Peter nodded: “Yes it is. And I think Seven Platoon is liable to be over towards the railway and on the other side of the Wild River, on that spur over there. If I was trying to cut off the Devil Worshippers that’s where I would put them.”
“Me too,” Graham agreed. He then led them across the old road at a point where they could step from one patch of bare bedrock to another. After that it was a steep downhill for several hundred metres. To Peter it was real progress as they sank below the level of most of the tree tops in the valley floor and soon they could see out under them as the ground levelled out. It was easy walking: short grass growing in sandy soil amid a forest of She Oaks.
Graham kept looking to his right as he walked. As they reached the change of slope he grunted and veered left. “I’ve gone a bit too far right,” he said. “I was right. They’ve got troops at the gate.”
“Gate?” Joy asked.
Graham pointed to their right. “The Dams are in a water supply reserve. There is a locked gate to keep people out. The fence only extends a few hundred metres either side. There is the end of it over there.”
“But if the gate is locked how did these people get in?” Joy asked.
Peter felt a flush of embarrassment for her. The word ‘naïve’ sprang to mind but he did not want to think it as he loved her so much.
Graham just let out a soft laugh and said: “Anyone who can fly an army into someone else’s country isn’t going to have any trouble taking a set of bolt cutters to a padlock!”
By then they were walking on almost flat ground. This sloped gently down in the direction they were going. Marching became just a plod. Old Ned began to fall behind and was limping badly. He moaned and complained and several times asked when they could stop for a rest.
“When we get to the Highway,” Graham replied. “Then you can sit while we hitch a ride. Then…”
He stopped in mid-sentence as a distant burst of firing began in the bush ahead of them. The shooting went on for several minutes before dying away to occasional shots, then stopping altogether.
The group came to a halt. Old Ned cried: “What is that shooting? Are they in front of us?”
“Sounds like it,” Peter said.
Frank looked really scared. “What happened?” he asked.
Graham looked at him with a pained expression, then said: “I’d say some Devil Worshippers just ran into trouble.”
Old Ned let out a gasp. “But so will we! We’re cut off!” he cried.
“Oh poop!” Graham snorted. “It is good news. The Confederates will be busy, and now we know they are there so we will just detour around them.”
“But there might be more! How will you know where to go?” Old Ned cried. He was shaking with nervousness and his voice quavered.
“Trust me!” Graham replied, pursing his lips.
“But you might lead us into a trap!”
“Then go your own bloody way!” Graham snapped. “If you don’t like the way we are going then piss off and find your own way out!”
Old Ned gobbled. “You.. you can’t say that! You can’t leave me!” he cried.
“Crap! We aren’t responsible for you being here. We saved you, remember. Now shut up and do as you are told or clear out,” Graham replied.
The group resumed walking. Within a minute they came to a dirt road running across their route.
Graham glanced both ways along it from under cover. “This is that old road we crossed on the hillside,” he explained. “There is a road junction with the new road to the Dams along to the right there a hundred metres or so.”
At that moment the radio burst into life. The transmitting station was loud and clear. Peter began writing and calling the message out to Joy as he did: “Two, this is Two Three, Contact Report, Over. Now Two is saying ‘Send’. Two Three says: Alpha- Contact. Bravo- Seventeen Zero Seven Hundred. (As he wrote that Peter glanced at his watch: 0710. Only ten minutes ago. That has to be the action we just heard) Charlie- Wild River, Moomin; Delta- Four- that is the number of enemy- Foxtrot- Two KIA and one PW; they are the enemy casualties- Golf- enemy were moving west along Wild River. One escaped northwards. Hotel- Codes now. One three two one, two one two one, zero one two one, three one five one, three three two one. More to follow, over.”
This went on for three more minutes till Peter had copied the whole message. “Forty five groups in code,” he called. Joy quickly counted them.
“Shouldn’t we keep moving?” Frank asked.
“This might be useful in helping us steer clear of them,” Peter replied. “Start decoding while we walk Joy.”
Joy had Gwen extract the Bible from her backpack. Peter took out the Signals Operating Instructions and said: “Today is the seventeenth. Company Net, that is… er.. Jacob, Chapter Eight.”
By the time he had done this they were a hundred paces beyond the road and at the bank of the Wild River (South Branch). It was only a creek at this stage, with a bed twenty metres wide. A mere trickle of ankle deep water flowed down it.
Graham stopped behind a tree on the bank. “Let’s have a break and refill our water bottles,” he said.
They settled in the shade under cover. Gwen took Joy’s water bottles to fill them and Sir Miles took Peter’s. Graham remained up on the bank on guard. Old Ned gulped water in great slurps, then flopped down on the sand.
The radio began to talk again. “Company HQ this time. You keep going on that Joy and I will do this one,” Peter said. He copied it down: “Two to Two Three. Roger your seventeen zero seven hundred. Sunray moving to your location now. Out.”
“That was short and sweet,” Graham replied.
“What did it mean?” Sir Miles asked.
“Their boss, the major, is moving to Seven Platoon’s location now,” Peter replied.
“Where are they?” Frank asked.
“They are this mob up ahead,” Peter answered, pointing to their right front.
“I thought they were called Two Three,” Frank said.
Peter shook his head in exasperation. I wish adults weren’t so ignorant! he thought. They should all have served in the country’s armed forces so they know all this stuff! They’d be a bit more use then.
In reply he said: “Their Call Sign on the Company Radio Net is Two Three but their number in their battalion or regiment is Seven Platoon.”
Joy suddenly gasped and chewed at her pencil. Peter and Gwen both leaned over to look at what she had written. “This is really important,” she said. For a minute she scanned the page of the Bible. Then she wrote the last two words and said: “It is. Listen. That last sentence of the Contact Report says: “Have captured Black Knight and The Scroll.”
“The Scroll!” Sir Miles gasped. “And the Black Knight. Oh! To be so close and to miss it!” He thumped his fist into his other hand in exasperation.
Peter read the whole message. As he did the stirrings of an idea made him tingle with excitement. “Graham, where is Moomin?”
“That siding on the railway where the railway crosses the Wild River,” Graham replied.
“And this is the Wild River?”
“South Branch. The two branches join just near Moomin,” Graham replied.
“How far?”
Graham shrugged. “Two, maybe three kilometres. Not far. Why? What do you have in mind? Are we going to attack a whole platoon of Confederates to get the bloody Scroll back?”
“Something like that, only you don’t have to take part, any of you. It will be very risky,” Peter replied.
“I should think it would be,” Graham replied dryly. “Remember how much fire power these dudes pack? I don’t like our chances.”
By then the idea had crystallized in Peter’s brain. “I do. I’m not going to use brute force. Quick! We must move fast. We still have a chance,” he cried. He sprang to his feet and set off through the bush towards the road they had crossed.
The others followed; Graham, Joy and Gwen immediately; and the other three at a distance an
d less enthusiastically.
“What’s the plan?” Graham asked as they strode through the bush.
“I’m going to hold up the OC and use him and his staff as hostages,” Peter replied.
“What if they don’t stop?” Gwen asked.
“Then we clear out fast,” Peter replied.
“Fast!” Graham said. “Note that word. I don’t know about you mate but I am feeling utterly buggered.”
Peter ignored the banter. It merely told him that Graham would do his part. As he hurried along towards the road junction he outlined his plan. He was very excited now. He knew it would be very risky and potentially deadly, but he also knew he had a burning desire to try.
“We’ve got a chance!” he said.
Chapter 35
MOOMIN
Simple plan is best, Peter told himself as he ran through the waist high grass towards the road junction. But it was still a terrible risk and his chest was tight with apprehension. “If there are two vehicles then we don’t act,” he called.
And then he was at the road junction. He had been half expecting to run into a Confederate guard post but nothing happened. In the distance he thought he could hear a vehicle engine and that drove him to act fast. The road junction was at a bend in both roads, a Y-shape. He ran on towards Moomin for about another fifty paces so that he wasn’t visible from the direction the vehicle was coming from.
Here. This will do, he told himself as he glanced quickly around.
There were weeds and trees enough to provide cover right beside the road. He stopped running and pointed into the grass on the Wild River side of the road.
I have to give the others a chance to get away if things go wrong, he thought.
As they moved into the long grass he struggled to get the radio off. And as always when in an urgent hurry, the blasted straps snagged on something on his webbing.
His heart went into his throaty and he gulped air. It is a vehicle; and coming fast.
Driven by a sense of dread he pointed and waved: “Get down! Get under cover! Quick!”
Graham and Joy were near him by then and both went to ground. Gwen and Sir Miles were still twenty metres back. Old Ned and Frank were still fifty metres away.
On the edge of fluster Peter dropped the radio in the middle of the road. His idea was that the Confederates would see it there and assume it had fallen from one of their vehicles during their rush to the Dam during the night.
It will only fool them for a few minutes, till their sigs work out which radio it is. And that vehicle is very close. Get under cover! he told himself.
Now in a state of extreme emotion he dashed back across the road and dived into the weeds near Graham. As he went down he noted that Old Ned and Frank were still on the other road. “Get under cover you bloody fools!” he snapped. To his relief they both did, but not without looking resentful. Peter didn’t care. They were out of sight.
Good. Now, the pistol, he thought.
After wiping sweat from his face and gulping great gaps of air he wriggled around and onto his side. With shaking hands he pulled the pistol out of his basic pouch.
And there was the vehicle! It was the old green Land Rover and was travelling fast. It came roaring around the corner. Peter strained his ears to try to detect whether a second vehicle was following.
Don’t think so.
The driver had obviously seen the radio. Peter saw his head turn towards the man in the passenger seat. It was Major Johnston, Peter noted with satisfaction; and only two others in the back. The major spoke and the vehicle’s brakes squealed on. The Land Rover was going too fast however and it had to swerve sharply and overshot. Peter had not thought about that and for a moment wondered if the plan was still viable.
The Land Rover skidded to a stop on the sand and loose gravel. Dust billowed past. A Confederate jumped out of the back. Major Johnston turned in his seat. “And hurry up!” he called.
By then Peter was up and running forward. He saw the signaller bend down to pick up the radio, his head turning to gape in fear and surprise as he became aware of Peter’s presence. Peter ignored him and ran on. He could see a face staring at him from the back of the Land Rover but ignored that person as well. Then he was beside the passenger door.
Major Johnston’s face turned, a mask of annoyance. This changed fractionally to register surprise in the eyes as Peter pointed the pistol at him. As Peter held it aimed at the major’s face he realized that he had not checked whether it was on ‘safe’ or not.
Too late. Bluff! his racing mind thought.
“Don’t move. You are all prisoners!” he called.
Major Johnston moved his eyes from the pistol to Peter’s, then back to the pistol. Peter was aware that Graham and Gwen were both with him, weapons pointing into the back of the Land Rover. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Joy pointing a shotgun at the signaller, who quickly raised his hands.
She must have taken that off Frank, he thought.
Sir Miles was also moving forward, revolver at the ready. Major Johnston gave a small nod and a sardonic smile flitted across his face. “The elusive army cadets eh?” he replied, his voice quite calm and pleasant. “Don’t you say: ‘Stand and Deliver’ in Australia?”
For a moment Peter was flustered and confused as his mind tried to work out what the major was talking about. Then images from old films about Bushrangers took their place.
Peter shook his head. “No. Bail up was the expression the Bushrangers used I think Major. Stand and deliver was the old English highwayman’s term,” he replied.
Major Johnston nodded and raised one eyebrow slightly. “So you know my rank eh? Who are you?” he answered, still very cool and in possession of himself.
The major’s manner made Peter feel he was losing the moral edge in the situation. He glanced at the others in the vehicle and saw that all had their hands up. On an impulse he switched the pistol to his other hand and saluted the major.
“Cadet Under-Officer Peter Bronsky sir. Now please step out of the vehicle.”
Major Johnston returned the salute: “Major Joseph E. Johnston, Mississippi Militia.”
Peter nodded. “I know. Now get out of the vehicle,” he ordered.
This time Major Johnston worked hard to hide his surprise but to Peter’s enormous relief he moved to comply. Peter stepped back. Something about the major’s composure made him feel suspicious that the Confederate had some trick up his sleeve. After looking carefully in all directions Peter ordered Major Johnston to stand to one side of the road. He then told Graham to get the other Confederates out of the vehicle.
“Search and disarm them Graham,” Peter ordered. Then he stood facing Major Johnston, his mind racing with options and doubts about whether the Confederate would comply. As he stood there he tried to appear as calm and detached as his prisoner but inside he was all a fluster.
Noting that Major Johnston had a revolver in a shiny black leather holster on his equally shiny black leather belt Peter gestured to it with his left hand. “Your pistol please sir,” he said.
“Of course,” Major Johnston replied. He slowly undid the holster flap. Peter kept his own pistol aimed carefully at him.
Remember your training, he told himself. Keep well back, out of arms reach. And watch out for tricks.
Peter stepped back and pointed down at the same time. “On the road please sir, then step away from it,” he ordered, managing to keep his voice sounding firm and confident although inside he was quaking and deeply anxious.
Major Johnston did as he was ordered. As he bent down Peter’s eyes were drawn to the gold braid which was sewn onto the lower sleeves of the gray jacket. Having seen pictures of such embellishments he was fascinated but he found seeing the real thing felt quite unreal. Despite his anxiety and the situation he had sufficient self awareness to know he was light-headed from strain and hunger and he consciously tried to dispel the feeling.
After Major Johnston had stepped back Peter moved and
bent down to pick up the revolver. It was another old fashioned, long barrelled type and was surprisingly heavy. Peter stood up and balanced the gun across his hand to admire it. The weapon was obviously very old, but well cared for. The metal was worn and had lost its sharp edges and most of the ‘bluing’. The stock was dark brown wood.
Major Johnston cleared his throat and for the first time looked unhappy. “It is a .44 calibre Navy Colt. Five shot. My Great Great Grandfather used it in the war between the states. It is a family heirloom.”
“It’s a fine gun,” Peter replied. He felt a twinge of genuine regret to have to take the weapon. He looked at the revolver again with new respect, then met Major Johnston’s eyes.
Major Johnston raised an eyebrow again. “What do you want?” he asked.
“The Scroll of course,” Peter replied.
For an instant a flicker of doubt crossed Major Johnston’s face. Then he said: “And what makes you think we have it?”
Peter indicated the radio lying near the other prisoners. “We have been decoding your messages.”
For an instant Major Johnston’s lips tightened, then he gave an ironic smile. “I’m impressed. But why should we give it to you? I’ve got a whole company of men with orders to shoot to get it.”
“But they aren’t here,” Peter said. “Most of them are still back up at the dams.”
Major Johnston again raised one eyebrow fractionally. “You are remarkably well informed. So what is the deal? Don’t tell me you will shoot us if you don’t get the Scroll because I don’t believe you. I can tell that you aren’t those sort of people. You haven’t got what it takes.”
That went to the heart of the matter. Peter knew that Major Johnston was right. It was no good bluffing. He said: “We will exchange you and your men here for the Scroll and our friends. If you don’t then we will hand you over to the police.” It was a long shot mentioning Stephen and Megan but Peter played it anyway.
The Word of God Page 42