by Patrick Ford
Finally, the tools of trade: AK47s, pistols, grenades, knives, restraints, grappling hooks and boarding ladders, two-way radios, personal webbing equipment and dark military style clothing. There was $1.4 million left to construct two bases with rudimentary facilities. The first was on Ramu Island. Small, uninhabited, and part of a maze of similar islands, difficult to find and difficult to navigate, with many shoals and sharp reefs, it would be ideal as a base for the boat as well as a prison for the detained crews of their victims. Now, all Abdul had to do was find a suitable hideaway on the Kimberley coast. He had a few ideas. He had used a few places to lie up when daylight had caught him still in Australia’s territorial waters, to avoid the infrequent patrol boats. One of them might do.
Chapter 3
The Good Life
Life at Ballinrobe had settled into the New Year. The summer storms that had started last December morphed into good general rain for most of January and February. The rain had transformed the landscape. Now there was a green carpet of grass. The cattle had become fat and sleek, and their calves, with plentiful milk from their mothers, were growing fast. All the waterholes were full and the creek was running strongly. The fallow wheat fields were soaked to capacity. A good wheat crop looked likely.
A wonderful harmony had settled over the household. Susan and Helen loved one another. They had from their first meeting and they were enjoying their work together. Susan was learning about the Australian custom of having the main meal in the middle of the day and the countless cups of tea they drank. Mid-morning and mid-afternoon, when the men were working close to the homestead, they broke for smoko, a misnomer since only Mick still smoked. Susan had the American preference for coffee, but found the instant variety not very nice. She was working on this problem. Helen managed about one weekend a month in Brisbane. She loved being with her daughter and her family, caring for Grace and investing heavily in shopping time.
At the beginning of March, Jack and Susan were married again in the garden at Ballinrobe. The grounds looked magnificent, thanks to the rain and the ministrations of Mick, who spent more and more of his time in and around the homestead. Mick was aging now, and was spared from much of the heavy work around the property. He had adopted a possessive attitude about the garden and grounds. Duncan and Denni had come from Brisbane. Jack’s old friend from university, Bob O’Connor was the best man. He and Margie had a new baby boy. Jacqui stole the show as the flower girl.
Jack had watched as Susan appeared in her simple wedding dress. She needed no expensive or complicated clothing to look so amazingly beautiful. Jack thought back to Denni’s wedding in this same garden. He had been so disconsolate, not knowing where Susan was or the fate of their baby. He kept imagining Susan in the wedding dress and grieving her absence.
There was a great party to follow. So many people congratulated them. Most knew of the sad years and of Jack’s exploits in Vietnam. They were so glad things had turned out well for the happy couple. Jacqui captivated them all.
Late in the night, when the party was in full swing, Jack said to his mother, “Mum, can you look in on Jacqui from time to time, please. Susan and I have a special visit to make. Helen looked at them both with love. Both had changed into jeans. She knew where they were going. They walked in the soft moonlight to the garage on the side of the barn. Here, Jack kept the Land Rover his father had purchased in 1956. Jack had learnt to drive in this vehicle at the age of ten. He had assumed ownership when his father purchased a new one in 1963. It had a special meaning to him. He had passed so many happy hours behind its wheel and he and Susan had used it frequently. It had sentimental value for them. Jack had always had the vehicle maintained in new condition. The Land Rover was a simple but functional vehicle, manufactured from aluminium panels with a heavily galvanised chassis. It was a very capable off-road performer, in wet and dry conditions. Most of his neighbours had embraced the newer Toyotas; they had more creature comforts, could carry bigger loads, and were much more powerful, but Jack still preferred the rugged dependability of the famous British marque.
They drove off into the distant fields. Jack stopped near a watering point surrounded by belah and cypress pine trees. They had arrived at their thinking place. Jack had an elemental attachment to this land. Like the Aboriginal people, he believed that the spirits of the land connected him to it. Here he had revitalised his spirit and reconnected with the land after he had been away, at school or in the army. He had introduced Susan to this place. Here they had made love, connecting their spirits to the land. Here they had come with their unborn child, offering her spirit to the land. Here Jack had come in his most desperate hours, to gain sustenance from the spirits. He had seen Susan in the flames of the fires he had lit. She had felt him from thousands of miles away. This special place strengthened their love, and formed a bond that helped them through three long and lonely years.
Jack lit a small fire in the fire ring Ollie had built for him. The flames flickered and swirled. Tonight there would be no images, however fleeting. Tonight would be the ultimate joining of their spirits with the land they loved. They sat on a picnic blanket beside the Land Rover and stared into the flames. Jack said, “We have come to the final destination, my darling, we are together and always will be, here with our land and its spirits.”
Susan smiled her gorgeous smile and moved to him, kissing him in the old familiar way. He tasted the delicious combination of her lips, her perfume, her sweet tongue, seeking out his. They kissed for a long time, feeling their passion grow. Slowly they undressed each other, gazing with wonder at each other’s bodies with the pleasure this always gave them. Jack kissed her, feeling her growing excitement. He kissed her neck, buried his face in her hair, and took in the scent of her. She pressed herself into him and gasped with pleasure. He began to stroke her, slowly, gently, seeking out her sensitive places. She moaned, and pulled him on top of her. In seconds, he had entered that wonderful warm place.
In the afterglow, she whispered, “Oh Jack, I will love you all my life. I am yours forever, Jack, I think we may have introduced another little spirit to our world. I think I’m pregnant.” The breeze sighed in the trees, cooling their skin, whispering to them—welcome little one, come into our hearts. They lay there, entwined, crying softly for joy. Finally, she said, “We must go now, Jack. Everyone will be wondering where we are.” They dressed and returned to the party.
* * * *
People were having such a good time; no one had noticed their absence. They circulated amongst their guests. Susan was flushed from their lovemaking and with her suspected pregnancy; she could not believe people did not notice. In the morning, there were a few hangovers waiting for the big breakfast. Helen and Denni were busy concocting huge platters of bacon and eggs and sausages, mounds of toast, gallons of tea and coffee.
Jacqui appeared, clutching Ollie the Teddy. “Helen,” she said, “Mommy and Daddy are still asleep. Can I go wake them up?” “Leave them for just a little while darling. They are just getting over the biggest day of their lives.”
“I dreamed Daddy and Mommy were at the thinking place last night. Ollie told me they were. Do you know that?” Helen smiled, and then picked her up for a big hug and kiss. “I’m sure Ollie is right, little one. Why don’t you go to see Sam? I have some really good bones for her.” Jacqui ran off to see her best friend. Jack and Susan appeared to a round of applause, and the party started again. In the late morning, most of the guests departed. Only the immediate family remained. Jacqui had attempted to play with her little cousin, but she was still too young to do anything but gurgle back at her. “Grace doesn’t say much, does she Mommy?”
Jack and Susan had merged seamlessly into the social events in Goondiwindi. There was a good library, a new swimming pool, clubs and pubs. Susan enjoyed doing shopping in this friendly place, and she soon had a number of good friends. She had gone with Jack to visit all their farm suppliers and immersed herself in all the farming terms. Soon she knew the differenc
e between a belt and a bearing, cattle ear tags and fencing materials. Jack was happy to let her do the shopping in this area of the business. She proved good at organising Helen’s messy office and took charge of paying the monthly accounts. Helen was glad of this; she could spend more time in her garden.
Susan loved the animals. She and Jacqui took charge of the chickens, beginning to breed some younger birds for the table. Chicken had been a rarity in Jack’s youth, but was becoming more available as an everyday food. Jacqui loved the baby chickens, and the egg hunts, when broody hens tried to conceal their nests. Soon the word ‘chicken’ had all but disappeared from their vocabularies. The Australian slang chook was the norm. Jacqui loved the horses too. Sometimes Ollie or Jack would put her on a quiet horse and lead her around the stockyards. She was too little for riding yet, but the time was coming. The confirmation of Susan’s pregnancy filled the homestead with joy.
Autumn turned into winter, the rain was regular, and the wheat crop was ready to plant. Miraculously it remained fine for this event and for a week or too afterward. The crop established itself perfectly. It looked as though a great harvest was approaching. One day in mid-May, a large official envelope arrived in the mail, inscribed with the royal cipher, and addressed to ‘Major JP Ryan MC MID’ the return address said ‘Department of the Army - Private and Confidential’. The army wanted Jack again. He opened the envelope and spilled the contents onto the kitchen table. There were metal ‘Royal Australian Infantry Corps’ cap and lapel badges. There was a pair of woven crowns, outlined with red, the corps colour of the infantry. There were shoulder flashes in red and white that proclaimed The Bushmen’s Rifles. There was a letter of appointment as the second in command of the 37th Battalion of the Royal Australian Infantry Corps. His instructions were to attend a meeting of the Battalion staff at Enoggera Barracks in Brisbane in two weeks. Uniform was to be worn.
Helen had been in Brisbane for a couple of months while the builders completed the homestead renovations. She would have her own suite of rooms. The new work extended the bedroom to include a small kitchenette, a private bathroom and a sitting room. It even had a private entrance from the garden. It was perfect.
Jack called to Susan and Jacqui. They were out on the veranda, playing with Sam. Sam the kelpie was Jacqui’s best friend and protector. She went with her everywhere. Sometimes she would look at Jack as if to say I’m still your mate, but she comes first now. His girls tumbled into the kitchen, flushed with their exercise. Jack looked at them. Sometimes he loved them so much, it seemed to hurt. Susan looked lovelier than ever, her pregnancy making her glow with vitality. Jacqui, now three years old, bubbled over with enthusiasm for just about everything. She was proving to be very intelligent. She had an astounding vocabulary for one so young. Jack put that down to the long lonely months when Susan had been her constant companion, always engaging her in conversation.
“Well, my lovelies,” said Jack, “it’s time to saddle up. The army wants me in Brisbane for a few days.”
“Oh, goodie,” cried Jacqui, “we will see Grace. I hope she can talk a bit more now. Mommy, we will be able to go shopping and see some movies.”
Susan was glad to be having a little break away. She had missed Helen during her absence, and a few days away from the dust and noise of the builders would be welcome.
Jack organised with Ollie to look after things while they were away. Ollie said, “Off you go, Boss. You need a break and so does your family. Have a good time and give our regards to Denni and hers.”
* * * *
Jack stopped at the guardhouse as he entered Enoggara Barracks. It had been some time since he had been in uniform. This morning he had dressed with care. He was in his best service dress, with his new Major’s crowns on his epaulettes. On his breast, he wore his ribbons, and they were an impressive lot indeed. From right to left on his jacket he wore the beautiful white and purple of the Military Cross, followed by the Vietnam service medals and the foreign decorations, The lovely red, white and blue of the US Silver Star, the yellow and red of the Vietnamese Gallantry Cross, and the green and white ribbon of the South Vietnam campaign medal.
The Corporal of the guard greeted him at the gate. Jack looked him over. Smartly turned out, he wore the Vietnam ribbons. He looked at Jack’s shoulder flashes, saw the unfamiliar ‘Bushmen’s Rifles’ and broke into a dismissive grin. However, when he saw the medal ribbons, his demeanour changed radically. He snapped to attention and delivered the best salute he had given for years.
“Sir,” he said, “Sorry, Sir I didn’t know it was you. You’re Captain…I mean Major Riordan, aren’t you?”
Jack smiled. “It doesn’t matter who I am, Corporal, all officers deserve your respect. I see you were in Vietnam, too. When was that?”
“1966, Sir, 6th Battalion.”
“Rough tour that. Were you at Long Tan?”
“Not at first, Sir, we moved in behind D Company and mopped up. The Sergeant of their lead platoon should have gotten a VC for what he did.”
“Yes, he should have. Can you direct me? I have a meeting with Colonel Rocca.” A fleeting expression of distaste passed across the Corporal’s face at the mention of Rocca’s name. He consulted a clipboard. “Annex A, Sir. Just follow that path there and you will trip over it.” The Corporal saluted again. “We all heard about Bien Long, Sir.”
An orderly took Jack to a meeting room and asked if he wanted coffee. He declined and stepped into the room. Conversation stopped and all eyes turned to him.
There were four officers in the room. Jack looked at their insignia. One was a Captain with the red tabs of the General Staff; two were baby-faced Second Lieutenants. It was the fourth man who attracted his attention. His gaze fixed on Lt. Colonel Rocca. Rocca was a big man, running to fat, with grey hair and a mottled drinker’s nose. He could only have been in his early forties as retirement age for his rank was forty-five, but he looked at least ten years older than that. He wore a single green and purple long service medal ribbon. Sweet Jesus, thought Jack, a veritable Colonel Blimp, no combat experience, unfit, shunted into a military backwater. What is he doing here?
Jack moved forward to meet the others. Sure enough, the Colonel wore the shoulder flashes of the ‘Bushmen’s Rifles’. Shit, thought Jack, he is going to be the Commanding Officer! So it proved to be. “Gentlemen,” said the Staff Captain, “we are waiting for Captains Taylor, Jacks, and Theopolus to arrive. For the benefit of those newcomers here, they are the company commanders of A, B, and C companies. No company is at full strength, and will not be until after your recruit course in August. The authorities are still debating the merits of a weapons platoon for such a disparate unit as yours. As you know, the Bushmen’s Rifles exists to allow those who live far away from our regular reserve regiments to exercise their right to elect to serve in the reserve forces and avoid front line service in Vietnam. The war is still escalating. Soon there will be three battalions of our infantry in the field, along with Armour, Engineers, Artillery and elements of the RAAF and RAN. This will take the overall numbers of our personnel to more than ten thousand.” The arrival of the three Captains interrupted the meeting. Jack was disappointed to see only one of them wore Vietnam ribbons. The Colonel glowered at the interlopers but said nothing.
The Captain continued. “The purpose of this meeting and the others to follow will be to discuss the formation of the Rifles, the command structure, the needs in the training areas, and where to hold this year’s advanced courses. Thank you gentlemen, this meeting is now yours.” He rose and left the room.
Colonel Rocca addressed the meeting. “I want to introduce you to our second in command, Major Riordan. The Major comes to us with a big reputation. How that came about with a University Regiment background, I do not know. I had hoped to have regular officers to form the cadre of this regiment, but I suppose the army doesn’t see much value in a unit such as ours.”
You fat prick! thought Jack. I know where you’re coming from now.
You have been judged useless by your superiors and pushed to the end of the line. Now all you want to do is serve your time, and be damned to the regiment! He rose to his feet. “Colonel, I have been posted to this unit because my superiors know we can perform a valuable service by training a large reserve of troops. I know we will not see action as a unit, but I am determined to make every man in the Rifles as well trained and as capable as any regular soldier, and I feel we should start off with a positive attitude.”
Rocca said, “Major, I will determine what happens in this unit, not you. I believe that this is a waste of valuable men and resources. We should be concentrating on better men than these hicks from the sticks. Do not forget I am a regular officer with far more experience than you have, and I outrank you. You will follow my orders.” Jack looked at this sad excuse for an officer. Subtly, he brushed his fingers across his medal ribbons. Rocca did not miss the calculated insult. He grew red in the face and his black eyes turned to stone.
Jack said, “In the field, many of these hicks as you call them, have displayed great skill and courage. When you are with them, there is no distinction between them and regular soldiers, either personally or in the field. I am privileged to have commanded such men in action. They are the best infantry in the world. My brief as training officer is to make our men just as good, and I intend to do just that!”
Rocca said coldly, “Thank you for your candid comments, Major. Remember next time you address me you should call me Sir.” The other officers looked askance. The Vietnam veteran was trying to hide a smile while the others looked horrified. Rocca said, “This meeting is over. You will convene here tomorrow. I want all your reports and training plans ready by 1700 hours. Dismissed!”
Rocca stormed from the room. Jack said, “Right, I will see you tomorrow at 0800 here. Captain Taylor, can you remain behind for a few minutes please?” Taylor sat across the table from Jack who looked him over. Jack saw a strong looking young man of about twenty-four years of age, two years older than Jack was. He said to him, “I’m Jack Riordan, what’s your first name?” Taylor looked at him. “I’m Peter Taylor,” he said, “from Wondoan. My parents have a farm there.”