The Cadet Sergeant Major

by Christopher Cummings

  “No sir,” Graham replied, unabashed. He swung off his webbing and stood close to the fire. Peter had a good look around then joined him.

  Graham also looked around. “Nice spot for a Bandit’s Camp sir,” he said, quite unaware that Peter was in turmoil, as it was not fifty paces across the shallow stream to where he and Kate had swum naked.

  “It’s a lovely spot,” Capt Conkey agreed. “A nice place for a swim and a picnic.”

  “What do we have to do sir?” Graham asked.

  “Just fight and then die heroically when they attack. I will do all the talking. You observe how the leaders perform,” Capt Conkey replied. He checked his watch then asked. “How did it all go in the middle there?”

  “Really good!” Graham replied enthusiastically. “By the time they reached me they were all freaked out by the bull and the whole situation and when Peter did his ghost act they really shrieked.”

  Capt Conkey and Bert both laughed. “We know. We heard the first screams down at the highway bridge.”

  They fell to discussing the activity. Graham noticed a line of dark figures silhouetted against the moonlit sand between the camp and the water. “Here they come now sir,” he said quietly.

  Capt Conkey nodded. “Wake Cpl Bax.”

  Peter moved to do so but before he could Coralie Bates’ voice shattered the stillness, shouting, “Hands up! Surrender!”

  Capt Conkey ignored this and jumped up, shouting, “Bang! Bang!”

  “Open fire!” screamed CUO Bates.

  From Graham’s left came yelling to simulate a machine gun firing. ‘Fire support is in the right place anyway,’ he thought. He ran to cover and pretended to fire back at a line of attackers.

  “Bang! Bang! Bang!” he yelled then dutifully fell ‘dead’. The sand was soft but cold. He wriggled into a comfortable position to watch.

  CUO Bates did a good job. She kept tight control and her voice carried well. Scott’s section was the assault section and they swept through in extended line and up the next dune. There they went to ground amongst the trees on its crest. Doyle’s section followed and was directed to cover the ‘bandits’, and to protect the flanks and rear.

  Graham observed carefully. ‘Sgt Griffin is like a bloody chook with its head cut off,’ he thought while watching the platoon sergeant try to organize HQ to do a search. Here training paid off and the Intelligence team began to work methodically along. CUO Bates crouched beside a tree, watching, directing and dictating a message to Allison who sat with her torch in her mouth to encode it.

  Kate and Parnell arrived at Graham and began to search.

  “Don’t tickle,” he said playfully as they began to empty his pockets into a plastic bag. Kate smiled but Graham could see she was in a bad mood. The pair moved on to search Peter who lay nearby. Kate stood back and let Parnell do it, then called him off after a perfunctory effort. They moved to the fire to sort out what they had found.

  Capt Conkey sat with his hands on his head under guard. After five minutes CUO Bates looked up from the captured documents. “Are you Pancho the Fat, sir?”

  “No I am not,” Capt Conkey replied. “I am Pablo, his faithful sidekick.” His voice changed. “Stop the exercise CUO Bates and call all your people in beside the fire.”

  Graham stood up and thankfully moved close to the fire. Bert began stoking it up. Peter and Staff Costigan joined them. When the cadets were all seated on the sand bank on the other side of the now crackling fire and the roll checked Capt Conkey said to CUO Bates, “OK, ask the question again.”

  They repeated the conversation. CUO Bates then asked: “Where is Pancho?”

  “He is not here. Pancho left an hour ago. He has gone to make a quick visit to his girlfriend, the lovely Marguarita.” Capt Conkey sighed theatrically, which drew some snickers from the cadets, then went on: “Pancho said he would meet us at a rendezvous at Quilp Creek at nine o’clock.”

  “Where is Quilp Creek?”

  Capt Conkey shrugged and gestured. “That way. In Indian Territory across the river. Do you not have a map?”

  CUO Bates coloured and pulled out her map. “Show me where.”

  “I cannot. I am loyal and faithful- but, if you promise to let me go I can tell you perhaps a leetle.” Capt Conkey put a hand to the side of his mouth and spoke in a stage whisper. “That Marguarita, she is a very hot number. If Pancho is in jail perhaps she will need a new man?”

  There was a burst of laughter. Capt Conkey pointed out the location. CUO Bates noted the Grid Reference and told her NCOs to mark it on their maps. Laidley whistled. “Strewth! That’s a bloody long way!”

  “Only about four kilometres,” Capt Conkey replied.

  “What!” cried a cadet in dismay, “Isn’t this bloody exercise finished now?”

  Graham noted him and thought: ‘Morton. No promotion for you ‘Sunshine’. Reaction under stress- Poor.’

  Capt Conkey nodded. “That’s right. You mission is to capture Pancho the Fat, not just some of his gang.”

  There was a wave of surly muttering. Graham noted several disgruntled faces and a general lowering of morale. Sgt Griffin did nothing to quell this and looked unhappy. Only Doyle, of all the corporals, looked cheerful. Scott looked poker faced. Laidley appeared angry. Kate looked as though she was about to burst into tears and neither Allison nor Kellie gave the impression of being enthusiastic.

  Graham nodded and pressed his lips together. ‘This is what the OC planned on. This is the test of character. They thought it was over, but it is only just beginning!’ He watched with interest how the CUO handled the situation. ‘I wonder if I will get an exercise like this to test me when I am a CUO next year?’ he pondered. ‘I hope so.’ As Capt Conkey did nothing to stop the grumbling Graham followed his lead.

  For a minute CUO Bates collected her thoughts. Then she silenced the platoon and turned to the OC. “Where is the treasure?”

  “Pancho took it with him. He did not trust us.”

  “Sensible man!” Doyle offered. This produced some half hearted laughter. CUO Bates then asked, “Is Pancho alone?”

  “No. He has Pedro and Garcia with him, and probably his Apache scout Geronimo.”

  “Where does this Marguarita live? Show me the route Pancho will follow to the rendezvous,” CUO Bates asked.

  Capt Conkey pointed to her map. “Here. He will follow this track along the river bank. You are to go North West following the bed of the river to this point, then cross. You will recognize it easily enough as the bed changes from being mostly sand to large sheets of exposed bedrock. Cross at the narrowest place. The water there is only knee deep and five or ten metres wide. But you must be across the river by dawn and in hiding. Go into a hide here.”

  Capt Conkey marked her map then went on. “If the Apaches see you they may attack you. So put your platoon in all-round defence. Then you do a recon and set a trap somewhere along this track. Be in position by zero eight thirty. Radio me when you are in position. After the ambush you will get further orders.”

  This statement caused more long faces and gloomy looks. CUO Bates looked at her watch. Graham checked his. 0425hrs and only about 90 minutes to first light. Graham did the sum in his head. ‘Tired cadets plus four kilometres of soft sand at say 20 minutes per kilometre instead of the normal ten. They will need every minute of it,’ he deduced.

  That was obviously CUO Bates’ conclusion as well. She stood up and gave rapid orders. “Let’s move. We will have a meal and a hot drink when we are in our platoon harbour. Move back and collect your packs. Order of March is Twelve Section, HQ, Eleven Section, Ten Section. Get up and move!”

  Her voice snapped at them and they reluctantly stirred. Some were plainly unwilling but there was no obvious disobedience. Graham half-expected some-one to say they were sick; or had blisters, but none did.

  ‘Not even Denton,’ Graham thought in mild surprise. ‘No help from her NCOs though. And Henning and Parnell are joking about something.’

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bsp; The platoon filed glumly off into the night. Capt Conkey stood up and watched them go, his back to the fire. Then he turned to the control staff. “Good. That was very instructive. Now, pack up and put this fire out. We have to move fast. I want to be back with the First Years by zero five thirty to watch their ‘Stand-to’.”

  Graham and Peter used their boots to push sand over the fire while the others rolled their bedding up. In five minutes they were on the march back towards the bridge. As soon as they came out of the shelter of the trees they felt the chill.

  “Brrr! Bit cold now,” Graham commented as he trudged along beside Peter. Peter gave a grunt which made Graham look sideways at him.

  “You OK Pete?”

  “Hmmm. Yeah. Just tired,” Peter replied.

  Graham nodded. He was a bit worried about his friend. ‘He isn’t his usual cheerful self,’ he thought.

  Capt Conkey fell back to walk beside them. “That was interesting CSM,” he observed. “Which of those corporals would you promote to sergeant on the basis of that performance?”

  “None sir,” Graham replied at once. “Well, none in Four Platoon but maybe some from HQ.”

  “Which ones from HQ?” Capt Conkey asked.

  “I’d say Allison Broadfoot but I know you will think I am biased. And Kate O’Brien is OK don’t you think Pete?”

  “Er!...Um... Yes,” Peter replied.

  “Kellie Jones?” Capt Conkey asked.

  “Aw, I suppose so,” Graham replied reluctantly. “But...”

  They discussed the performance of the corporals as so far observed during the exercise while they trudged over the sand. This certainly gave Graham food for thought. Back at the bridge Capt Conkey roused Lt Hamilton. The cadets were instructed to put out that fire, to load all the gear into the vehicles and to get in.

  It was just on 0500 when the vehicles were started up. They drove up to the highway and turned onto the bridge. As the Rover accelerated the wind of their passage generated a real chill. Graham shivered and pulled his jacket up around his ears. The two vehicles roared across the bridge and turned left up the Canning Road. They followed this until they reached the shed at the bottom of Black Knoll. Here they stopped while Capt Conkey gave Lt Hamilton last minute instructions. He was to continue on, to follow a rough track to the bank of the Bunyip so as to provide a safety vehicle for 4 Platoon.

  After a radio check which confirmed that 4 Pl were now at the river and about to cross it Lt Hamilton drove on with Cpl Bax and Cpl Brown. Capt Conkey turned his Rover up a rough track which led up a wide spur to the crest of a hill. The vehicle was stopped beside the army car. Lights and engine were switched off.

  “All out,” Capt Conkey ordered. “CQ, you and Bert wait here, and have all those jerry cans there ready to issue. Come over to the company once they are stood down.”

  Graham hoisted on his webbing and pack. Peter did likewise and they followed the OC down a cattle pad across a shallow saddle. Beyond this the ground rose to a pile of black rocks crowning another flat-topped hill. This was Black Knoll. The Knoll itself was bare of vegetation but the hillside around was cloaked in short grass and a scattering of ironbarks, their black trunks just visible in the darkness. Graham knew the area well from the previous year’s annual camp.

  “Halt!”

  The quiet challenge came from an outcrop of rocks beside the track. It was ‘Cactus’ Carleton in Cpl Gallon’s section. Capt Conkey answered and spent a minute chatting quietly with the sentries. Then he led the way on up over the low stony shoulder of the knoll to the flat hilltop beyond. Lt Standish sat there well rugged up. Beside her were a radio and the sleeping forms of Lt Maclaren and Lt McEwen.

  Graham looked around. He knew he was in the centre of the company position but it was so quiet, except for distant traffic on the highway, that it was hard to believe there were nearly a hundred cadets around him. Off to the east, over kilometres of dark bush, a pale flush indicated dawn was not far off. He checked his watch. 0530 Time for the ‘Stand-to’ to begin.

  “Give me a hand Pete. Find Two Platoon HQ and tell them to stand-to. They are about fifty paces that way,” Graham murmured. He put down his pack and walked into the darkness towards 1 Platoon. As he got closer he heard the murmur of voices and rustle of plastic. Good. They were awake and packing up.

  Graham found Stephen rolling up his plastic groundsheet. It was the unit’s policy not to put up hutchies during a tactical exercise unless it was raining, or liable to rain. In inland North Queensland in September that was a very remote possibility. Unit policy also laid down that everything would be packed while it was still dark, with no noise, no lights and no fires. The cadets would then lie down, fully dressed (as they had slept, boots and all) behind their packs and facing their allocated ‘front’. They were to be wearing their hats and webbing and watching out- ready to ‘march or fight’.

  “Your lot awake Steve?” Graham whispered.

  “Yep. I’ve just been around to make sure. They are all awake and packing up now,” Stephen replied quietly. A dark shape drifted over, grass swishing softly: CUO Sherry.

  “Morning CSM,” she murmured.

  “Morning Ma’am. I will just go round your troops if I may.”

  “Certainly. How did the exercise go? What were those screams?”

  Graham chuckled. “I’ll tell you later.” He moved quietly down the gentle grassy slope to where black blobs and movement indicated the presence of the cadets. There was a low grumble of voices and the distinctive rustle of plastic groundsheets being folded up.

  “Less noise Hodgins,” Graham growled.

  “Yes sir, sorry sir.”

  Graham began a clockwise walk around the perimeter, chiding laggards and correcting faults. By the time he reached the next platoon, 2 Platoon, he realized it was light enough to distinguish faces and to see much of the area.

  He found these cadets all ready, lying silently. A figure moved to meet him: Cpl Brassington.

  “Good morning sir. How are you?” she asked quietly.

  “Tired thanks,” Graham replied. “Are all your people standing to?”

  “Yes sir.”

  Graham crouched to peer at the two people at his feet. They were Margaret and Rebecca Robinson. Margaret was looking up at him and he saw her smile. He returned it and felt an impulse to stroke her cheek. Surprised at this urge he whispered to Margaret, “Sleep well?”

  “Not really. Too many rocks,” Margaret replied.

  “And prickles!” Rebecca put in.

  “And people stumbling over us and waking us by mistake every time the sentry was changed,” Margaret added.

  “And it was cold,” Rebecca said.

  Margaret gave an impish smile. “Yes it was. I needed you here to keep me warm.”

  “Margaret!” Rebecca cried softly in a slightly scandalized tone.

  Graham chuckled and had to resist the urge to pat her shoulder. At that moment there were the muted sounds of disagreement further along. Graham strode on.

  It was Cpl Fiona Davies arguing with her 2ic, LCpl Leroy.

  “Quiet!” Graham hissed. “LCpl Leroy, just do as you are told.”

  “But Sir I…”

  “Be quiet!” Graham snapped. “Not now. Discuss it after stand down.”

  Leroy muttered and went off to lie down in the grass. Graham walked on, meeting CUO Grenfell.

  “Oh it’s you CSM. What was that about?”

  Graham told him.

  “Bloody Leroy!” CUO Grenfell grated. “He spends half his time arguing with Cpl Davies and the other half countermanding her orders because he thinks he knows better. He’s an opinionated little toad.”

  Graham added this to his mental files. Another problem to be resolved. He walked on with the CUO and came to Roger’s section. They were all silent and ready.

  “G’day CSM.”

  “G’day Roger. How’s tricks?”

  “Good. We caught Sgt Crane and his smart-arse snipers last night.”
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  Graham chuckled. He looked around as more people approached. It was Capt Conkey with Sgt Copeland.

  “It is getting light,” Capt Conkey said. “Let’s all move to our positions and get under cover.”

  They began walking back towards the centre of the position. Capt Conkey asked. “How are they round the other half of the company CSM?”

  Graham told him. They joined Peter and the other officers and sat on their packs. After another ten minutes, during which it got rapidly lighter, the cadets lay in almost complete silence. When it was possible to recognize the platoon commanders by their face Capt Conkey stood up.

  “That was good. Hardly a sound. OK. Stand down. Peter, you tell One Platoon please. CSM, Two Platoon, Lt McEwen Three please.”

  Graham nodded and stood up. He felt a bit stiff but was surprised he didn’t feel particularly tired.

  ‘I wonder what today will bring?’ he mused as he walked towards CUO Sherry and Stephen.

  CHAPTER 25

  ALONG THE RIVER BANK

  As soon as the ‘Stand Down’ was ordered Capt Conkey called off the tactical routine with its day sentries. “They practiced that last night and will get another chance tomorrow night. Time is more important. Let’s get breakfast over quickly,” he told the Company ‘O’ Group as they sat in a semi-circle facing him. He checked that everyone knew what was on the program and where they were moving to, then sent them to eat.

  The group dispersed. Graham sat on his pack and began heating water. ‘No time to spare,’ he told himself. He had to eat, shave, polish his boots, mark the roll; then get around to speak to the sergeants and take a look at the troops- all in an hour. ‘I wonder when I can find time for a crap!’ he mused. ‘Oh well, just have to hold on I suppose.’ He began mixing coffee, dimly aware that Peter was unusually silent and looking quite exhausted.

  The sun was just touching the tree tops, turning the river gums a lovely golden pink as Graham finished his coffee. By the time he had wolfed down a can of ‘Ham and Egg’ and washed up his dixies the sun was on his face. He peeled off his jacket and packed it before shaving. Ten minutes later, at 0645, Graham stood up, adjusted his webbing and went to visit the platoons; 3 Platoon first, to see how Sgt Rankin was getting on. He found him having breakfast with CUO White, both chatting happily.