The Word of God

by Christopher Cummings

  But all those thoughts were secondary to worrying about themselves. With every passing minute Peter knew that daylight was getting closer, and with it went their chances of escaping.

  He kept glancing at his watch, silently cursing as the time dragged by, wishing the night was over while hoping it would stay dark.

  Finally the first pale glow of dawn showed through the trees to the east. Peter bit his lip.

  Won’t be long now!

  He heard movement and muttered voices and knew the Confederates were being woken up. The sargent came along to check them and the radio operator sent a codeword. Peter nodded.

  Platoon HQ must be just there, he deduced.

  Then there were more sounds: muffled thudding and the faint chink of metal on metal, then voices and shuffling. Peter felt his stomach tighten and his heart rate shot up again.

  More troops arriving? he thought.

  Carefully he eased Joy’s arms from around him and moved to see if he could get a look. Joy opened her eyes and Peter realized with a shock it was light enough to see them. She looked alarmed and opened her mouth to speak but he shook his head and leaned over to put his mouth over hers.

  It worked. She relaxed and accepted the kiss, then nodded. Peter moved again, raising himself slowly in a body press, to peer through the gloom. Graham watched him with anxious eyes.

  In the semi darkness Peter saw an astonishing sight. As far as he could see down along the road were Confederate soldiers. They appeared to be just grey shapes. Peter tried to count them. At least fifty or more, he decided. He also saw that their hiding place was right on the crest of the low saddle between the two hills and he could see about a hundred metres down the road.

  More Confederates appeared, moving silently along the road in their direction, so he lowered himself back down and shook his head at Graham’s questioning eyes. Graham then took a turn at having a cautious peek. When he lay down again he rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

  Major Johnston’s voice carried to them but they could not hear what he was saying.

  They are going to do a company attack! Peter decided. Surely those Devil Worshippers won’t still be there!

  From the voices and sounds it was obvious the Confederate infantry were deploying along the road in extended line, ready to advance.

  And we are right in front of them! As soon as they walk forward they must find us! What can we do?

  Chapter 34

  A CHANCE

  Peter glanced at his watch. It was now light enough to read without needing the luminosity. 0545. Fear churned in his stomach and he bit his lip with anxiety. He saw that the sunlight was just striking the tree tops on top of the hill and that the fog was lifting, to drift in thin swirls.

  A peculiar ripple of sound made him go tense. Almost at once his brain worked it out: A signal had been sent along the line of waiting infantry.

  This is it! he thought, bracing himself ready to surrender before anyone got shot. Determined to avoid bloodshed Peter raised his head amongst the bushes.

  Then he stared in amazement at the scene revealed before him. Like an old photo from one of those Civil War battles! he thought.

  The Confederate soldiers wore a motley array of clothing, with grey and brown predominating. Some wore battered old felt hats and others wore the grey kepi. Their webbing and weapons were as varied as their dress: old bolt actions, modern semi autos and submachine guns. Peter thought that muskets would not have appeared out of place.

  What really set the scene for him, to the extent that he nudged Graham and got him to raise his head too, was the flag bearer. The man stood in front of the line about thirty paces away. He had grey trousers and jacket and a battered felt hat. He was bearded and looked lean and tough. A bowie knife and holster adorned his belt. A blanket roll was draped across his left shoulder. The flag he held came as no surprise at all: it was the Confederate Battle Flag; the red field with white edged blue diagonals showing the thirteen stars of the Confederacy.

  An officer strode into view: tailored grey jacket, blue and gold trimmings, blue sash and a revolver and sword.

  A bloody sword! Peter thought as he goggled. I’m dreaming!

  But he knew he wasn’t because beside the officer was a radio operator who had his eyes fixed on him. The officer, Lt Bragg Peter decided, stood looking at his watch, sword raised. Suddenly he stiffened, looked right and left to check his men and brought the sword down to point towards the hill.

  There was an anticipatory rustle of movement, then the line moved. Two paces had the men in the ferns and long grass. Close beside Peter and Graham a man walked forward. To Peter’s immense relief the man detoured around the end of the log. Peter lay flat and hugged the ground, almost cringing in anticipation. He knew from the spacing that at least one or two of the advancing infantry should walk through where they lay.

  The sargent’s voice growled from off to the left: “Travis you slug, climb over that bloody log. Don’t go around it. Stop following Wilson! Catch up man!”

  Peter raised his eyes and saw Travis come scurrying past only a pace or two from Graham’s boots. The Confederate was hung about with a blanket roll and had an old M14 rifle with a bayonet fixed.

  If he spots Graham he will be able to drive that right through him! Peter thought.

  But Travis was looking to his left to try to get back in line with the others. In five paces he was past them.

  Another Confederate passed very close behind Peter, having walked around the other end of the log. Peter lay tensed and ready but the man did not see them either.

  Perhaps we’ve got a chance! Peter thought, hope soaring.

  Graham obviously thought so too as he hissed: “Keep down! Lie still!” Peter looked and saw Sir Miles, who lay nearby among the weeds and ferns, nod.

  Peter lifted his head a fraction to watch. Across his front passed the long line of attack, appearing as a flicker of movement through the trees. Then a second line moved into view: officers and radio operators and men carrying heavy weapons: M60 machine guns and rocket launchers and so on. Then a third line: Company HQ, with Major Johnston and his Sargent Major and signallers and a squad of infantry.

  They have missed us! Peter marvelled.

  He raised his head higher and risked looking through the bushes beside a tree. There was no-one in sight at the road junction, which was only ten paces away. He swivelled his head the other way. All he could see were the backs of the advancing line, now fifty paces away and starting to climb the grassy, tree-covered hill.

  Joy looked at him, her face grimed with dirt. “Is there going to be a battle?”

  Graham was up too: “They’ll be bloody disappointed if they don’t get one!”

  Gwen raised her head. “Surely those Devil Worshippers will be long gone?” she queried.

  Peter shook his head. “I would be if I was…. Holy Mackerel!” he cried.

  Two shots had rung out from up on the hill and one of the Confederates let out a cry and pitched into the grass. Instantly a tornado of fire erupted. The advancing line halted and emptied their magazines up the hill. Down to the right at least two machine guns began flailing the hilltop with fire. Peter gaped at the streams of tracer fire flicking and hosing up through the trees.

  Graham moved to a crouch. “At least two of them still there,” he observed. He crouched to watch, his face alight with excitement. “There they go! Fire and movement!” he cried.

  Peter watched Confederates start to run from tree to tree in ones and twos, covered by the fire of the sections out on each flank and by their friends. It was both appalling and fascinating. Then he shook his head.

  “Now is our chance. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Don’t forget that squad down near the lake,” Graham answered, pointing to where the two machine guns still hammered at the hilltop.

  Peter rose behind a larger tree and looked along the road in each direction. As he expected there was a medical squad and a vehicle down
toward the other junction but even as he watched the men ran forward into the trees.

  “Let’s go! Follow me!” he snapped. He turned away from the battle and jumped over the log, then raced through the ferns to the road junction. He glanced left as he crossed but did not slacken his pace as he ran along the same road they had followed in the previous evening. To his relief the others followed: Joy, Gwen, Sir Miles, and Graham as rearguard.

  Peter pounded along the road with his heart in his mouth, expecting at any minute to hear shots being fired at him. However none were. Even the ‘battle’ seemed to be dying down and he could hear orders being shouted as the Confederates pushed up the hill. Just for a second, as he glanced over his shoulder, Peter glimpsed the Confederate Flag Bearer up near the top of the hill. The red of the flag was caught by the morning sun and shone brightly.

  That looks great! he thought, unable to withhold his admiration.

  Joy was sucking in deep breaths close behind him. “Where are we going?” she gasped.

  “Just along here a bit, then back up to where we left Old Ned and Frank,” Peter answered. He wanted to get far enough away so that the squad down near the lake would be unlikely to hit them, even if they saw them.

  “Don’t.. don’t.. go… t..too far along … the .. road,” Joy puffed.

  An image of the crucified man leapt into Peter’s mind. “No. Don’t worry. We won’t,” he called back.

  “I… I don’t want Gwen to.. to see,” Joy replied.

  “I know,” Peter said. With that he slowed and turned right to walk upslope through the grass and ferns.

  The others followed. As they went up the slope the firing died away on the other hill and down near the lake. They heard shouted orders as the Confederates re-organized but could see no sign of them. Half way up Peter halted at a clump of rocks to get his breath. The others puffed up to stand or flop down beside him.

  “We made it!” Gwen gasped. “Oh I was so sacred! Thank you. You are all wonderful.”

  Graham grinned. “We know that,” he replied. Then he looked concerned. “Are you alright Gwen?”

  Peter had turned to look at Gwen when she spoke. Now that it was light he was curious to know how she was, but afraid it might be bad news. To his relief she shook her head but said: “I’m alright. I’m just hungry- and I really need to go to the toilet.”

  In answer to Joy’s anxious look and unspoken question Gwen shook her head and said: “They didn’t hurt me. I wasn’t even tortured, although they threatened to do horrible things.”

  “What happened?” Joy asked. “Where did they take you?”

  “To a farm somewhere the other side of Herberton I think. When I wouldn’t answer any questions they just tied me up and locked me in a room. They didn’t feed me but did give me water and let me go to the toilet. That’s how I know where I was; it was a horrible old outdoor dunny full of spiders.”

  Peter looked around at the sound of a vehicle. He couldn’t see it but it was somewhere back on the road. Admin vehicle, he thought. Ammo resupply and casevac. He said: “Tell us later, and don’t talk about food! We haven’t eaten since this time yesterday either, and we had to bloody walk over the mountains to get here.”

  He started plodding up the hill, casting frequent glances over his right shoulder as he did. Gwen asked how they came to be there and Joy told her the outline of the story.

  By then they were up to the clump of rocks where they had left the two old men. Peter expected to find them gone but they were there, both frightened, tired, cold and querulous. Frank had them covered with his shotgun but lowered it.

  “What happened to you lot?” he asked.

  “We got pinned down between the Devil Worshippers and Stonewall Jackson’s second coming,” Peter replied. “You two alright?”

  Frank nodded. “Bloody cold! And bloody hungry!” he replied.

  “Get much sleep?” Graham asked.

  Frank turned a bleary and bloodshot eye on him. “No. But this old bugger did. Slept like the bloody dead he did, at least till the war erupted a few minutes ago. That got him up!”

  The cadets laughed and Old Ned scowled. “What do we do now?” he asked.

  Peter gestured southwards. “Walk down the mountain to Herberton,” he replied. “Grab your gear and let’s go.”

  “What about this radio?” Joy asked.

  “Yes. It might be useful to keep us informed,” Peter replied. “When the action hots up they stop using code and talk in clear. It might help us to keep out of trouble. Let’s go.”

  “Wait a minute,” Joy said. “We ladies need to go to the powder room.”

  Graham chuckled. “Is that where you keep your gunpowder?” he teased.

  Joy sniffed and shook her head but gave a tried smile. She and Gwen walked off around the slope behind another clump of rocks. Peter picked up the radio and swung it on. He handed the M16 to Graham. “You take this mate. You are better with it. I fired about half a magazine. Give me back the pistol.”

  Graham did so, then moved to where he could see back down the hill and crouched to check how many rounds remained in the rifle’s magazine. Peter made sure the pistol was on safe and put it in his ammo pouch. Then he took out his notebook and pencil and started copying down the flow of numerals coming through the earphones.

  Joy and Gwen rejoined them. Gwen was introduced to Old Ned and Frank and then they set off. Peter let Graham lead again. “I know the ground well,” Graham explained. “This is the ground we crossed during that exercise against the air cadets.”

  Peter smiled. “Where you snuck up on the bird from the Navy Cadets,” Peter replied.

  Graham gave a grunt and then chuckled. “She was nice,” he said.

  Gwen heard this and made a face. “Tina is a lovely person. She must have nearly died of fright when she saw your ugly face peering at her through the bushes,” she said.

  Graham glanced back and grinned again. “She is. And she didn’t call out,” he boasted.

  Gwen snorted. “Struck speechless by the horrible sight,” she commented.

  “Got me a kiss anyway,” Graham answered. He then put his fingers to his lips and moved on ahead, flitting from tree to tree.

  The hill side they were walking up was all burnt off and covered with a short growth of green grass. There were plenty of rock outcrops but it was easy going. Peter kept looking back but was satisfied they were no longer visible from either the road or the other hill. He could see the other hill through the tree tops but it was now half a kilometre away, or more.

  Graham did not go all the way to the top of the hill but angled across the slope to the right. Peter got a couple of glimpses of the road down through the trees on the right before Graham led them over a crest. At once the view changed. Out in front was a wide, forested valley with mountains beyond. Off to the left, at the head of a side valley, was the sweep of the escarpment leading round to the ridge from which Stewarts Head stuck up as an unmistakable rocky outcrop.

  Graham stopped and pointed. “Herberton is beyond that ridge in front of us,” he explained, “But the highway and railway are out there at the bottom of the valley to our right, only a few kilometres away.”

  Seeing how far they had to go dismayed Peter. He gritted his teeth and wondered if he could walk the distance. Now that the adrenalin of action was draining away he felt utterly exhausted. More worrying still was seeing that Joy was just plodding along, her face pale and drawn.

  Graham led them down the ridge, keeping just on the left of the crest line. From time to time he would stop to allow the old men to catch up. At each halt he would scout ahead or over the crest. At one of these he came back and said: “This is just near where the Navy Cadets and Air Cadets were camped on that exercise. They had their signal light lashed to this tree.” He patted the rough ironbark with affection.

  “Is that all that happened here?” Gwen asked, tongue in cheek.

  Graham blushed and grinned but did not answer. Gwen and Joy both smil
ed.

  So did Peter. Good old Graham, he thought.

  Then he sniffed the crisp morning air deeply and thought how good it was to be walking downhill and free. The sky was a clear blue, the sun and exercise had driven out the cold and everything was looking rosier.

  At the next halt Graham came back from scouting and said: “Come and have a look. It is their base camp I think.”

  They moved cautiously to the crest line and peered from behind trees. About a hundred paces away, beside the gravel road, were a tent, fireplace and three vehicles, including the truck they had been kidnapped in.

  “That’s my mate Jed there,” Peter said, seeing the man appear from the tent carrying something.

  “I’ll bet he’s not a happy boy,” Graham commented. “He was really ripped into when you escaped and he was put on ‘Defaulters’ along with his mate. I’ll bet they’ve done nothing but peel potatoes, wash up and chop firewood since.”

  That picture appealed to Peter and he grinned. Joy smiled at him and he put his arm around her shoulder. As they watched a Toyota Landcruiser came driving down from the area of the battle. Two wounded men were helped out of the front and one lifted out of the back onto a stretcher.

  Gwen gasped and shook her head. “There must have been some sort of fight,” she commented.

  Graham snorted. “They are just as likely to have shot each other with all that shooting,” he replied sarcastically.

  “What will they do with their wounded?” Joy asked.

  “That’s their problem. Let’s go,” Graham replied. He turned and led the way back among the trees and on down the ridge.

  A hundred metres further on they crossed an old road which wound its way around the side of the ridge. There were boot prints on it, all heading uphill. Sir Miles watched Graham study them, then asked: “How do you know we won’t run into an ambush or patrol?”

  Graham shrugged. “I can’t guarantee we won’t. But from what I overheard of their plans last night I don’t think we have too much to worry about. They have four platoons and a Company Headquarters. We know where the HQ is. Half is with the major back up near the Dams and the Admin echelon is just back there at that camp. Five Platoon is up there near the Dams, somewhere on the left; and Six and Eight Platoons were in that attack. So it is only Seven Platoon we have to worry about and they can’t be everywhere. Is that about what you reckon Pete?”