The Cadet Corporal (32 page)

“Well done! You are a bloody great scout,” Graham told him.

“Bloody great crawler alright,” Andrews added, his voice tinged with jealousy.

“Quiet. Let's go and collect Slim and Carnes,” Graham said.

“I'd leave the useless bastard,” Andrews commented.

“Shut up or you can go back on your own,” Graham threatened. He set off along the top of the bank, his eyes and ears still alert for defending patrols. ‘We will look silly if we just blunder into a patrol on the way home,' he thought. What was really nagging at him was the problem of how to get back over the highway. That problem was brought home by the sounds of a series of battles ahead of them as the other raiding parties ran into lines of defenders at the highway bridge and up along the highway past Bare Ridge.

Anxiety continued to grow in Graham's chest. Now he was worrying about Carnes. However he found him sitting quietly with a very relieved Slim under the same thorn bush.

“You OK Cadet Carnes? Do you need to go to the doctor or anything?” Graham asked.

“I'm alright,” Carnes replied.

“Bloody sook!” Andrews teased.

“Shut up Cadet Andrews. Now, no talking. Let's go back and find that radio,” Graham said. He led off along the fence, walking quickly now, but still alert. The others followed.

Five minutes walking had them at the junction of a fence that went off west and obviously enclosed the patch of overgrown thorn scrub which contained the ruins of the meatworks. For simplicity of navigation to retrace his steps to find the radio Graham wanted to go back through that paddock, but concern over Carne's having another fit about ghosts if he went past the ruins caused him to vary the route. This time they went left through the fence which ran along the top of the bank, then followed around the outside of the ruins along another fence, staying just back in the edge of the scrub.

This brought them to the highway about a hundred metres up from where Graham thought they had crossed it on the way in. By then the night was quite silent, except for an occasional car. He stopped the patrol under cover and crept forward to the edge of the road to look. Lying on his stomach amid the grass and burrs, he strained his eyes and ears to try to locate the defenders.

By this time he was becoming depressed as the exhilaration of reaching the bridge wore off. Not only did he still have to get back across the highway, but he had to find that radio. Then he had to get what was left of his patrol back to camp by midnight and that only gave him about one hour to move at least 3 kilometres. ‘Then I have to explain to Capt Conkey how I lost half my patrol,' he thought unhappily.

CHAPTER 32

REPORT

As Graham lay alone in the darkness depression began to grip him as he thought about how he would report to Capt Conkey. ‘Lost a radio sir. Lost half my patrol sir. What will he say?' Graham agonized.

After a couple of minutes of gloomy contemplation Graham stirred himself into activity. ‘Oh well, no point in putting it off. We had better get back,' he told himself. The thought of adding to his problems by being late got him moving. He had been unable to detect any sound or sign of defenders so decided the best tactic was to line his section up and all cross at once, then depend on speed to get away from any pursuit. ‘Then we will have to try to dodge that patrol on the other side,' he thought.

He made his way back to where the patrol waited and quickly briefed them on what to do. Andrews then annoyed him by moaning, “I've got sore feet. Do we have to walk all the way back across that sand?”

It was on the tip of Graham's tongue to tell him that if that was how he felt he could walk down to the bridge and surrender but he bit the comment back. “Just get up and follow me quietly,” he hissed.

Andrews muttered something about being tired and cold but he got up and began walking. Graham led them to the highway and personally spaced them out three paces apart along the fence and told them to crawl to the edge of the bitumen. This led to more grumbles about prickles but he was in such a bad mood that they obeyed.

As Graham reached the verge of the highway he heard voices calling out a hundred metres or so up to his left. Quite clearly on the cool night air he heard a voice shout, “Sit down and shut up so we can count you!”

‘They are pulling in their guards or a patrol has returned and they are checking they haven't lost anyone,' he deduced. For a moment he was tempted to just wait till they were gone. A glance at his watch dispelled that idea. ‘We will be late if we don't get a move on.' A car was coming from his right. He hissed to the others to lie flat but risked a look as it came across the bridge. As he had expected there were still cadets standing on guard there.

As the car went past Graham put his head up and used the vehicle's headlights to show him if there were any defenders up the road. A group of cadets was illuminated at the bend a hundred metres away. ‘Now is the time to cross, while their eyes are dazzled,' he thought.

t that he stood up and called quietly, “Cross now. No running. Go!”

To his relief the cadets on either side of him rose from the grass and padded quickly across the road. On the other side they waded through the long grass to the fence then crawled under. Andrews got snagged and did some swearing and grumbling till Graham snapped at him to shut up.

Graham checked that Carnes was still with them then told them to wait.

“Where are you going?” Andrews asked.

“To give myself up to the enemy, what do you think!” Graham retorted.

“You aren't!” Andrews cried anxiously.

“Oh shut up! Have some sense. I'm just going to find the radio you bloody drongo!” Graham snapped. As soon as he said it he regretted it, knowing that he shouldn't have called Andrews that but was now feeling very anxious and depressed. Guilt at all the mistakes he thought he had made had given him a very short temper.

Leaving the others sitting in the grass behind the fence he hurried down towards the bridge, moving at a crouch. He was very worried about finding the radio, even though part of his mind told him it would be easy to locate in daylight. At that image he shook his head. ‘I don't want that sort of humiliation. I've stuffed up too much as it is.'

And there it was, just lying amid some trampled grass. With a shake of his head and a sigh of relief Graham scooped the radio up and hurried back to the others.

“Did you find it?” Andrews asked as Graham handed the radio to Carnes.

“No Ando, I snuck up and cut an enemy sentries throat and took his,” Graham retorted sarcastically. “Ok, let's move.”

Graham did not bother taking out his compass. He just walked north using his instinct for direction and the fall of the ground to guide him. Nor did he bother much with scouting, reasoning that any defending patrols would have been pulled back to the highway by this. ‘If we run into one we will just fight them,' he thought. At that moment he felt in the mood for a fight. He angled across the slope until he found a cattle pad running the right way just up from the dark tangle of the Anabranches. It was easy enough going as the stars gave enough light to avoid the thorn bushes. Despite mumbles from Andrews, Graham had them back near the gate leading down to the Bunyip by 2310.

He had only just noted the grey ribbons of the wheel ruts on his left when he heard a noise. It came from the left rear. Signalling urgently he got the others to crouch under cover. Moving behind a bush Graham peered up the vehicle track, then felt a thrill of anxiety. A dark figure was hurrying down it, almost at a run. That puzzled Graham. Just one person? He strained his eyes in the night but could not make out any others. The approaching person was a cadet. Even in the starlight his hat, camouflage uniform and webbing were visible.

‘Lost maybe?' Graham wondered. He waited until the person was only a few paces away then quietly called, “Halt!”

The cadet let out a loud cry of fright and sprang back as Graham stood up. It was LCpl Franks. “Oh shit! You bloody scared me then,” Franks gasped. “I thought you was a big pig. I seen one earlier.”

“What are you doing? Where are the others?” Graham asked, casting anxious glances in all directions. The mention of pigs made him worry and he found the Anabranches a spooky place to be in the middle of the night.

“They all got captured, but I got away,” Franks replied.

‘Ran away more like,' Graham thought, but then he remembered just how useful the decoys had been and decided to believe. ‘I have to weld this section together so I'd better not make it harder by accusing people of lying.' he told himself. “That's great,” he said. “You blokes did a really great job at drawing away the enemy patrols.”

“Did you reach the bridge?” Franks asked.

“Yes we did. Halyday planted the bomb,” Graham replied.

Halyday came forward and wanted to describe in detail how he had done it but Graham stopped him. “We have to get back,” he said. “Save it for later. Cadet Carnes, call HQ and tell them we are at the north end of the Anabranches.”

While Graham opened the wire gate Carnes tried calling. There was no reply. “They aren't answering,” Carnes replied.

“Is it turned on?” Halyday asked, making Graham blush for not thinking of it himself.

Graham moved to the radio and looked, then reached across and turned the on-off switch. At once the radio crackled. “Ok try again,” he said.

As the patrol filed through the gate Carnes called HQ. Graham closed the gate behind them and was relieved to hear HQ answering. “Where are we?” Carnes asked.

Graham took the handset and told HQ, then gave ETA 15 minutes. He was feeling much better now. Not only had he recovered the radio and another missing patrol member but they should make it back by midnight. ‘Even if we don't get back in time HQ know we are alright and won't be worrying,' he told himself. ‘Now it is just a walk.'

It wasn't quite that simple though. The walk was a kilometre on the soft sand and that took the 15 minutes. Andrews grumbled all the way, either about sore muscles or the cold. It was getting cool but the exercise was enough to make them perspire. The sweat chilled on the skin as a cool breeze was blowing up the river bed. Then Graham miscalculated and went too far to the right. In the starlight he did not notice the break which indicated the mouth of the Canning in the black line of trees which lined the far bank. That brought them to a deep, wide pool of water.

Graham stared at it, wondering how deep it was. He could see the stars reflected on its surface and thought it was the pool at the mouth of the Canning. Telling the others to wait he dropped his webbing and waded in to check how deep it was. He was now so anxious to get back he did not care if he got a bit wet. In the end he got more than a bit wet. The bed of the river was soft sand and the slope suddenly increased sharply. Unable to stop himself he slithered and floundered, then slipped right in.

The water was well over his head and he had to swim. With a lot of splashing, and feeling really foolish, he floundered back to the shallows.

“How's the water Kirky?” Halyday asked with a chuckle.

“Corporal Kirk to you Cadet Halyday,” Graham snapped, his frail ego burning at the mistake.

“Yes Kirky.”

Andrews then whined, “I ain't going ter cross there!”

“None of us is!” Graham snapped. He was dripping wet and worrying about his torch, map and notebook. He emptied his pockets, the placed the sodden contents in a plastic bag which he pushed into his webbing.

Then Milson said, “There aren't any crocodiles are there?”

“No!” Graham snapped, but he wasn't sure and it must have sounded in his voice as they all stared anxiously at the brooding, dark water.

“What about Bunyips?” Milson asked.

‘Oh for heaven's sake!' Graham thought as he noted the scared looks on the faces of the cadets. “There are no such things as bunyips,” he said.

“So why is this called the Bunyip River?” Milson queried.

Graham was unable to answer that. He just shook his head in exasperation. “If it was dangerous Capt Conkey wouldn't do an exercise here,” he said. All he now wanted to do was get back to camp. The water had been warmer than the air but now it began to chill him and he shivered. “Let's go!”

He led them left until he was sure he had located the mouth of the Canning and the small island. Then, what had been simple in daylight, was difficult in the dark. While crossing the rocks and wading the narrow channel both Franks and Carnes slipped and fell. Carnes let out a cry of fear and went right in with a loud splash.

‘Bloody hel1, the radio!' Graham thought in dismay as Carnes floundered around. He at once jumped in and grabbed hold of the radio and heaved Carnes upright. Carnes began to sob and had obviously received a real shock. Graham snatched the handset and squeezed the pressel switch, “Four, this is Four Bravo, radio check, over.”

There was no answer and he didn't think the radio was transmitting. That got him all depressed and upset again. He snapped testily at Carnes, “Oh shut up! It was only bloody water. You swam in it yesterday. Now get moving!”

The patrol stumbled, slithered and splashed its way across to the island, then waded across to the far bank. After that it was easy, but tiring. As they trudged up the bed of the Canning in the dark it seemed very spooky as the overhanging trees cast weird shadows. The scuttle of small animals up the bank and the mournful hooting of curlews added to this feeling. Then an instinct stopped Graham and he froze.

Straining his eyes he moved back a pace. “Halyday, have you got your torch?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“Shine it here,” Graham said.

Halyday did and Graham felt a chill of fear. He had been right. Sliding slowly across the sand in front of him was a snake. It was only about a metre long but it was a brown of some sort. “Bloody hell! I nearly trod on him,” he croaked through a mouth that had suddenly gone dry.

“He's not moving very fast,” Franks observed.

“Probably too cold,” Graham said, staring in fascination at the repulsive thing. He loathed and feared snakes and the sight of it made him shudder.

“So am I,” Halyday added.

The snake had been apparently ignoring them up till then but Andrews now threw a stick at it, causing it to curl swiftly into the ‘S' shape ready to strike. The cadets all backed hastily away, Graham almost tripping over Carnes as he did. “You bloody idiot Andrews!” he snapped.

To Graham's relief the snake now slid off into the flood debris against the base of a nearby tree. It was only then that Graham realised there were several other snake tracks showing clearly in the sand. He had to struggle with the urge to have Halyday lead with his torch versus the military sense of doing things correctly with no lights. Pride finally won and he told Halyday to turn the torch off.

No sooner had they started walking again than a pig went snuffling off up the bank into the rubber vines fifty paces ahead of them. Graham's hair stood on end with fright and Franks cried out in fear. They stood listening, ready to run. The pig snorted and snuffled and crashed off over the top of the bank. Silence settled, to be broken by the eerie wail of a curlew close by.

“What's that?” Carnes asked, his voice quavering with fear.

“Only a bloody curlew,” Graham snapped. All he now wanted to do was get back to the bivouac area but it seemed further than he remembered.

Milson didn't help by saying, “I was told they are the ghosts of dead Aborigines calling out.”

Remembering Carnes' earlier mention of ghosts Graham groaned inwardly and said, “Rubbish! Now stop talking and let's go home.”

“That's where I want to go, home,” Milson agreed.

Graham ignored him and tramped on along the sandy bed under the trees. By then his leg muscles were feeling really strained and his feet felt hot. To hear voices ahead was an enormous relief and then a sentry challenged. It was a cadet from 3 Platoon.

‘Thank God! Made it!' Graham thought. After giving the password he trudged on past where 3 Platoon's packs were but there was no sign of the platoon. At 2 Platoon's area there were voices and movement and Graham was met by Sgt Grenfell.

“Ah Cpl Kirk. Good! Your patrol can stop here and you report to Capt Conkey.”

“I've lost a few,” Graham replied, wishing to get it over quickly.

“Lost them! How many? Where? Who?” Sgt Grenfell cried.

“Captured. They aren't out in the bush,” Graham answered.