The Cadet Sergeant Major

by Christopher Cummings

  That task completed Graham returned to Coy HQ. The 2ic, QM, Costigan and Bert Lacey were all busy loading empty jerry cans into a Land Rover. They were heading off for the army camp to refill them; and to arrange rations and stores. As Graham arrived they drove off. Capt Conkey stood up.

  “Right CSM, let us observe the training.”

  The two walked along Sandy Ridge for two hundred metres then down into the wooded hollow where 1 Platoon was training. As they walked Capt Conkey asked, “Well CSM; are there any particular problems I should be aware of?”

  Graham ticked a list off in his mind. He knew the OC’s policy. There were minor problems which should be dealt with by the cadets and which he should never hear about; there were problems which the OC should be aware of but which the cadets should try to solve themselves; and there were important problems which he needed to know about because the officers had to deal with them. Graham could not think of any.

  “Not that I’m aware of sir; except that Sgt Griffin is a blockhead.”

  Capt Conkey sighed. “Poor fellow. Yes he is having some difficulty. But at least he is trying. Besides, who else was there to promote? Swap him with Crane? Promote Cpl Bax, or Cpl Rankin?”

  It was a problem Graham conceded. They joined CUO Sherry and Stephen in the shade of a large ironbark down in the small valley south east of their area. Their three sections were each training under their own trees about a hundred metres apart.

  While Capt Conkey discussed the corporals and their lessons with the CUO Graham drew Stephen to one side.

  “Steve, there is a litter of lolly wrappers in your area. Cpl Hopewell’s section I think.”

  Stephen nodded. Graham felt no difficulty. Stephen was his friend. He might resent the correction but he would also be angry with himself; and he would support him. Stephen pushed his glasses back up his nose. “That is our weakest section. And she is our weakest corporal.”

  The OC and CUO Sherry were also discussing Cpl Hopewell and her section. The two friends joined the discussion.

  CUO Sherry explained, “She’s a lovely girl and she knows her stuff, but she is too nice. She isn’t firm enough; and with little grubs like Willis and Ross that means problems.”

  “And don’t forget Cadet Dibble,” Stephen added.

  CUO Sherry gave a theatrical sigh. “Yes! I was just telling the OC about him.” She saw Graham’s quizzical glance and explained. “He wants to go home. ‘I’m not ready for this!’ he blubbered to me. The bloody great sook! Yesterday afternoon that was. Day One! I put him off. He cried half the night like a bloody great baby. Then he was at me first thing this morning; and again at lunch time. He’s been wanting to see the OC but so far I’ve stopped that.”

  Graham scanned Cpl Hopewell’s section. “Is he that big fellow with the tubby guts and fleshy face?”

  “Yes.”

  Graham shook his head. ‘He looks weak,’ he thought. ‘In character that is. He should be strong enough physically.’

  Stephen took up the tale. “He whimpered to me that it was the first time in his whole life that he had been away from his mother and father overnight.”

  Capt Conkey shook his head. “Why the devil did he join the army cadets!” he muttered.

  “Did he bring his ‘Teddy’?” Graham asked. He was not impressed.

  They all laughed. CUO Sherry replied. “Fair go CSM. I miss my Teddy too!”

  “Send Dibble to me next time,” Graham commented. “You might put him on your latrine digging detail next time Steve.”

  “No. You wanted Hodgins especially. And I wanted the job done today,” Stephen replied. They all laughed again. Graham saw Cadet Dibble turn and look at them. The boy looked very long-faced and miserable, even from a distance.

  The sections completed a lesson on ‘Field Signals’, then gathered in the shade of their respective trees for a ten minute break.

  “Let’s go and talk to them,” Capt Conkey said. “But not Cpl Hopewell’s section. I don’t wish to meet Cadet Dibble just yet.”

  The group walked over to Cpl Lofty Ward’s section. They stood up as the OC approached.

  “Stand easy,” Capt Conkey told them. “Well cadets, how are things going?”

  He began to chat to the cadets. Graham looked around then spoke to Cpl Ward. “Where’s LCpl Werribee Cpl Ward?”

  “’Wobbles’? She’s in command of the dunny digging detail. They should be back soon. In fact, here they come now,” Cpl Ward replied, pointing through the trees towards the camp.

  Even at two hundred metres Graham could tell which of the four approaching cadets was ‘Wobbles’ Werribee. She not only had broad hips and a slim waist but had the biggest bosom in the whole company; and when she walked she did wobble. Graham knew she was the butt of much teasing about it, in spite of the unit being frequently cautioned about sexual harassment. He knew that Wendy was very self-conscious about it. Being a teenage boy he was fascinated by her.

  “Yes, I see. And please don’t use that nickname for her,” he chided Cpl Ward quietly.

  “What? ‘Wobbles’?” Cpl Ward replied. “She doesn’t mind.”

  “She doesn’t mind SIR,” Graham said. “And I think you will find that she does. I have been informed she finds it highly embarrassing.”

  “Yes sir,” Cpl Ward replied stiffly.

  Graham did not enjoy correcting Cpl Ward. ‘Lofty will make a good sergeant next year. He should even make CUO. But he had better not play up with Wendy or his career will be short,’ he considered. There were already rumours and Graham hoped Lofty would be sensible.

  LCpl Werribee and her work party joined them. Graham couldn’t help eyeing the front of her jacket. ‘Holy Moses, they are big! And they do wobble! I wonder.......’ He stopped himself.

  LCpl Werribee reported to Stephen, “Dunny’s dug Sgt Bell.”

  Hodgins gave a cheeky grin. “Deep enough for you to hide in CSM,” he added. This brought a laugh and made Graham blush.

  When the next lesson began Capt Conkey led the way down across the gully and up onto the wide, gentle ridge which ran down to the highway. 2 Platoon was training there: revising ‘Patrol Formations’. Graham and the OC joined CUO Grenfell and Sgt Copeland.

  Graham liked and admired both. Two years before, when Graham had been a First Year, Grenfell had been his section corporal; and a very good one. He had provided a role model at a critical time when Graham had needed help to steady him and give him direction. The previous year, when Graham had been a section commander, Grenfell had been his platoon sergeant. Now he was a CUO. Privately Graham considered him the best in the unit. He would have laughed at any suggestion of ‘hero-worship’ in his attitude, but it was there.

  Gwen Copeland had been a Lance Corporal when Graham had joined and was his section 2ic. Last year she had been a section corporal, also in 2 Platoon with Graham. Now she was CUO Grenfell’s platoon sergeant. So Graham had caught up and passed her in rank but he had not detected any resentment. They liked and respected each other. ‘She’s a very good sergeant and she’s going to be a real lady. She’s got brains, charm and good looks. She should make CUO next year,’ was his summing up.

  While he and Gwen were friends and he thought her very attractive Graham had the good sense not to develop a ‘crush’ over her. Instinctively he sensed she was not his type,

  ‘But she might be!’ he thought, as his gaze settled on Cpl Barbara Brassington. ‘That red hair glinting in the sunlight like polished copper! Those fiery green eyes! Those lovely long legs! And Oh! Those delectable big breasts!’ He sighed unconsciously. Then his eye ran over the others in the section. What he saw caused him a wry smile.

  ‘There’s my girl!’

  Cheerful, tubby, freckle-faced little Margaret Lake. She was smiling hopefully at him, even from fifty metres away. Graham returned her smile. He couldn’t help it. ‘She is a nice kid,’ he mused. He knew that he was the main reason Margaret was in the cadets. Margaret was the best friend of Graham’s little
sister Kylie and had openly adored him for years. She was two years younger and was in Year 9.

  Graham and the OC talked to CUO Grenfell and Sgt Copeland for fifteen minutes before strolling on to visit 3 Platoon. To get there they skirted the top end of the gully near the 2 Platoon bivouac area. As they walked along Graham noticed movement in the bushes a hundred metres down the gully. Voices and laughter gave a clue to what might be going on.

  “Excuse me sir, I’ll just make a detour down to see how work on that latrine is coming along,” Graham said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Capt Conkey replied.

  “I would prefer that you didn’t sir,” Graham replied in a formal voice. “I suspect this may be strictly CSM’s business at this stage. I will meet you at 3 Platoon.”

  “Oh! Oh yes. Righto CSM. Carry on,” Capt Conkey replied. He walked on.

  Graham turned off along a cattle pad which led down through a belt of stunted mulga trees and prickly bushes. ‘Just as I thought; Headquarters telling jokes instead of working,’ he thought. From fifty paces away he could hear LCpl Henning telling a crude joke. Graham walked into a small clearing of bare, red soil and stopped in surprise. Sitting in the shade were LCpl Henning, LCpl Parnell and LCpl Allen. Standing in the partially dug latrine was Cadet Denton. But it wasn’t the fact that Denton was actually wielding a pick which made Graham gape in astonishment, although the sight of her working was unusual. It was the fact that she had, like the two boys, discarded her shirt. She only wore trousers and a bra. As she swung the pick her large and pendulous breasts bobbled and quivered, to the obvious entertainment of the others.

  There was shocked silence from the group. For a moment Graham was at a loss what to say. Then anger gave him words. “Cadet Denton, put your shirt on! Lance Corporal Henning, stop that filth in the presence of ladies (‘Ladies!’ he thought grimly, noting the mottle of shame mounting Leah Allen’s cheeks). Get up you NCOs!”

  They scrambled to their feet. Denton scuttled to her shirt and pulled it on. She began to button it up with trembling fingers. “It’s alright sir,” she cried. “They can’t see anymore than they do at the swimming pool.”

  “That’s not the point! There’s a time and a place; and this is NOT the time, nor the place. It will just get the boys aroused and cause tensions and problems. So don’t give them anything for their piggy little minds to work on. (Not well chosen that word ‘piggy’, he thought).”

  Denton pouted. “But it’s too hot!” she grumbled. But she continued to do up the buttons.

  “That will do! You report back to Sgt Bronsky. Now, you three lance corporals, I am depriving you of your sole subordinate. Instead you can take equal turns. You will have this latrine dug within half an hour,” Graham growled. He made a point of consulting his watch before continuing. “One of you then find me and report. The other two return to your training. Now get on with it. You first LCpl Henning!”

  With that Graham turned and strode away, pushing through the bushes. He was annoyed with himself for not having checked earlier. He was also a bit put out that Peter hadn’t either.

  “It’s not like him to let that happen,” he muttered as he took a short cut across a gully. “Three lance corporals and only one cadet in a work party. It should be the other way round.” Then it struck him. Denton was the only ‘Cadet’ in HQ. Usually there were two or three in Signals and three or four in the Medics.

  “The OC was right. This hasn’t been a good year. We need a successful camp to improve recruiting.”

  Graham caught up with Capt Conkey at 3 Platoon. He was talking to CUO Warren White and Sgt Brown. The topic of discussion was another ‘Problem child’: Cadet Clayfield.

  “What does he do?” Graham asked.

  “What doesn’t he do!” CUO White exploded. “The dirty little grub! He wet his pants on the bus during the journey here. Last night he did a big crap right beside his hutchie- just left it lying there like a bloody land mine! During the night he pissed himself. He was sleeping in his uniform; and was too lazy to even get out of his sleeping bag.”

  The CUO snorted with indignation. “Then, this morning, on the Navex, he wet himself again. He said it was because there was no toilet! And he had a thousand square kilometres of bloody bush to hide in if he was shy!” Angrily he flung his arms out expressively. “Now he has just crapped in his pants during a lesson. I’ve sent him to change; and to wash his clothes.”

  “What’s his problem? Is it medical?” Capt Conkey asked.

  “I’ll be his problem if he keeps it up,” CUO White grated angrily. “He says it is a medical condition sir; and that he is scared because he has never been away from his home before in his entire life.”

  “How old is he?” Capt Conkey asked.

  Graham answered. “Thirteen Sir.”

  Capt Conkey shook his head. “Why do parents do that? And why do kids like that join the cadets? What do they think it will be like? Oh well; we will just have to do what we can to help him. Any ideas?”

  CUO White shrugged. “Well sir, no-one else will share a hutchie with him now, so he’s on his own as an outcast. It has caused a real problem in that section,” he said.

  Sgt Brown nodded. “A real ‘shame job’,” he added gloomily.

  Capt Conkey looked thoughtful. “Alright, send him over to Lt Standish and she can talk to him,” he decided.

  OC and CSM walked on to 4 Platoon. Then they moved to where the six ‘Control Group’ members were waiting. Cpl Clyde was sent to collect LCpl Henning and LCpl Parnell. With Graham added to their numbers this gave a 9 strong section. Capt Conkey began talking them through a series of demonstrations of infantry minor tactics that were to be shown to the company in two days time.

  First Sgt Crane and Cpl Rankin did ‘Two man fire and movement’. Then the whole squad practiced how to do a ‘Contact Drill’ with Graham acting as the section commander. Next they went through two variations of ‘section fire and movement’. Capt Conkey walked them through each move then rehearsed them at the run several times until they had it right. In the process they got all sweaty and dirty. Graham thoroughly enjoyed himself. It aroused his fighting spirit and fed his warrior’s pride.

  ‘I’d love to have a real go,’ he thought as he crawled into a fire position. ‘Just to see if I’m good enough.’ He mulled that over for a few minutes, sprinted forward on command and went to ground again. ‘Will I be scared?’ he wondered. Yes. He knew he would be. He had been shot at before. Sharp memories of exchanging shots with the Kosarian Partisans in the mountains west of Atherton in June came to him. He made a wry grin at those memories. ‘No, I’ll be alright. I won’t run; and I’ll be able to keep on doing a good job. I know it,’ he thought with satisfaction.

  He decided this with the certainty of past experience. It made him feel almost arrogantly self-confident. He also glimpsed briefly a more unpleasant side to his nature- that he might possibly revel in the cruel joy of battle. Then he shrugged; and thrust the introspection aside.

  At the end of the training session the group marched back to camp, grimy and sore; but hot and happy. This was what they joined the cadets to do! Their muscles and bodies were a bit strained because they were still making the transition from being school students to soldiering but they were pleased with themselves.

  Back at the hutchies the first person Graham noticed was Allison. She gave him a sparkling smile. He smiled back and knew that his heart had just done a double flip. To hide his feelings he took out a waterbottle and shook it. Almost empty. He drained it, then extracted a second and had a big drink.

  ‘I’d better fill these straight away,’ he decided. He walked over to the nearest water jerry.

  Empty!

  “Corporal Henning. Get another jerry can for Headquarters. And take this one and put it with the other empties,” he ordered.

  “Yes sir.”

  Graham stood and looked around. He noted several groups of cadets converging on HQ. “You cadets without webbing go ba
ck and get it,” he bellowed. “Don’t walk around the bush without webbing. Carry it everywhere.”

  “But Sir, we have to carry a jerry can!” wailed Cadet Carleton.

  “Too bad! Good muscle development. And girls aren’t to carry jerry cans,” Graham replied. He walked over to where a cluster of cadets were grouped around the row of full jerry cans.

  “Don’t fill your waterbottles here. Take the jerrycan back to your platoon area,” he directed.

  “Yes sir,” came the grumbled replies.

  “Hello Sergeant Major. How are you?” said a familiar voice.

  It was Margaret. She carried two waterbottles and was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Hello Cadet Lake. You look a bit sunburnt. Are you enjoying yourself?” Graham replied. He was exasperated but hid his annoyance. She was too nice a person to hurt; and had been through too many adventures with him. Besides, her enthusiasm was infectious. So they stood and talked. Graham was uncomfortably aware that they were in full view of HQ. ‘I wish Margaret would go. If Allison sees us she might get the wrong impression,’ he thought.

  Margaret’s companion struggled over with a full jerrycan and grunted impatiently. She gave a cheery “See you later,” and walked off.

  “CSM!” came Lt Maclaren’s voice.

  “Sir?”

  “Have a full jerry brought over here for the officers.”

  “Sir! OK Cadet Tully. You are the lucky volunteer. That jerrycan there; over to the officers,” Graham said, detailing the nearest cadet. He took Tully’s waterbottle and walked with him over to where the officers sat.

  “Just there Cadet Tully. Thank you. Here’s your waterbottle. Put it in your webbing.”

  Capt Conkey looked up from some paperwork. “Thanks CSM. I see your little girl looking very grimy but chirpy.”

  Graham’s mind raced, exploring the possible meanings in what the OC had said. He decided there was no hidden warning or rebuke- just a natural acceptance that Margaret was his girl- they were often together back at school; it being entirely normal for a Year 11 boy to have a Year 9 girlfriend.