The Cadet Sergeant Major

by Christopher Cummings

  * * * *

  Graham had the opposite problem. He was very aware that Allison was giving him the glad eye. He could feel the pressure. It massaged his ego; for he fancied himself as a bit of a lad when it came to the girls (and compared to Peter he was vastly more experienced). Her glances started fantasies which made him very randy. He was so happy he walked around humming and smiling while he organized the evening mess parade.

  During the meal Graham sat beside Allison. She frequently met his eyes and smiled. He marvelled how bright her eyes were. They seemed to sparkle. He returned her glances and smiled. Life was good.

  As soon as the meal was over HQ was involved in a bustle of activities to clean up. Lt Hamilton and the two Q ‘Wallahs’ headed off in their Rover with the empties. HQ returned to its hutchies. The platoons formed up, some sections well camouflaged with blackened faces and hands. They filed quietly off into the gathering dusk.

  Graham collected his webbing and a jacket, filled his waterbottles, then called HQ and the Control Group together. Lt Maclaren squashed half of the group into his Land Rover and drove off to the Canning Causeway. Capt Conkey and Graham joined Peter’s group and they set off on foot along the Sandy Ridge track. Lt Standish was left at the officer’s fire with three sick cadets. Graham had suggested Peter could stay with them but he had insisted he wasn’t that sick.

  Once again it was a clear, star-studded night. There was the hint of a chill in the air but the walking kept them warm. They walked in silence out to the Canning Road. Once there they turned left and proceeded in the direction of the highway. Peter came last, as the sergeant should. He noted that Kate was up the front. As they passed the top of The Gully his stomach churned again.

  Fifteen minutes brisk walk brought them to the cattle grid near the Highway. The OC told them to sit and allowed them to talk quietly. Graham remained standing and talked to Peter. Peter found it very hard to relax and to carry on a normal conversation. The whole time he was being racked by guilt. He was also wondering what Kate was thinking and feeling. He could just see her in the starlight sitting with the other girls.

  Time dragged slowly. The patrols had until 1930 to get into position. All the ‘enemy’ were grouped clear of the area well before then.

  A Land Rover turned off the highway and stopped. Lt Hamilton climbed out along with Costigan and Bert Lacey. The QM’s Rover would remain there as Safety vehicle at this end of the exercise area. He reported to Capt Conkey. “Has Cadet Dibble gone sir? Has his father picked him up?”

  Capt Conkey grunted. “Hummpf! Yes. He phoned me about an hour ago.”

  “Did the father say anything?”

  Capt Conkey shook his head. “Not really; just apologized. I think he was pretty embarrassed. I know I would be if I had a son who let me down like that.”

  “Yes,” Lt Hamilton agreed.

  They stood in silence for a minute. Graham wondered how he might feel if he ever became a father. ‘And I really hope I do,’ he thought. For a fleeting second he has an image of a mother and baby in his mind- but it was not Allison’s face in the image but Margaret’s. Graham sighed.

  The radio crackled. The other groups were ready at the Canning Causeway. Capt Conkey checked his watch. Ten minutes yet. They gossiped. Graham fantasized. Peter writhed with remorse. Several large road-trains roared past along the highway. A cool breeze sprang up.

  Graham turned to Peter. “How are you feeling now mate? Any better?”

  “Yeah. I’m OK,” Peter muttered.

  Obviously he wasn’t but Graham didn’t probe further. ‘If it’s important he will tell me,’ he reasoned, well aware that Peter wasn’t his normal self.

  Capt Conkey checked his watch. “OK. Act One. ‘The wounded soldier and the medics’. Off you go.”

  The three girls stood up and began walking towards the Canning, Denton in the middle pretending to be wounded. She uttered loud groans while the others re-assured her.

  Graham smiled. “Denton does that well,” he whispered to Peter.

  “She should!” Peter replied. “She does enough moaning the rest of the time!”

  The officers overheard this and chuckled. Capt Conkey used his pencil torch to check his notebook. Someone bumped into Graham. He glanced and saw that it was Allison. She was talking to Kate.

  ‘Was that accidental?’ Graham wondered. Then Allison gently pressed her elbow against his. ‘No it isn’t!’ he thought. ‘Holy Mackerel, I’m glad it is dark!’

  Capt Conkey spoke. Graham gave a guilty start.

  “Next act. The two runners. That’s you CQ and Corporal Storeman. Off you go.”

  Five minutes passed. Allison nudged Graham twice more. He nudged her in return. She flashed a smile, visible in the lights of a car on the highway. There was no traffic on the Canning Road.

  “Next group,” Capt Conkey ordered.

  That was Lt McEwen, Kate, Allison and LCpl Henning with an army backpack radio. They were to represent a patrol with the radio chattering while they walked. As the group formed up Allison bumped against Graham again. He nudged her back. Then she moved on after the others. They vanished into the darkness, four shapes slightly blacker than the dirt road.

  CHAPTER 17

  NIGHT EXERCISE

  Graham stretched and breathed in deeply. He felt fit and happy. The air was just cold enough to be fresh. He snuggled into his field jacket and thought pleasurable thoughts about Allison. ‘She likes me,’ he decided. ‘Oooh! I’d like to get her alone somewhere! What a pity...’ But he knew he wasn’t in love with Allison. ‘She would be nice though,’ he thought, smiling again.

  “What are you grinning at CSM?” Capt Conkey asked. He had his torch on, checking his notebook.

  “Oh. Nothing sir,” Graham replied with a guilty start.

  “Nothing eh? She must be nice.”

  Graham laughed. “She is. I think.”

  “I’m glad you only think. Hello, who is this?”

  Two figures came thudding down the road. It was Sgt Crane and Cpl Bax, acting as ‘enemy runners’. Capt Conkey told them to sit and wait.

  “OK Sgt Bronsky, you and Cpl Parnell get going.”

  “Yes sir.” Peter stepped forward. He and Parnell were to represent two ‘Walking Wounded’ on their way back to the Aid Post. Peter did not want to be alone with Parnell but said nothing. Graham wished him well, quite unaware of his friend’s misery. The pair set off.

  More time went by. Cpl Clyde and LCpl Martin arrived, acting as two drunks returning from leave. It was then Graham’s turn. He and Capt Conkey set off acting as a Prisoner of War and his guard. Graham was the guard.

  As they walked Graham continually insulted his ‘prisoner’. He pretended to beat him. Capt Conkey moaned and pleaded for mercy. The OC was a real ham actor and changed to trying to bribe his guard to let him go; then whined he was too tired or too sick to walk any further; then demanded his rights before angrily insulting the enemy army; giving Graham an excuse to pretend to prod him with his non-existent bayonet. Graham found it hard not to laugh out loud at some of the OC’s comments.

  They walked along the dirt road, repeating this act loudly every hundred metres. Capt Conkey knew where all the patrols should be. Sometimes the cadets could be seen- their corporal having placed them too close to the road; or out in the open instead of in cover. Several times they heard whispering or movement and Capt Conkey broke off his narrative to give an ‘aside’ criticizing that patrol.

  The pair met three more ‘enemy’ hurrying the other way in silence: Cpl Rankin, Cpl Clyde and LCpl Fisk. The aim of all this movement was to give the patrols something to report. By the accuracy of the Patrol Report the OC would be able to judge whether the patrol had reached the right place; and what sort of brain the corporal might have. It would all be grist for the decision making mill on who should be promoted to sergeant the following year.

  It was over 2km to the Canning Causeway and seemed further in the dark. The repetitive act began to pall. At the
cattle grid near the shed on the lower slopes of Black Knoll Capt Conkey stopped. A torch was shining beside the road. Since all the patrols were supposed to be acting as though they were in enemy territory; and therefore no noise and no lights to betray their presence, this was wrong. Voices came to them clearly.

  “What is going on?” Capt Conkey demanded loudly. “What section is that and what are you doing?”

  “Corporal Hopewell sir. Number One Section,” replied a girl’s voice.

  “Why aren’t you hiding?”

  “We have lost a radio part sir.”

  Capt Conkey groaned, switched on his powerful torch and went over. Graham followed. Cadet Ross, a weedy little First Year, had been fiddling with the radio. A small plug covering a port for an earphone had popped out and they could not find it.

  Three minutes search resulted before Capt Conkey picked up the missing part. “Here it is. Now make sure it is put in correctly,” he snapped. “Now get the section back under cover and keep quiet.”

  Capt Conkey and Graham regained the road and resumed their act. It was only another 500 metres. The dark bulk of the 2ic’s Land Rover appeared with a murmuring huddle beside it. As they walked down into the bed of the Canning Graham noted a distinct drop in the temperature.

  While he was walking Graham had begun to perspire. Now the sweat began to chill. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself- and found someone rubbing against him. Allison. He returned her nudge and joined in the conversation. Henning was telling jokes. Several times Capt Conkey had to tell them to keep it quiet- but laughed as well.

  In the dark Allison’s hand brushed against Graham’s. ‘She wants to hold hands,’ he thought. For a moment he was terribly tempted but then he shook his head and moved further away. ‘I don’t really want to lead her on,’ he thought. But his imagination could not let go as easily and he became aroused and shivered with pleasure.

  Sgt Crane and all of the Control Group arrived, hot and puffing, out of the bed of the small dry creek Graham had followed during the Evasion Exercise. They had just run four kilometres- along the highway to near the army camp turn-off; then up the spur to camp; then along the vehicle track to the North Gravel Scrape; then down the creek through the rubber vines. It was part of the OC’s plan. The watching patrols should have counted 7 people go south and 12 people go north. Now 19 more would go south, pretending to be enemy reinforcements hurrying to the front. As none of the patrols should have seen the Control Group’s run this would provide the illusion of much greater numbers.

  They set off in a long single file, ten paces apart. Graham came last, acting as sergeant. They walked fast and in silence, except for the scrunch of their boots on the sandy road. The effort soon had them perspiring again. Denton began to grumble about blisters and started to fall back. As they came up to the Sandy Ridge turn-off with the glow of the officer’s fire visible Graham sent her with Leah Allen back to camp.

  At the highway Capt Conkey sat them all in a group. “We did that just in time,” he said. “It is twenty one thirty and the patrols should be pulling out now. We will give them twenty minutes to get clear before we walk back to camp.”

  “Can we go to the toilet sir?” Kellie asked.

  “Yes, over there somewhere. Don’t fall down a gully.”

  There was a general movement off into the night, boys to the right and girls to the left.

  “Watch out for bulls,” Crane called. Girlish giggles erupted from the darkness and Denton’s voice came to them with worried tones. “Are there really bulls?”

  This caused a ripple of laughter and several rude comments which the Capt Conkey silenced. Graham was left standing alone. He was about to move to join a group when someone approached him. It was Allison. She stood so close to him their arms touched. Graham glanced around to check that none of the officers could see. He decided it was dark enough.

  “Hi,” she whispered. “How are you?”

  “Good. I’m enjoying this camp a lot,” Graham replied.

  “You look like you are,” Allison replied.

  “What about you?”

  “I like you,” Allison murmured.

  That took the wind out of Graham’s sails for a moment. Then he replied. “I like you too. I think you are beautiful. You have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  Allison snuggled closer. He began to get excited. ‘Heavens! That is nice,’ he thought.

  “I would like to get to know you better,” Allison said.

  “I’d like that,” Graham agreed.

  “Could we meet, you know, secretly, just you and me?” she suggested.

  That set Graham’s heart thumping. His mind raced through the implications. ‘I reckon I could win here,’ he speculated. ‘If only!’ “I’d love that,” he replied. “But sorry- no. Not till after camp.”

  “Aw!” she muttered, but she didn’t sound either surprised or put-out.

  Graham added, “Promise. After camp, if that is what you would like.”

  “How do you know what I like?” she teased.

  Graham laughed. Others joined them. They moved apart. The conversation became general.

  “CSM?”

  It was the OC.

  “Here sir.”

  “Check they are all here, then we will head back. The Control Group can travel in the Rover.”

  “Sir!” Good. The OC hadn’t noticed. “Sgt Bronsky, check HQ; Sgt Crane, check the Control Group.”

  Twenty minutes later they were back at the bivouac area. Webbing was dumped and campfires lit. Graham sat to prepare a cup of coffee. Allison came and sat opposite him. Their eyes met. To his relief she smiled. He smiled back. Good, she had accepted the situation. He sighed. It would have been fun! ‘Never mind,’ he told himself. ‘You only get one chance to be a CUO; but remember what mum said about girls, ‘They are like busses- there will be another one along in five minutes.’.’

  He stirred his coffee and glanced at Peter who sat beside him. “How do you feel now Pete?” he asked.

  “A bit better. A good sleep is what I need,” Peter replied. In the firelight his face looked drawn and tired.

  “Good idea. You go to bed now. I will put this lot to bed,” Graham said. He checked his watch. 22:15. All patrols should be in. He stood up and walked over to the officer’s fire carrying his cup of coffee. Peter crawled into his hutchie.

  At the officer’s fire Graham found Stephen and Gwen. Both reported their platoons safely back. Both platoon commanders had brought their corporals. Capt Conkey handed them a ‘Patrol Report’ form to fill out. Graham sent the sergeants to put their people to bed. A line of cadets came scuffling out of the night- 4 Platoon; just arriving back.

  Capt Conkey called to them, “Where have you been 4 Platoon?” They should have returned half an hour earlier.

  CUO Bates detached herself from the head of the line and came over. “We had a section missing for a while sir,” she explained.

  “Which one?” Capt Conkey asked. “No, don’t answer. I will guess. Cpl Doyle’s?”

  “Yes sir. He missed the RV on the way back. We found them down along the boundary fence.”

  Graham listened to this in amazement. How on earth could anyone get lost when all they had to do was go about two hundred metres on a compass bearing; then return along the same route on the back-bearing? He shook his head.

  So did Capt Conkey who said: “Take them home CUO Bates. They can have supper. You and your section commanders report to me straight away.”

  As the platoon went past Graham spoke to Sgt Griffin to check none were missing. Then he joined the OC at the fire.

  “All back CSM?” Capt Conkey asked.

  “Don’t know yet sir. Three Platoon hasn’t reported,” Graham replied. He raised his voice and called for Sgt Brown to report.

  “And the CUO and corporals, “ Capt Conkey added.

  “And your CUO and section commanders,” Graham bellowed towards the distant fire.

  It took ten min
utes before Sgt Brown appeared. Graham was irritated by the delay. “Move faster next time Sgt Brown,” he snapped. “Are all your people there?”

  Brown said they were. Graham sent him off to put his cadets to bed and reported ‘All present’ to the OC. The corporals of 3 Pl and 4 Pl arrived and were set to work filling out their reports. Capt Conkey moved the officers, CUOs, Graham and Staff Costigan away to one side, grouped around a lantern.

  “All here?” he asked. “Where is CUO White?”

  No-one knew. Capt Conkey called him on his radio but there was no response. Graham called LCpl Henning to go and find him. “And turn those army radios off,” he added. “Don’t flatten the batteries.”

  “We will start,” Capt Conkey said. He began checking off the tasks and timings for the next day’s activities from the program. At the end of ten minutes he was finished. CUO White still had not appeared. Capt Conkey did not wait.

  “That is all thank you platoon commanders. You may go. Good night.”

  The CUOs drifted to the fire and began talking. Costigan wandered off.

  LCpl Henning returned. “CSM? I couldn’t find CUO White Sir,” he reported.

  “Didn’t Sgt Brown know where he is?” Graham asked.

  “He wasn’t there either,” Henning replied.

  Alarm bells rang in Graham’s brain. “OK Cpl Henning. Thank you. Go and tell HQ to go to bed.”

  Deep in thought Graham strolled over to the officer’s fire. The corporals had nearly completed their patrol reports. Some were finished and were allowed to leave. Graham set off for 3 Platoon.

  When he arrived he found a dozen cadets sitting around a fire. Others were wandering about in the darkness. ‘Cactus’ was telling a crude joke. Graham checked the hutchie shared by CUO White and Sgt Brown. Empty. Deep in thought he walked back to the fire.

  “Bedtime. Stop the jokes and get to bed. And Cadet Carleton, don’t let me hear you talking like that in front of the girls again.”