Again Major Johnston raised his eyebrows fractionally and then stroked his beard. “They aren’t here. It might take time to get them.”
That told Peter that his guess had been right and also that Major Johnston was considering the offer.
Peter shook his head. “Tepon isn’t far. You could drive there in ten minutes,” he said, putting his hunch into words.
Once again Major Johnston tried not to look surprised. Peter couldn’t help being impressed by the man’s demeanour and self-control. As he stood covering him his eyes took in every detail of the uniform: the gold stars on the collar, the blue silken sash under a gleaming black leather belt; the blue collar and cuffs on the gray coat, the gold braid.
Major Johnston looked at the others, then: “What exactly are you offering?”
Peter licked his lips, then said: “We get our friends back and you can go free. If we get the Scroll as well then we also set free your Master Sergeant here.”
“Sargent Major,” Major Johnston corrected.
Peter glanced at the man. “Sorry, Sargent Major. And if we get the Black Knight as well then this bloke can go free too,” Peter added, indicating the signaller.
“Bloke?”
“Person.”
“And what if my people have orders to hang onto the Scroll at any cost?” Major Johnston replied.
Peter shrugged. “That’s a risk we will have to take,” he replied. “In that case you might get shot in the fight. If not we hand you over to the police. Either way you lose.”
“What about Private Simpkins?” Major Johnston asked, indicating the driver.
“We will let him go as well, if you do as we say.”
Major Johnston thought for a moment, then gave a wry smile. “I guess I don’t have too many honourable options at this moment. But I am curious why you want that Devil Worshipper character.”
“It is personal. He is a murderer. This is Sir Miles, a Knight of the Holy Grail. He was sent by the Pope to get the Scroll. The Black Knight was his companion and turned out to be a traitor,” Peter replied.
Major Johnston looked at Sir Miles with interest. “It sounds like you boys have had a rough deal.”
“We have, now make your mind up,” Peter snapped. He was feeling very tired and stressed and deeply worried that more Confederates might turn up.
“I agree,” Major Johnston replied. “So what is the plan?”
Peter mentally heaved a sigh of relief, then told him. The others then set to work quickly, at Graham’s direction. The Sargent Major, Signaller and Driver all had their hands tied behind their backs by Joy and Sir Miles. The captured weapons: a sub machine gun and two M14 rifles were picked up by the others. Peter shoved the revolver through his belt between two water bottles and took the SMG. It was of a type he had only seen on movies but a brief inspection showed him how it worked. Gwen and Sir Miles took the two M14s. Graham showed them how to use them. As they worked Peter called out: “Old Ned! Frank! It’s alright. You can come out.”
Old Ned and Frank appeared from behind some bushes and joined them. As they did Major Johnston said, “Frank Connolly?”
Frank looked at him and nodded. Major Johnston went on: “We’ve been looking for you all week.”
“I know!” Frank cried, his face showing both fear and exhaustion.
Peter shook his head. “Stop talking!” he snapped irritably. Reaction was starting to set in and he realized he was trembling. Controlling himself with an effort he then stood and watched, his eyes and ears alert for any sign of danger.
Graham reported the prisoners were secured. Then he indicated Major Johnston. “What about him?”
Peter shook his head. “No. He is going to give me his parole,” he replied.
“Am I?” Major Johnston replied. He gave a thin smile, then said: “You have it. You may depend on my word as an officer and a gentleman. Now let’s get moving. There is a lot to do.”
“Start walking,” Peter said, pointing along the road towards Moomin.
Graham pointed to the Land Rover. “Why not drive?”
Peter shook his head. “It isn’t far and we might drive into trouble unexpectedly.”
Joy held up the radio. “Do we take this?”
“Yes, it might come in handy. Now, all prisoners over to the other side of the road,” Peter said.
The prisoners were moved into line one the left side of the road. “We walk on the right side, well away from them,” Peter explained. “That way we don’t shoot each other if we have to open fire.” By walking on the right their weapons naturally pointed left at the prisoners as all were right handers but he did not explain that.
The group started walking. Peter led, with Major Johnston diagonally behind him covered by Graham with the M16. Joy covered the other prisoners with the shotgun. Gwen and Sir Miles followed, then Old Ned and Frank; Old Ned muttering and grumbling.
As they walked along the dirt road Peter scanned the bush on either side and ahead. The road was lined with tall, straight trees with white trunks and he thought it was a very pretty bit of bush. After a couple of hundred paces Peter began to feel chafing and sore feet and wondered if he had made a mistake in not using the vehicle. The sun was well up and he began to sweat. Nervousness made his empty stomach feel liquid.
The road curved slightly and came to a shallow dip where it forded the Wild River (South Branch). The water was only a trickle which did not even cover their boots so they just splashed across.
Only as they went up the slope beyond did Peter see the bodies. He felt a wave of shock but managed to keep walking.
This must be the ambush site, he decided.
Moving quickly to his right behind a big tree he signalled the others to take cover. This caught most in the open as they waded the stream but they all quickly moved to cover against the river bank, some on each side of the road.
Silently berating himself for poor scouting Peter then scanned the surrounding bush for signs of enemy. Seeing none he shifted his attention to the bodies. Lying in the dust on the road were two dead Devil Worshippers. Peter knew instinctively that they were dead by the crumpled way they lay, and this was confirmed by the dried blood and the flies which had begun to buzz around them.
Nothing we can do for them, he thought. Now in the grip of almost paralysing fear he looked around and forced his mind to consider what to do next. Go around and get away from here, he thought.
He did not go near the bodies to investigate closer and certainly did not want the girls to see them. So he cautiously stood up and signalled to follow then he moved on, staying on the bank of the stream among the trees, desperately hoping that he and his friends were not about to be the next victims of a Confederate ambush.
Peter found his heart was thudding hard and his palms went slippery. His whole body seemed to cringe and flinch. His eyes searched the scrub beside the road but nothing happened. On his left was a fence and beyond that fairly open savannah woodland. On the right of the road was the belt of trees and lantana which lined the Wild River. He continued moving through this.
They plodded on and in a few minutes came to a bend in the road. A hundred metres ahead Peter glimpsed a brown Toyota parked beside the road. It was at a fork in the road near where the road dipped down towards another crossing of the river. Peter recognized the place from the previous exercise and stopped.
We are just near the disused railway at Moomin, he thought.
Again he signalled halt and got everyone under cover. Then he caught Major Johnston’s attention and pointed at the vehicle. “Are they your people?”
Major Johnston looked and then nodded. Peter asked. “It is Seven Platoon Headquarters isn’t it? Who is the platoon commander?”
For a moment Major Johnston hesitated. Then he shrugged and said: “Lieutenant Jubal Best.”
Peter moved back and took Graham aside to give him instructions. That done he indicated that the Sargent Major should walk along the road ahead of him. As he did Major Joh
nston said: “Tell Captain Fisher Zacharia Sargent Major.”
“Yes sir,” the Sargent Major replied.
Peter was both annoyed and anxious. “What does that mean?” he demanded to know.
“You’ll find out,” Major Johnston replied.
At that Peter hesitated and looked at Graham. It was obviously a codeword but it might only be a place. For a moment he thought of changing the plan agreed on, but then shrugged and motioned the Sargent Major to start walking.
They stepped out of the bush onto the road and headed for the vehicle.
It was the hardest walk of all his young life. Step by step he forced himself to walk steadily down the middle of the road towards the Confederates he could now see near the vehicle.
Those men have just killed two people. They might kill me and let the Sargent Major go free! he thought, the terror almost numbing and paralyzing him. His vision seemed to narrow and blur.
A flurry of movement indicated that they had been seen. Men moved under cover with rifles at the ready: at least six Peter counted.
A voice called out: “Hold it right there! What you got there Sargent Major?”
Peter and the Sargent Major halted. “I’m a prisoner Looteneant Best sir; and so is the major. This here boy wants to talk to you.”
That said the Sargent Major spat in the dust to one side, to express his disgust with the situation. Peter stood trembling with exhaustion and fear but quite determined.
Out from behind a tree near the vehicle stepped a Confederate lieutenant. “What you want boy?”
The ‘Boy’ irritated and helped steady Peter. “Give me the Scroll and the Black Knight and you can have your Sargent Major and your driver, Private Simpkins, back.”
“Give you the Scroll! Well, you’ve got a damned nerve. I’ll shoot you first!” the lieutenant replied.
“Then we shoot Major Johnston and the others,” Peter said. “Major Johnston has agreed. He can tell you.” With that Peter yelled back along the road.
Graham came into view with Major Johnston. The lieutenant swore and spat. Peter yelled to Major Johnston to tell him to give them the Scroll. Major Johnston called back. “Do what he says Mister Best.”
The lieutenant swore again, then shouted back: “The Scroll and the God Damned Black Knight for Sargent Major Eastman and that useless son-of-a-bitch Simpkins!”
A voice with a real deep Southern drawl came from a nearby bush. “Lootenant, you tell them to give us the major. They can have that whoreson, bumlickin’ Simpkins.”
Lieutenant Best turned to Peter. “What about it?”
Peter shook his head. “No deal. You get Major Johnston back when we get our friends.”
It took some more haggling but Peter knew he had won. The lieutenant yelled to Major Johnston, who yelled back and told him to obey. Reluctantly the lieutenant went to the Toyota. He returned carrying the sack which Peter recognized. It was handed over, with more swearing and cussing. Peter opened the sack and looked to check that it was indeed the Scroll inside. Satisfied he asked for the Black Knight and a bruised and scowling Sir Richard was dragged out of the bushes. His hands were tied behind his back. He wore black clothing over which was a black surcoat with an upside down red cross on the front.
The Confederate lieutenant pointed to Sir Richard and said: “Watch this sucker. Don’t trust him an inch.”
Peter nodded and gave Sir Richard a hard look. “I know. He has betrayed us before,” he answered. “How come he wasn’t killed in the ambush?”
“The sucker is wearing some sort of bullet proof vest under that cloak. We sure bowled him over though. Put him out like a light for a while. Now, what is the deal to get Major Johnston back?”
“You go and get the two army cadets you have prisoner, Stephen Bell and Megan Crawley. Bring them to the street in front of the police station in Herberton. We will let the major and his signaller go when they are set free,” Peter replied.
The lieutenant did not look happy and asked for clarification on details: places and times. He also kept glancing at the sack in Peter’s hand in a way that made Peter fell very uneasy. The details agreed on Peter did what he thought was the most courageous thing he had ever done and turned his back on the armed Confederates. He took Sir Richard by the sleeve and walked back along the road.
At every step his flesh seemed to cringe in anticipation of a bullet striking it. He found he was shivering and sweating simultaneously; and that he was gulping air as though he had been deep under water for too long. Sir Richard stalked along, obviously scared and in a very bad temper. Peter kept the sub machine gun trained on him.
Nothing happened however and Peter regained the safety of the others. Major Johnston eyed the sack but made no comment. Peter told Joy to cut the driver free and told him to get going. The man trotted on along the road towards the other Confederates.
Sir Miles moved to confront Sir Richard. “Low cur! You have betrayed your oath and your God!”
Sir Richard curled his lip in return. Peter stepped forward. “Save that for later. Let’s get going.”
“Where to now?” Joy asked.
“Back out of sight, then cross country to get around these fellows,” Peter said. He set off back the way they had come, the others following at once.
Chapter 36
HERBERTON
“Why don’t we drive to Herberton?” Sir Miles asked.
Peter shook his head. “Because I think the Confederates have another road block at the junction with the Highway and there could be more of them along the way,” he replied. He had thought of using the vehicles but was very uneasy about it. There was also the problem of then being so close to the prisoners and confined. “Besides, it is only four or five kilometres,” he added.
Sir Miles was not convinced. “But we could drive that in five minutes,” he said.
Graham also shook his head. “Safer in the bush,” he cut in. “We won’t run into the unexpected quite so fast.”
Old Ned groaned. “Five kilometres! I’m buggered. Let’s drive.”
That exasperated Peter. “You can if you want to!” he snapped. “Or you can wait here in hiding. We are walking.”
Frank frowned. “But how will we know which way to go?” he asked.
Peter was even more annoyed but he controlled his temper and made a wry face. “Trust us!” he said shortly. He met Major Johnston’s eyes and the major smiled. Peter then turned to his friends. “Graham, you go scout and navigate. Major, you walk in front of me. Cross the road and get under the fence.”
They were around the bend and well out of sight of the Confederates by then. One by one they rolled or crawled under the bottom strand of the barbed wire fence. “On your back when you go under the wire,” Graham told Sir Miles. Old Ned ignored this advice and snagged the seat of his trousers, tearing them.
When Old Ned muttered a complaint Peter gave him and ‘I-told-you-so’ look and then demonstrated the safe way to quickly get under a barbed wire fence, diagonally, feet first and on his back so he could see the bottom strand and hold it away from himself. As soon as he rolled to his feet he pointed to move.
In the long grass and trees beyond the fence they stopped. Graham laid his map out and quickly drew a pencil line on it. Within a minute he had placed his protractor on the grid lines and read off the bearing. “Two thirty seven. Take off the Magnetic Variation which is eight degrees and we have two twenty nine Magnetic,” he said. He took out his compass and set it, then stood up and lined it up. Pointing he said, “Goes across the lower slope of that hill.”
“That will do. Let’s go,” Peter agreed.
Graham set off at once, pushing through the waist high grass. The others followed in single file: Major Johnston, Peter, the Sig, Joy, Sir Richard with Sir Miles covering him, then Gwen and the two old men.
It was easy going with only a few logs and an occasional small gully to impede them. As they walked Peter kept glancing to the right to check that they were not visible
to the Confederates at the road junction. They were only about two hundred metres away and he was worried they might glimpse them through the trees. However he saw nothing of them.
They went steadily up a gentle slope, crossed a dirt vehicle track, then crossed the lower slopes of Hill 997. From there Peter gained glimpses of the railway out to their right and once even saw the main highway. Traffic on the highway was plainly audible.
Won’t be long now! he thought with relief. Boosted by that thought he hoisted the sack with the Scroll to his other shoulder and changed his grip on the SMG.
But with every step he regretted not driving as his chafing grew worse between his thighs. He realized he was so tired and hungry that he was feeling light headed and worried that it was affecting his judgement. There was also deep anxiety and he kept looking in all directions to ensure no Confederates were in sight and to check on the prisoners. Major Johnston looked quite calm but annoyed. The Signaller was angry and sweating. Sir Richard looked sullen and shifty eyed.
They came to a barbed wire fence near the bottom of the slope. All had a drink while the fence was negotiated. After that their course led them across a shallow valley with a small dry creek in its bottom. The going was easy and there was insufficient cover within a few hundred metres for any group to move into position to ambush them.
They might spot us but will have trouble getting close, Peter thought. He was deeply worried about the Confederates getting ahead and setting an ambush. Once again he swapped the sack with the Scroll to his other shoulder. Carrying it was causing his forearm muscles and fingers to cramp up.
Their course led them up over a wide, gentle ridge and then down to another similar dry creek. As they approached the bottom Graham, who had been a hundred paces ahead, pointed to his right. Peter saw that a dirt vehicle track was running parallel to them. He took out his map and checked. It was, as he remembered, the dirt track that went off at the place where the 7 Platoon HQ had been. It ran along roughly parallel to the old railway. The Wild River was beyond that and then the highway, all running along the bottom of the valley towards Herberton. The dense line of trees along the river hid the highway but the traffic on it was now clearly audible. The town was now only 2 kilometres away in a straight line.
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