The Cadet Sergeant Major

by Christopher Cummings

  Peter and Costigan were sent to collect the witnesses. Lt Standish took Cadet Steele off with CUO White. People came wandering past and were sent away. Graham writhed in silent agony and shame. Already the rumours had gone round the unit. ‘Suspended from duty! Costigan to act as CSM!’ Oh, that was a cruel irony!

  ‘My enemy triumphant!’ he thought bitterly.

  The witnesses were seated out on the sand, isolated from each other and supervised by Costigan and Peter. Lt Maclaren and Lt Hamilton then began calling them one at a time to question them.

  As Graham sat there in the darkness he went over every second of the incident in his mind. Yes, he had grabbed at Steele’s shirt. He knew that, in the State Law of Queensland, even to lay a finger on someone could be construed as assault, if the person objected. Bitterly he cursed himself.

  ‘What a bloody fool I am! There go my chances of making CUO!’

  Capt Conkey joined them with a lantern and a notebook. “OK CSM, what happened? Tell me your version of it.”

  Graham did so. He felt so wretched he thought he was going to throw up. Inside he began to burn with indignation. The situation was absurd! The actual act so trifling! And to be crucified by a bloody liar!

  When Capt Conkey had finished his questions he moved away to go into conference with the other officers. All the preliminary interviews had been completed. Graham was left sitting alone in the dark. He checked his watch. 1945. The campfire should now be underway, but the platoons were all still dispersed at their own fires. A few curious cadets came wandering around, among them a worried Margaret. Costigan chased them away. Steele and the witnesses still sat out on the sand in a long line being watched by Peter. Graham was acutely aware that the ‘case’ must be a hot topic around the platoons.

  Twenty long minutes dragged by. Graham watched anxiously. By the nodding of heads a decision had been reached. Lt Hamilton detached himself from the group of officers at the fire and walked over.

  “CSM, come over to the OC now.”

  Graham tried to read his fate in the officer’s voice but could not. He stood up and went with him. At the fire he halted, standing stiffly at attention, annoyed that he could not quell the butterflies in his stomach nor stand without trembling slightly. His palms were sweaty and he wanted to wipe them but he made himself stay at the correct position of attention. His eyes met the OC’s serious face with dread in his heart.

  Capt Conkey shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. Graham’s hopes plummeted.

  “Well CSM, you have made a few enemies,” Capt Conkey said. He paused and Graham feared the worst. The OC then looked him squarely in the eye and went on, “But I would not expect a good CSM to be popular with the troublemakers. A couple of the witnesses were prepared to support Cadet Steele’s accusation, but the others would not. You strongest supporter was Cadet Hodgins. He was emphatic that Steele actually struck you. Walsh and Arthur said the same. So we questioned them all again and the others decided that maybe they weren’t sure what they saw because it was too dark. And Cadet Ross admitted he had lied and agreed with Hodgins.”

  Capt Conkey smiled. “So we believe your version CSM. You are restored to duty. I know it was a natural action to reach out to attempt to restrain Cadet Steele; and I am sure you were sorely provoked- we could hear him shouting from here- but you should not have tried to do so. In future keep your hands by your sides and report such incidents to me. We will now speak to Cadet Steele. You will not make any personal issue of this with him, or with the other witnesses. Is that clear?”

  “Yes sir,” Graham said. Inside he felt the pain in his chest ease and his spirits bubbled up.

  “Now go and get the Campfire going; and make sure everyone is there. Carry on.”

  Graham felt as though a great weight had been removed from his skull. He breathed deeply and tried to pretend he was unmoved but inside he surged with relief.

  “Sir!” He about turned and strode off, calling for Peter to move HQ to the campfire. Peter joined him.

  “You OK then?” Peter asked quietly.

  “Yes thanks. I’ll tell you about it later. Get HQ to stoke up the campfire.”

  It seemed as though the whole unit had been holding its breath. Something like a collective shiver, expressed in an outburst of rapid talk, ran through the darkness as Graham’s normal CSM’s voice called the sergeants to move to the campfire. A babble of happy voices lightened the mood. Cadets came streaming out of the darkness to seat themselves in platoon groups. Laughter and horseplay broke out. Graham noted many curious looks but he ignored them and acted as though nothing had happened.

  The fire was piled high with logs. It flared up, sending up showers of sparks. The updraught made the overhanging leaves shake. Graham controlled the fire maker’s efforts for the sake of safety. When a good, crackling bonfire was roaring he called the platoon sergeants to check they had everyone present. When all had replied he sent LCpl Parnell to invite the officers to join them.

  Lt Hamilton took over as Master of Ceremonies and began with a joke. Number 1 Section was then called on to perform. Graham moved to one side and looked over the mass of faces, all ruddy in the firelight. His eyes met Margaret’s and she smiled her relief. So did Barbara and Allison, and a dozen others.

  Graham also noted Hodgins, who gave him a grin and a thumbs-up. That amazed him. A few others avoided his eye. Steele and Waters sat sour-faced at the back, both isolated by their peers. What cheered Graham more was seeing Clayfield sitting in the middle of Barbara’s section and actually smiling. Graham realized that he hadn’t heard of Clayfield having a toilet problem for two days. ‘Let’s hope!’ he thought.

  For a few minutes Graham stood and scanned the company, looking for any potential trouble. He noted Stephen sitting with Kellie Jones and that caused him to frown. Then he saw Marcia Denton sitting beside Mike Tarrant, a big lad in 4 Platoon. She was leaning against him and smiling and he was talking to her and looking interested. ‘Hmm. I wonder if Tarrant is following the ‘Go ugly early,’ theory, or does he actually find her attractive?’ Graham wondered. He shrugged and smiled. ‘Good luck to them,’ he thought, wishing her well.

  The Campfire settled into its usual round of jokes and ribald send-ups, impersonations, poems, songs and skits. Hilarity was quickly reached with an impersonation by Cadet Perry of the OC giving orders. Graham began to relax and enjoy himself. Lt Maclaren set up shop with two ‘Eskis’ of soft drink and chocolates. Cadets began moving around to the canteen and off into the shadows where sections were rehearsing for their act.

  After an hour it seemed that the Campfire was a roaring success. There was continual cheering and laughter and the skits and jokes seemed to be the best Graham could ever remember. The officers did a variation of the old ‘Operating Theatre’ shadow play using a lantern behind a hutchie. They titled it ‘The truck crash’ (Lt Hamilton driving, the OC explained). They set about attempting to reconstruct one single cadet from the mangled remains of what was alleged to be all the CUOs and sergeants. All manner of improbable items were held up to cast a shadow, the original owner and his attributes named, and the item inserted into the corpse (the OC).

  Peter came out of it lightly. He was credited with a brain (a ball bearing which rolled around in a tin can). Graham was a bit tense as a rope circle was held up and Lt Standish said. “What a giant mouth. I think it must have been the CSM’s”

  The crowd roared with laughter. Then Margaret called from the audience. “All the better to kiss you with!” The laughter and cheers were deafening. Graham blushed hotly and met Margaret’s eye. She was embarrassed too but gave an impish grin.

  A skit by the Control Group sending up Dimbo Doyle’s navigation followed. This included a body under a blanket with its arm sticking up. Graham wasn’t really amused and he noted that Peter appeared to blanch when he saw it. Capt Conkey cut it short and told ‘The bear and the rabbit’ to lighten the mood again.

  Then Capt Conkey came to stand next to Gra
ham. Graham noted that his mouth was smiling as he watched the cadets, but his eyes were not. He asked quietly, “Your report on the CQ, CSM. What was behind your comments?”

  “I was told that he and Cpl Jones did something last night sir, during their patrol,” Graham replied.

  “Hmmm. And did they?”

  “Definitely not sir but I think that Costigan made improper suggestions to her. It was during the patrol when they were alone and had the opportunity and Costigan was overheard boasting to Sgt Crane that he had done things.”

  “Hmmm. I had heard a whisper of some sort of problem,” Capt Conkey replied. “What about Cpl Jones, is she behaving?”

  “I believe so sir,” Graham answered.

  “Costigan and Cadet Smart?”

  “He would if he got the chance. Possibly sir.”

  “Hmmm. That fits with something else I was just told. Do you know where they are?”

  Graham quickly scanned the faces around the fire. “No sir, I don’t. They were here a few minutes ago. I will have a look around.”

  “So will I. You search that way and I will go this way,” Capt Conkey said, pointing. Graham nodded and moved off to get his torch.

  Nearby in the darkness were quite a number of people. Some were groups rehearsing skits but others were just talking or wandering around.

  “Back to the fire you lot,” Graham ordered. He walked slowly along the dark tunnel through the bivouac areas. He did not use his torch but his ears were alert and his eyes probed the shadows. A ten minute walk to the far end of the 4 Platoon area revealed no-one. He circled back along the top of the first dune, well aware that it would be difficult to locate anyone who did not want to be found in the vast tangle of vines and bushes.

  Twenty five minutes later he was back at the campfire. The ‘concert’ was now in its dying stages and only determined efforts by Lt Hamilton kept it going. Nearly as many cadets sat in groups nearby or strolled around as sat at the fire. Most appeared tired and ready for bed. A few had trickled back to their platoon fires.

  Graham stood to one side for a few minutes where he could see most of the faces. There was no sign of Costigan or Cpl Goltz. ‘And of a few others I wanted to keep an eye on: Crane, Brown, Smart, Ramsey,’ he mused. Someone came and stood close beside him and nudged his arm. It was Margaret. She gave her lovely shy smile and said, “Everyone seems to be having a good time.”

  “Yes,” Graham agreed, his eyes noting Lofty Ward and Wendy Werribee sitting so close together their arms were touching.

  “Is everything alright?” Margaret asked.

  “I hope so. I’m just keeping an eye open for possible trouble makers,” Graham replied.

  “I heard about what Cadet Steele accused you of,” she said. “I’m so glad you didn’t get into trouble.”

  Graham grunted and gave a dry laugh. “So am I.”

  At that moment Kate O’Brien came out of the dark, plonked down next to Allison and Marcia Denton and began whispering to them.

  ‘Hmm. Someone’s upset her,’ Graham observed. ‘She certainly looks angry.’ He looked around. “Have you seen the OC Margaret?”

  “Not for a while,” she replied.

  “Thanks. I’d better go and find him,” Graham said. He turned and made his way through the line of trees to where the smaller flames of the officer’s fire flickered. Quite a number of people were there and Graham at once sensed trouble.

  The OC, Lt Maclaren and Lt McEwen were standing beside the fire talking to CUO White and Erika Goltz. Nearby, watched by Lt Standish, sat Sgt Crane and Cadet Ramsey. No-one was smiling and it was at once apparent that the OC was extremely angry. Graham halted, unsure whether to join them because a CUO was there. He decided it was his business if Goltz was, so he went forward.

  Capt Conkey glanced at him then continued talking to CUO White. What he said at once appalled Graham. White was not there in his capacity as platoon commander; he was in trouble. Capt Conkey was lecturing him in the harshest of terms for ‘poor example’ and ‘disgraceful behaviour’. He concluded by saying, “CUO White, you are relieved of your command. Go and get your gear and bring it here. You will stay within the close supervision of Lt Maclaren for the rest of camp. Cpl Goltz, the same applies to you. Lt McEwen will supervise you. Now both of you go and get your gear at once. Don’t be more than five minutes or I will want to know why. Don’t stop to explain to friends. Now move!”

  The pair, both looking very shamefaced, turned and hurried away. Capt Conkey shook his head sadly, his mouth a grim line. He looked at Graham. “CSM. Did you find Costigan and Smart?”

  “No sir.”

  “Alright, we will have another look in a minute; after I have dealt with this pair,” he nodded his head towards Crane and Ramsey.

  Graham raised his eyebrows enquiringly. Capt Conkey answered, “I caught Sgt Crane and Cadet Ramsey up near Two Platoon. They were lying in the darkness kissing- didn’t even leave the camp area! I had just shone my torch on them when I heard a girl laugh and water splashing, so I went to look. I found CUO White and Cpl Goltz in the river and with almost nothing on. They had no reasonable explanation.”

  Graham was intensely annoyed, but not shocked. ‘Damn! Why do they have to spoil the camp by ending it on such a sour note? Why couldn’t they wait twenty four hours?’

  Capt Conkey called over a surly and defiant Sgt Crane and a sour faced Cadet Ramsey. Neither denied what they were doing but Crane insisted they were ‘just kissing’ and ‘weren’t going to do anything’.

  Capt Conkey grunted then growled at them. “Maybe not, but that is not the point. It is the same issue as when I demoted Cpl Brown. You, Sergeant Crane, are the older, and the superior in rank, so yours is the greater offence. You job as a sergeant is to maintain discipline, not undermine it.”

  “Yes sir,” Crane muttered, eyes lowered but mouth twisted into a defiant sneer.

  “Same for you two. Go and get your gear. I will decide what to do tomorrow after I have looked into the matter more closely. Until then you stay at HQ. Go!”

  Capt Conkey shook his head angrily. Graham felt sorry for him. He noted cadets hovering nearby. He called to them, “Unless you people want to see one of the officers go back to your platoons.”

  Capt Conkey checked his watch. “Let’s see if we can find Smart and Costigan. Sandra, you stay here to supervise. Mel, you go up to the top of the river bank to the vehicles and check the third flood channel. Jill, you search the river bank downstream. I will go upstream. CSM, you go over to the Control Group camp and look around there. All be back in half an hour. It will be time to put the troops to bed by then.”

  Graham and Lt Maclaren at once headed off into the darkness. Out on the sand they separated. More cadets, singly or in groups were sitting in the dark or strolling around. Graham ordered them back to the campfire. He felt extremely annoyed at the actions of CUO White and the others.

  “This could spoil the whole camp,” he muttered as he strode angrily along. As he went his eyes and ears were alert and he occasionally shone his torch into likely areas of shadow under trees. Just as he reached the gap in the dunes a group of four cadets appeared from the direction of the Control Group camp. It was Crane, Brown, Bax and Clyde. Crane was carrying his gear. On reaching Graham they stopped.

  Crane called to Graham in a sneering tone, “Checking up on us like a good little toady are we?”

  “No, I am looking for someone,” Graham replied. He did not want further trouble and felt some alarm. ‘They could bash me up if they have a mind to,’ he thought. ‘That would create even bigger problems for the unit.’

  Crane dropped his pack and stepped closer, fists on hips. “You’re a bloody sneak Kirk, dobbing us in. I oughta belt ya for that.”

  “I didn’t dob you in,” Graham replied, trying to sound calm and confident.

  “Oh bull! So how did the OC just walk straight over to where we were?”

  “Just bad luck on your part,” Graham replied.


  “Bad luck! Crap! You or one of your toady mates dobbed us in when they seen us leave the fire,” Crane retorted.

  ‘More fool you for not being smart enough to leave the fire separately,’ Graham thought. “I did not.”

  “Bloody did! You make me sick. You are just a boot-licking, brown-nosing crawler,” Crane snarled.

  Brown stepped forward and joined in. “And a bloody hypocrite! I just talk to some girls and I lose my bloody stripes. You- you can talk to that little troll of yours anytime and the officers don’t say nothin’- not even when you grope that bitch Brassington in front of them.’

  Graham’s mind whirled. What was Brown getting at? He felt his anger rise. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You know bloody well. When were swimming the other day. You got a good handful didn’t ya?” Brown replied angrily.

  Graham felt instant hot guilt. He had a flashback to the girls pushing him over and ducking him. He was hurt and amazed that the incident could be seen in that way. He denied it hotly. “I did not. It was just a water fight.”

  “Water fight!” Brown guffawed. The four all jeered and sniggered.

  Crane attacked him again, “Ye’r a gutless turd Kirk; and a hypocrite. You and yer mates can do what they bloody like. Anyone you don’t like, you dob in.”

  “That’s not true!” snapped Graham, stung by the insinuation.

  “It bloody well is!” Crane cried. Then he drove in a verbal dagger that, for a minute, left Graham stunned. “What about yer mate Bronsky? He’s done more than either of us, yet nothin’ happens to him!”

  Peter! What had Peter done? Graham’s mind raced with possibilities and probabilities. With a ghastly feeling of apprehension welling up he heard himself ask,

  “What has he done?”

  “Who yer mean,” Crane snarled. “Him and that O’Brien bitch. They’ve been off together half a dozen times.”