Graham waited till the shuffling stopped. “Company!” He paused and ran his eyes over them. “Don’t anticipate the order! Stand still till I give the executive word of command. Company....Right... dress!”
Graham could see cadets mumbling under their breath but he didn’t care. He wasn’t interested in popularity. ‘I’m the sergeant major. My job is discipline,’ he told himself.
“Company, Eyes front! Stand at...Ease! Platoon sergeants, mark the roll.”
The sergeants snapped to attention, except Brown who did it lazily- Graham noting this. They called, “Sir!”, about turned and faced their platoons. Roll books were extracted from pockets and they began calling names. Graham looked along the line.
“What is the problem Sgt Griffin?”
Griffin looked foolish and flustered. “I left my roll book in my hutchie CSM.”
“Go and get it. Double! Silence in the ranks!”
Griffin doubled away. Smirks appeared on the faces of his cadets and several snickered. Graham glared at them. ‘Bloody fool!’ he thought.
Once the roll marking was complete and each sergeant was again facing the front ‘At ease’ Graham took out his notebook and a pencil and called for reports, a platoon at a time. As each sergeant reported their numbers Graham wrote them down and did a running total down the side. This reached 109. He checked the figures again.
‘None missing or absent. Good.’ It had been known to happen and was one of his chief worries. He put the notebook and pencil away.
“Now everyone who was issued with a radio or compass check that you have the correct ones. Check the numbers on them. Platoon sergeants count the radios and compasses in your platoon,” Graham said. Every section commander had been issued with both and they belonged to the unit, not the army.
Graham checked the time. Nearly twenty past six. ‘Ten minutes longer than I should take,’ he noted irritably, angry with himself. He glanced across at the officer’s camp and noted the cluster of OOCs and CUOs sitting or standing around the fire. At Graham’s call the platoon sergeants reported that there were no radios or compasses missing. He said, “Good. Any sick can report to the medics as soon as you are fallen out. Remember you have inspections at 0730: Hygiene and gear. Platoon sergeants there are still two latrines to dig. I will show you where. You provide me with a work party of one lance corporal and two diggers. Company parade is at 0800 here. Platoon sergeants, carry on!”
Graham stood and watched as the platoon sergeants marched their platoons away. Sgt Griffin waited till HQ was gone but then, instead of turning them left, as the easiest way to get them back to their area, he turned them right. This wouldn’t have been so obvious if he had then ordered ‘quick march and ‘right wheel’ as that would have put the corporals at the front, which was normal. Instead he ordered an ‘about turn.’
From among the ranks of 4 Platoon came an aggrieved, “Make up yer bloody mind!”
Graham could not identify the culprit but he snarled, “Silence in the ranks!”
Sgt Griffin gave him a sheepish look and then got the platoon marching.
Graham groaned inwardly. ‘Bloody drongo!’ he thought. Shaking his head he turned and marched towards the officer’s camp. The check parade had been entirely his business. The officers and CUOs were not involved. They sat or stood around the fire. Graham marched up to Capt Conkey. Being ‘in the field’ he did not salute.
“All present sir. No radios or compasses missing and no sick.”
“Very good CSM,” Capt Conkey replied with a cheerful grin. “Carry on.”
“Company Roll please sir,” Graham asked, still standing stiffly to attention.
Capt Conkey was busy describing an incident with Sgt Griffin during a bivouac earlier in the year. He pointed with a cup of coffee. “My briefcase CSM.”
Graham extracted the roll book and sat on a log to mark it. While he did he listened to the story. Capt Conkey continued in his hearing because Griffin was of a lower rank and therefore the CSM’s business. The story confirmed everything Graham thought about Griffin.
As soon as he had marked the roll Graham went on his way, leaving the officers to talk. Normally he liked to sit and listen to their stories and discussions but at that moment he had too much to do. He liked the officers. They were not like normal army officers. They were Officers of Cadets, although the OC, 2ic and QM had been, or were, officers of the Army Reserve. All were teachers who ran the cadet unit as a part-time, mostly unpaid ‘extra’.
Graham did not linger. He marched over to where HQ sat in a circle having breakfast.
“What have we got?”
“Vienna sausage, potatoes and peas,” Peter replied. Graham quickly hauled out his stove and mess tins. He poured water into a mess tin, then struck a match and lit the half block of hexamine in the stove. It flared into flame and Graham smiled. He knew he did this every time because the smell of hexamine conjured up thoughts of food and warm drink; and many happy memories. ‘Like that bloody Russian’s dog that salivated every time it heard a bell. That’s me and hexamine,’ he thought. Still smiling he placed the mess tin of water on to heat.
Peter passed him food tins. Graham spooned his share into the other mess tin. Coffee and sugar were added to his Cup Canteen Steel. He quickly prepared the hot drink and food, listening to the cheerful banter of the others but not joining in. His mind was too busy planning his day.
Graham ate quickly, heating more water as he did. This was for shaving. He was proud of needing to shave. It made him feel very manly. He shaved by feel, using warm soapy water from the mess tin as lather. The fingers of his left hand felt for the stubble and his other hand wielded the razor.
As he shaved Graham felt someone’s eyes on him. He looked up and his gaze met Allison’s. She smiled. He smiled back and felt his heart bound. ‘Bright Eyes likes me!’ he thought happily. Boosted by that he went on shaving, conscious of her gaze but pretending not to be. He washed the soap off, dried his face on a hand towel, washed and dried his mess gear, then packed everything away in his webbing.
That done Graham sat on the pack and extracted boot polish and brushes. He set to work on his dusty, grass-scuffed boots. Peter was busy packing up beside him. Graham said, “You didn’t sleep very well last night Pete.”
Peter grunted; then said, “No, I didn’t dig a hip-hole. I was uncomfortable.”
“Make sure HQ has its waterbottles filled before parade. They are going straight on to this ‘Escape and Evasion’ exercise after it.”
“I will.”
Graham stowed his pack, filled his own waterbottles from a nearby jerry can, brushed his teeth, cleaned his fingernails and ran a comb through his hair. He noted a couple of empty tins left over from breakfast still not in the rubbish bag and drew Peter’s attention to them. Outside the next hutchie Allison sat while Kate braided her hair. Allison looked up and smiled. He smiled back; then turned away, annoyed with himself.
‘Weakling! Don’t fall for every pretty face you see!’ he told himself. Again he checked the time: 0725. He marched off to inspect the area. The track Graham took led towards an old gravel pit near the highway. It went between the 2 Pl area and 3 Pl. As he passed he observed Roger trying to line his section up for inspection.
‘Poor old Roger!’ he thought. ‘How did he end up with that bunch of lazy little grubs: Anderson, Arthur, Walsh, Skolaz and Lazarus!’ He shook his head and walked on. Roger could cope.
On both sides of the vehicle track were a series of small gullies. Graham tramped up and down these for twenty minutes selecting sites for latrines. All the time he kept his eye on the time. At 0740 he headed back to camp.
The particular gully he followed led up to where 4 Pl were bivouacked. The first thing he noticed was Cpl Scott, a thin, pasty -faced Year 11, losing his temper and angrily berating Cadet Bragg. Bragg was a tall, gangling simpleton whose chief asset was his sister. He had been in Graham’s section the previous year but had not been promoted. ‘Bragg is enough to try anyone’s pati
ence,’ he thought. ‘But Scott needs to learn to control himself. Abuse won’t win any leadership struggle.’ He detoured and called Cpl Scott over. After a few quite words of advice he went on his way.
Graham marched over to where the platoon commander, CUO Coralie Bates, a tall brunette with freckles, was inspecting Cpl Doyle’s section. She was quietly grilling two sulky looking girls that had already acquired the nickname throughout the unit of ‘The Two Tarts’. Sgt Griffin stood behind the platoon commander, notebook and pencil ready. Graham halted and waited. Inwardly he groaned. ‘What on earth possessed these two girls to join the cadets?’ he wondered. They obviously hated taking orders and weren’t interested in soldiering. ‘Are they really tarts? Did they join up to be with the boys?’ he speculated. ‘I hope not. We don’t want any trouble,’ he thought. He resolved to keep an eagle-eye on the pair.
As soon as the CUO stopped speaking Graham stepped forward. “Excuse me Ma’am,” he said.
“Yes CSM?”
“Pardon me but could you please hurry your inspection along? The OC wants the company on parade at 0800. That’s only five minutes from now.”
“Yes CSM.”
“Thank you Ma’am,” Graham said. He turned and strode off towards 3 Pl. From a distance he saw that CUO White had finished his inspection so he called, “Sgt Brown! Move your platoon over to the parade ground now.”
“Yes CSM.”
Graham checked his watch. ‘I will have to be less tactful with the other platoons.’ He marched to his position on the ‘parade ground’ then halted and yelled, “Platoon sergeants! Get your platoons on parade now! Move!”
He could see that 1 Platoon commander was still inspecting but she immediately stopped and handed over to Stephen who began forming the platoon up in three ranks. Bellowing and shouting broke out in all the platoon areas. Graham noted that Stephen formed his platoon up in three files with the corporals at the rear so they were already facing the way they had to go and were in the order they would be on parade. A single command set them marching. ‘Cunning dog!’ he grunted.
On the other hand Sgt Griffin formed 4 Platoon up on a right marker and then had to turn them. Because of the way he had been facing this put his corporals at the rear as well, but meant they would be at the wrong end when he halted them on the parade ground. Griffin only realized this as they approached their position. He got all flustered, tried to wheel them round but misjudged the distance and had to halt them rather than collide with HQ.
This brought murmurings and jeers both from HQ and 4 Platoon. Griffin went red with embarrassment and rubbed his nose. To Graham’s astonishment he ordered the platoon to ‘about turn’ and ‘quick march’. This set them in motion away from the parade ground but with the corporals leading. Griffin again tried to wheel them round but again miscalculated and sent them off across the front of 3 Platoon, which was also marching towards the parade ground. Sgt Brown ordered his platoon to halt to avoid a collision. Graham tried to mask his contempt.
Sgt Brown was less polite, as he had every right to be when Griffin’s troops marched through between himself and his own cadets.
“Gawd you are a drongo Griffin!” he jeered.
Griffin flapped his arms and tried to explain to Brown, then realized the platoon was getting away from him again and were about to collide with HQ. “Halt!” he shrieked. Peter stood watching with his hands on his hips. He shook his head sadly. Grins, snickers and jeers indicated what the cadet’s opinions of all this were. Griffin stood and looked around in indecision.
Graham saved him by calling, “Sgt Griffin, fall them out and form them up again on a marker. Sgt Brown, get that shambling mob you call a platoon into step.”
“Yes sir. Get in step 3 Platoon,” Brown shouted angrily. “Left, Left, Left, Right, Left. Stoneman, get in step!”
At length all sub-units were lined up along the vehicle track. Graham made a play of looking at his watch. “Not good enough! Seven minutes late! You cadets get more organized and be ready on time,” he growled. ‘Sergeants too!’ he thought, but he did not say. He dressed the company and had the sergeants number their cadets. This was just a quick check to ensure they were still all present. Graham then called for reports and added up the numbers. While he was doing this he was conscious that the officers and CUOs were lining up on the notional ‘edge’ of the parade ground behind him.
None absent. None sick. Graham ran his eyes slowly over the company. The cadets were wearing ‘Patrol Order’: camouflage uniforms, cloth bush hats and basic webbing. The medics had their First Aid Kits and the signallers their radios.
“Get the buckles of the basic webbing done up. Don’t rest your arms on the basic pouches on parade. Sergeants get your corporals to check by tomorrow that all this webbing is assembled correctly and that it is adjusted to fit. Now, stop moving and stand still. You! Cadet Smart, face the front and stop whispering! Leave the flies alone, you’ve had breakfast.”
It was an old one but it still raised a few grins. Satisfied, Graham did an about turn and stood ‘at ease’. Facing him ten metres away were the OC and 2ic. In line with then, and in front of their own platoons, stood the four CUOs. The other officers stood off to one side.
The 2ic marched on and took over the parade. Graham reported the number present. The 2ic nodded. “Good CSM. Take post.”
Graham did an about turn and marched through the gap between 2 and 3 Platoons. He halted three paces in rear of 3 Platoon’s rear rank, one file to the right of centre (leaving room for the Pl Sgt). Staff Sgt Costigan stood one pace to the left of centre. Graham faced the front and stood at ease.
The 2ic ‘posted’ the platoon commanders. The CUOs came to attention, marched forward and took over from their platoon sergeants who marched around to the centre rear of their platoons. This put Sgt Brown between Graham and Costigan.
The 2ic then handed over to Capt Conkey. The OC spoke briefly, thanked them for being well behaved on their first night, reminded them about heat exhaustion and the need to drink plenty of water; and to obey the safety rules. He then said, “Four Platoon, HQ and Control Group stand fast. One, Two and Three platoons move your cadets into the shade of the big tree behind you. CUOs and Sgts then report to Lt Maclaren. CSM and CQ fall out. Carry on!”
Graham snapped to attention. “Sir!” Training had begun.
CHAPTER 5
EVASION EXERCISE
“What’s happening now Peter?” Kate asked.
Peter turned to face her; annoyed that she had used his first name rather than the correct title of ‘Sgt Bronsky’. ‘I must tell her not to do that,’ he thought. But he knew he was being weak in not correcting her there and then; especially with ‘Big Ears’ Denton listening. He replied, “We march down to the Canning River for an ‘Escape and Evasion’ exercise.”
“What’s that? Is it like the one we did last year?” Kate asked.
‘Hasn’t she got lovely eyes!’ Peter thought. He knew he was gazing at her and tried not to. “Yes. While the OC briefs the ‘First Years’ for a Navex we walk to the river. He will then come and brief us. We will have to navigate cross-country to some place he will nominate. The First Year sections will be zig-zagging all over the place on compass bearings looking for us. We must also avoid the checkpoints which will be the officers, CUOs and Sergeants. Now we had better get a move on or we will be late. There goes Four Platoon now.”
“Why do we have to walk?” asked Denton on a sulky voice. She had forgotten to refill her waterbottles which was why HQ was still there.
“Because we don’t have a truck. Now hurry up!” Peter snapped. “Come on HQ. Let’s go.” Peter started walking. Denton grumbled something about using the Land Rovers and was left to hurriedly finish screwing caps back on the plastic water ‘Jerry’.
Kate fell into step beside Peter. The others followed. Peter led them along the vehicle track towards the Canning Road. He hitched his webbing around to settle it more comfortably then rested his arms on the basic
pouches.
“Is it far Peter?” Kate asked.
‘Peter! Again.’ Peter felt a flush of annoyance. “No. It’s only about two kilometres. Look Kate, don’t call me Peter please, not in front of the other cadets.”
“I didn’t call you Peter Please. I only called you Peter,” Kate replied, her mouth dimpling impishly.
He looked at her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. There was laughter in her eyes- and something else. Peter wasn’t sure. Was it mischief? He shook his head remembering what they were told on every Promotion Course. ‘Fair, Firm, Friendly but NOT Familiar. You can’t have favourites and be fair. It divides the team. It is unmilitary. And familiarity breeds contempt. That undermines discipline.’
Peter squirmed inside. He knew all that; and his instinct told him it was true. But other instincts he was never previously conscious of were coming into play. He was aware that powerful emotions were stirring. ‘I like her calling me Peter,’ he admitted to himself.
‘She likes me!’ he thought happily as they turned right onto the Canning Road and headed north down a long, gentle slope. He found that being the object of a girl’s interest was a pleasant new experience. ‘And I think she is beautiful,’ he told himself.
After a hundred paces Peter looked back. HQ was straggling over 50 metres of road. “Catch up you lot at the back. Cpl Lacey! Cadet Denton! Walk faster!”
He got them together in single file on the right of the road and began to call the step. To make sure he dropped back so that he was behind, and to one side of, the last person. This way he could see them all. In the distance, at the bottom of the slope, he could see 4 Platoon, also in single file. Everyone began to sweat. Their boots stirred up the dust.
“I’m hot,” grumbled Denton. “Can’t we stop for a rest?”
“No, we will be late if we do,” Peter said. He glanced at the sky. Not a cloud to be seen.
As they passed a road junction near the bottom of the slope Denton began complaining again. “I need to stop. I’m getting blisters.”
The Cadet Sergeant Major Page 5