’s decoy, then, while they are watching the decoy, crawl forward so you have the drop on them and then call on them to surrender. If they shoot then fire back and pin them down while a rescue group goes round the back.”

  Inspector Sharpe looked thoughtful. “Sounds promising. How do we attract their attention? What is the decoy?”

  Graham turned to the partisan sergeant: “Do they know what Australian soldiers look like?”

  “Yes. That is what we thought you were.”

  “If they saw a patrol of Australian soldiers in the distance would they shoot at them?”

  The partisan sergeant shook his head: “No, they would not wish to attract attention to themselves. They would shoot only if discovered or attacked.”

  Graham turned to Inspector Sharpe and pointed to his sketch map. “What if your group crawl forward as close as they can, say up behind this low rise where we just were, or even up the drain beside the range. When you are in a position to see in behind the Butts and to watch the shed door, we four cadets could walk across the Rifle Range half way along, to the Club buildings or caretaker’s hut or whatever they are. We could carry sticks to make it look as though we are armed. If we did it at the three hundred or four hundred metre mound we should be safe enough. Their AK47s are only sighted to three hundred. Then, when the sentries see us and call the NCO out to have a look you creep closer and call on them to surrender. If he tries to run back to murder the princess you could shoot him.”

  Inspector Sharpe nodded. “You are a bloodthirsty bugger CSM Kirk. But it sounds workable. That is what we will do. But I don’t like the idea of you lads walking across a rifle range.”

  Graham snorted derisively. “Oh sir! I’ve seen soldiers firing on a rifle range lots of times. Most of them couldn’t hit the side of a barn!”

  At that DS Crowe chuckled and said, “Don’t forget General Sedgewick at the Battle of Spotsylvania Courthouse.”

  “Eh?” Inspector Sharpe asked puzzled.

  DS Crowe explained, “During the American Civil War sir, 1863 or 4. A Yankee general stood up to study the field and his men told him to keep down. He replied, ‘Nonsense, they couldn’t hit an elephant at that range,’ then Whack! He got it right between the eyes. It’s in my book of Famous Last Words.”

  Inspector Sharpe frowned and snapped, “Enough history thanks. I still don’t like it.”

  “I think it’s a fair risk sir,” Graham said. “Besides, what better plan is there?”

  That stumped them. Hauptman Ritnik nodded. “We can’t waste more time,” he said, “The Special Interrogators will be dangerous communist fanatics. We must act before they arrive.”

  “We could go out and get police reinforcements sir. It must be only a kilometre or so,” Peter suggested.

  Roger saw Inspector Sharpe bite his lip and frown in indecision. Then he shook his head. “No, no time. We must act fast and avoid a hostage situation. We will do it. Now, let’s settle some details and get cracking.”

  Five minutes later, with timings and sign
als agreed on, Roger handed his rifle to Hauptman Ritnik and followed Graham back along the base of the mountain. Graham had given his rifle to Prince Peter. Peter and Stephen followed them.

  Five hundred paces down range they halted. Stephen glanced back and said, “I wonder if those Kosarians will use those rifles to get away?”

  Roger was indignant. “Of course not! The prince gave his word of honour.”

  Stephen curled his lip. “Word of Honour! What a load of crap!”

  “To you maybe!” Roger cried.

  Graham cut in. “Inspector Sharpe trusts them,” he said.

  “I’ll bet they take the opportunity to plug all the partisans they can. I wouldn’t want to be that sergeant who surrendered to us,” Stephen said.

  That annoyed Roger as well. “Inspector Sharpe wouldn’t let them. The sergeant is a prisoner in his care as well,” he answered hotly. Sometimes he was quite offended by Stephen.

  But Stephen persisted. “The Inspector may not be able to do much about it if he gets a 7.62mm through the back of the head,” he commented.

  Peter shook his head. “I’ll bet DS Crowe is keeping an eye on them. And I wouldn’t cross that man,” he put in.

  “Too right!” Graham agreed. “Well, the fifteen minutes is up. Grab a stick and let’s go.”

  They selected sticks which looked roughly like rifles, then walked due north through the trees in single file, ten paces apart. As they got closer to the clearing of the Rifle Range Roger became very tense but despite his fear he kept on walking.

  Graham walked out of the trees, jumped the drain and headed for the huts on the other side at a steady walk. Roger followed. As he scrambled across the drain onto the open ground he was unable to resist a glance to his left. The Rifle Range was covered in short grass, recently mowed. There was no cover at all. Roger tensed, expecting to hear the familiar vicious crack of bullets; or to feel one smashing into his body. Ghastly memories of the carnage he had witnessed the day before made him go cold with fear.

  ‘They couldn’t hit an elephant from that range!’ he thought, chilling at the idea of a bullet smashing into his head. Somehow he kept on walking.

  Everything remained quiet, save for the sounds of distant traffic in the town. Roger glanced behind. Peter and Stephen were following, spaced well apart and pretending to be on patrol. It was only one hundred metres across the range but it seemed much longer. They crossed about half way along, the cleared area extending off on either side for hundreds of metres.

  The sheds were closer with every step. Roger resisted the urge to speed up. Graham actually stopped on the gravel road beside the range and took out his map. He then looked around, beckoning the others to join him.

  “We have to be sure they see us,” he explained.

  After a minute, to Roger’s intense relief, Graham continued walking and they reached the cover of the sheds. The boys went behind a large club building and passed out of sight of the butts mound.

  As they reached cover Peter wiped his brow theatrically. “Whew! Talk about ducks in a shooting gallery,” he said.

  Graham grinned: “That should have the mongrels in a fluster!”

  “Shhh! Listen,” Roger said.

  Very faintly came the sound of a voice.

  Graham listened then nodded. “This is it! They are calling on them to surrender. Get ready to run,” he said. The plan was for them to run away if there was any shooting. They were to go to the nearest houses to call the police. They moved to peer around the corner of the building.

  Graham waved them to move. “There is the partisan sergeant standing in the open. That’s our cue. Let’s go.”

  Led by Graham they began advancing up the gravel road towards the stop butts at a brisk walk, but still spaced well apart. This was to continue the bluff by representing soldiers moving up as reinforcements.

  No shots so far. Had it worked? Was the princess safe? Roger found he was not as frightened as he had expected to be.

  Graham pointed. “Look, they’ve surrendered!”

  A figure had stood up on top of the mound with his hands in the air. Other figures joined him until five stood in a line. They sat down, hands on heads. Inspector Sharpe and DS Crowe walked out of the trees to cover them.

  Roger got a fleeting glimpse of Prince Peter and Hauptman Ritnik running down behind the mound. “I think they have done it,” he said. He felt enormously relieved and walked as fast as he could.

  Three minutes later the boys walked up onto the mound in front of where six partisans sat. Five had their hands on their heads and the sixth, the sergeant, still had his tied behind his back. DS Crowe stood to one side with a sub-machine gun. The partisans stared at them. One began to speak rapidly in Serbo-Croat.

  “Silence!” DS Crowe rapped.

  The partisan sergeant explained. “He is angry because now they see they have been tricked by boys with sticks.”

  Roger suddenly felt foolish and dropped his stick. Peter pretended to unload and make safe first.

  “Wait there cadets,” DS Crowe ordered.

  Inspector Sharpe came around the right hand end of the mound followed by Prince Peter, Hauptman Ritnik and the princess. She was holding on to the Hauptman for support. Roger felt like cheering and looked anxiously to see if she had been harmed. There was no visible sign that she had been mistreated.

  ‘She is beautiful!’ Roger thought. Then he felt a twinge of envy as she kissed Hauptman Ritnik on the cheek and hugged him.

  The group stopped near the boys. Inspector Sharpe indicated them. “Your Royal Highness, these are the cadets who helped rescue you.”

  Graham called out: “Cadets, atten...shun!” He snapped to attention and saluted. Roger stepped over beside Peter and Stephen and stood rigid.

  Prince Peter led the princess over and returned Graham’s salute. “They also saved my life. They are very good little soldiers.”

  Princess Mareena smiled at them. “Thank you very much. You are very brave,” she said.

  ‘What a musical voice! What a beautiful smile!’ Roger thought. He felt quite dazzled by her presence, even though she only wore a muddy Royal Guard uniform and jacket.

  Inspector Sharpe then interrupted. “You must excuse us please, but there is still danger and much to be done. Can I ask you both to sit over there just inside the forest out of sight? Hauptman Ritnik, can you guard their Royal Highnesses please.”

  As the royal party started moving Inspector Sharpe turned to the cadets. “Right, who feels like a run? I want two of you to run out to the nearest house and phone the police. It should be just the other side of those trees at the end of the Rifle Range. Commander Simkin of the Federal Police is the man we want.”

  Peter at once volunteered. “I’ll go sir.”

  “And me,” Graham offered.

  “Me too,” Stephen added.

  “CSM Kirk, you stay. Sergeants Bronsky and Bell, you both go. Get moving!”

  “Yes sir! Here, Roger, mind my jacket,” Peter said as he hauled off his field jacket and thrust it into Roger’s hands. Stephen did likewise. Then both turned and raced away. Roger felt sore just watching them go.

  “What do you want us to do sir?” Graham asked.

  “Nothing for the moment, other than keeping watch in all directions. Do you mind standing out here in the open? Your uniforms will act as a powerful deterrent to any prowling partisans.”

  Roger glanced nervously up the wooded slopes of Mt Baldy. ‘Will a sniper’s bullet suddenly strike me?’ he worried. Then he wondered, ‘Where were the other partisans? And what are they doing?’ He put down the two jackets and realized Peter’s had the captured radio in a pocket. He held it up.

  “Sir, we could turn this on and listen to what the partisans are saying.”

  “Good idea. Better still, DS Crowe send over our Comrade Platoon Administrator,” Inspector Sharpe called.

  The partisan sergeant came over looking very worried. “Yes sir?”

  “I want you t
o turn this radio on. Make contact with your officers and tell them that the prince and princess are both in the safe custody of the police. Also tell them that the Australian Army is now hunting for them and they should come out and surrender to prevent a serious diplomatic incident. Come, we will do it where the prince can hear what you say.”

  “Plis, can you my hands untie?” the partisan sergeant asked.

  “Yes alright. Roger, untie him. Here, CSM, take this rifle,” Inspector Sharpe said. He passed the rifle to Graham, who checked it was on ‘safe’. The Inspector took out his pistol. Roger untied the man’s hands, remembering how much the experience had hurt him the day before.

  Inspector Sharpe then took the radio and motioned the partisan sergeant to walk ahead of him over to where Prince Peter and Princess Mareena sat amongst the trees. Roger noticed that when he got there the man clicked his heels and bowed from the waist.

  Graham nudged Roger. “They might have been Commos for half a century but they still haven’t forgotten how to grovel,” he commented dryly.

  “Can we sit?” Roger asked. He felt overwhelmed by weariness and trembled with reaction.

  “No. We will walk slowly up and down. Play act we are guards,” Graham replied.

  The two friends walked slowly across the mowed grass talking. Roger’s feet and legs really hurt but he said nothing. Minutes ticked past. His stomach grumbled loudly.

  “Strewth I’m hungry. I could eat a horse.”

  “It sounds like you have,” Graham replied with a laugh.

  “Well, it’s twelve forty five. Lunchtime. And I have missed five meals now!” Roger said.

  “So have we all, but you will have to wait. Here, have a drink.”

  “Thanks. Oh look! Here comes a vehicle.”

  A white car had appeared out of the trees at the town end of the Rifle Range.

  “Police car. Thank God for that!” Graham said.

  The car raced up the gravel road and braked to a standstill. Four uniformed police wearing bullet-proof vest and carrying guns scrambled out. Inspector Sharpe walked over towards them, peeling off the shredded remains of the army raincoat as he did.