The Cadet Sergeant Major (11 page)

“I don't think Costigan is that good sir. He is lazy and has poor leadership. And definitely not Brown. He has a bad attitude.”

“What about Allan Griffin?” Lt Maclaren enquired. “Or Crane?”

“Both are in Year Twelve sir. They will have left school next year. Even if they didn't Griffin is useless. He couldn't ..... couldn't (His mind struggled to think of a simile that was appropriate to say to the teachers!).. organize a ... er.. anything sir.”

Capt Conkey chuckled. “And Crane?”

“I don't trust him sir. He's a surly bully with a chip on his shoulder. He would do a poor job of leadership.”

“Hmmm. So we might have a problem. What about next year's CSM? Who do you recommend as your replacement? Remember my preferred policy is to have six good Year 11 sergeants who can be promoted; five to be CUOs and one to be CSM, so that the CSM has been a sergeant the year before.”

“I wasn't a sergeant sir,” Graham reminded.

“I know that. And I don't like having to do that. We've done it before; pushed a corporal up to Warrant Officer, but it is risky. In your case I wasn't worried, but we've had problems in the past from doing it,” the OC replied.

Graham absorbed the implied compliment. He knew that there had been CSMs previously who had been pushed up too quickly. Some had lost confidence, floundered out of their depth from a lack of maturity and self-confidence, as well as from inadequate technical knowledge. In one case he was aware of the elevation above the peer group had caused great friction, ill-will and problems of insubordination as well as lack of co-operation and communication. The position of CSM was so important to the smooth running of the unit that the selection of the right person was one of the critical decisions.

After a moments hesitation Graham sucked in his breath and offered a suggestion which he knew would lay his own fate out. “I could always stay in the job sir. That is if you are happy with my performance.”

“More than happy CSM. You've been in the job nine months now and I've not regretted the choice once. But no, it wouldn't be fair to you, or to the person whose chance you would block. No.”

Graham nodded. He knew the unit policy. At the end of each year every posting was wiped clean. People were either promoted, or moved sideways into the Control Group. Nobody normally got two goes at a rank. This only happened when there were not enough suitable candidates. He remembered what Capt Conkey often said: ‘We aren't training an army unit for war. This is a youth development organization. We are providing opportunities to develop leaders- as many as possible.'

Now Graham was quite worried. If he couldn't remain CSM was he slated for the Control Group? It was a depressing thought. He braced himself for bad news. But he knew he had to ask.

“So what becomes of me sir?”

Capt Conkey looked at him with surprise on his face. “Why a CUO of course. I have you in mind to command the senior rifle platoon.”

There seemed to be a loud buzzing in Graham's head. He felt the relief wash over him.

“Are you sure sir?”

“Well, it's not a promise. But if you keep performing as well as you have been then it is about as certain as anything can be in this life,” Capt Conkey replied.

Graham felt a warm glow spreading from somewhere below his heart. ‘I will certainly keep trying as hard as I can,' he vowed. Aloud he said. “That still leaves us the problem of who should be CSM.”

“Who do you recommend?”

“None of the sergeants sir. I think that Bronsky, Bell and Copeland would be better as Platoon Commanders; and I don't believe Costigan is good enough. That only leaves the option of pushing up another corporal.”

“Hmmm. Yes. Maybe. Which corporals might make good sergeants; and which is the best for CSM?” Capt Conkey asked.

Again Graham paused. Three names immediately sprang to mind but he had to weigh them carefully. “I think there are three possibles for CSM sir, but I'd like to observe them more closely before making a decision.”

“Tell us anyway. We can all watch them then,” Capt Conkey said. “Remember we still have all the field exercises to go and they are always very revealing. So is the Leadership Evaluation Exercise on the second last day of camp. We don't have to make a final choice until October but we need to start looking hard now.”

“Yes sir. Well, for CSM: Barbara Brassington, Lofty Ward or Big Charlie Cox,” Graham answered.

“Barbara Brassington eh?”

“First choice sir. Lots of will power there; plus guts and determination. She has also got plenty of brains (‘As well as looks!' Graham thought). Lofty is good too but is not as fiery; a bit too much of a gentleman for the job. Big Charlie is a bit too stubborn.”

“And for sergeants?”

“Roger Dunning. I know he is my mate sir; but if he was no good he wouldn't be. He's got guts too; and he's honest and loyal. He won't let you down,” Graham said. His mind went back over the years to the various adventures Roger had shared in. Roger had been much chubbier then but was now only slightly tubby.

“Yes. I agree. Who else?”

“Fiona Davies definitely. Bert Lacey as CQ. For HQ sergeant I think either Allison Broadfoot or Kate O'Brien.”

Lt Maclaren spoke up. “Not Kellie Jones?” he queried.

“No sir. She's a bit of a tart. Besides, she is in Year Twelve.”

“Hmmm. Any others?” Capt Conkey asked.

Graham ran through the roll in his mind. “Cpl Scott possibly, although he is in Year 11.”

“Anne Hopewell?”

“Maybe. She's a bit too gentle and nice I think.”

“What about the Three Platoon corporals?”

“Definitely not Goltz sir. Or Fredericks. He's a drongo. Maybe Gallon. And not Melchert or Laidley.”

Lt Maclaren again spoke. “What about the corporals in the Control Group: Rankin, Bax or Clyde,” he asked.

“Rankin maybe. But not the other two, definitely no.”

Capt Conkey nodded slowly. “Very interesting,” he said. “Well, we can keep an open mind about all that. Thank you for your opinions CSM. Now, we will visit Two Platoon.”

After lunch Graham paraded Cadet Dibble to the OC. Once again he listened in a mixture of astonishment and disgust as Dibble whined and wept. Capt Conkey used arguments similar to those put by Graham but the boy shook his head.

“I still want to go home sir. I hate the place and I can't handle this. I'm not ready for it.”

“This is how you get ready,” Capt Conkey cried in exasperation. “By going away for short periods.”

“It's a long time to me. Please sir!”

“No. We can't take you home. It is over five hundred kilometres and I cannot spare a staff member to waste two days driving just because you think you are unhappy; quite apart from the expense.”

“Could I phone my parents sir?” Dibble pleaded. “My father will come and collect me if I call him.”

‘Strewth!' Graham thought. ‘My old man would skin me alive and disown me for being a weakling if I did that. What sort of parents has he got?'

“No,” Capt Conkey said. “If I let one person do that then, in fairness, I must let all. Stop being such a drag on everybody and try to take a positive view. You are a third of the way through the camp already.”

“But sir!”

“No! That will do. March him away CSM.”

“Sir!” Graham sprang to attention. “Cadet Dibble, about turn! Quick march!”

As he marched Dibble away Graham spotted two people heading across the open grassy area. He groaned. Sgt Brown and Cadet Clayfield. By his peculiar gait it was obvious what Clayfield had done.

“You keep going Cadet Dibble. Rejoin your platoon,” Graham ordered. He swerved to intercept the pair. Sgt Brown confirmed his suspicions: Clayfield had pooped his pants. Graham was incredulous, disgusted and baffled. Another teenager acting like a small child! He scratched his head and went back to report to Capt Conkey. He also looked perplexed.

Lt Hamilton returned with more water. The topic of Clayfield and his toilet training were temporarily dropped to have a discussion on how to organize the shower planned at the army camp that evening. The army camp was only a small establishment. It was primarily a stores depot, with a dozen large sheds full of army equipment and vehicles. There were only two Regular Army staff members stationed there permanently, plus some civilian caretakers. At the far end of the camp were a small group of huts including a kitchen and showers. This part of the camp was used by units for short camps and courses.

Graham knew the layout well as it was where the cadets did their annual promotion courses for 12 days each December. He had done two annual camps and two promotion courses there and was very fond of the place.

As there were only 9 showers in that part of the camp they agreed on a plan to roster the platoons by shuttling them in the two Land Rovers and a truck; and by making the cadets shower under supervision to hurry them through.

Once that was settled Graham followed the OC around to watch the training again. ‘At least that is going smoothly,' he thought as they walked back up to where HQ was doing a Signals and Command Post Exercise. As he approached the ‘CP' hutchie he saw Peter hard at work writing so he walked over to him. Peter was sitting on a log beside Cpl O'Brien who was encoding a message.

“How is it going Pete?”

Peter looked up. “Good. We are nearly finished. This lot are better than last year's group.”

“Fine. Don't forget that the OC wants all of HQ for that briefing at 1600 to explain tomorrow's training. After that your lot will be the first to go for a shower. They will then help serve dinner and will be last to eat and will do the washing up.”

“Are we eating at the army camp?”

“Yes. We have army cooks. They arrived today and have opened the kitchen.”

“Then the food might improve,” Peter observed.

Graham laughed. “Might! Make sure you have HQ ready to go at 1630.”

“I will.”

Graham nodded to Cpl O'Brien and went to join Capt Conkey at the officer's fire. The OOCs were discussing what might be wrong with Clayfield- whether his problem was psychological or physiological- and what could be done about it.

Graham had little to contribute. He kept an eye on the time and reminded Peter by pointing at his watch.

Peter called HQ together, checked that all the radio equipment was accounted for, and had all the stores placed in hutchies. By 1600 HQ were seated in a group ready. Graham tactfully drew Capt Conkey's attention to them.

For the next twenty minutes Capt Conkey briefed HQ on what they were to be prepared for the following day then handed them over to Graham.

Graham told Peter what they were to take and hurried them off to get ready. Then he quickly collected his own webbing, towel and laundry bag. He carried these over to where the officers were clustered around the vehicles. He waited till the OC had finished talking to Lt Standish then said, “I will go with the first vehicle sir. That way I can keep control of them at the other end.”

“Good idea CSM. Lt Standish will also be going to hurry the girls through the shower,” Capt Conkey replied.

“Oh sir! I was hoping that would be my job,” Graham quipped. The officers all laughed.

HQ came marching over, Denton at the rear. In her arms she was clutching an assortment of equipment, towels, clothing, mess gear and toiletries. Along the way she kept dropping items and having to stop to pick them up.

Peter shook his head. “For heavens sake Cadet Denton! Pack all those loose items in your webbing where they should be!” he cried in exasperation.

The cadets were loaded on the truck. Graham climbed into the cab beside Lt Hamilton who was the driver. Lt Standish went in the back to supervise for safety. Ten minutes later they debussed at the collection of huts at the far end of the army camp. Graham jumped down and looked around, his mind flooded by memories. The place had an unusual, deserted feel about it. The only people there were the three army cooks. Graham was used to the camp when it teemed with marching squads and shouted orders.

There was a small lawn which struggled for existence in the semi-desert environment. Graham allocated part of this to HQ for them to leave their gear. The girls were sent over to where Lt Standish stood on the veranda at the end of a hut where there were two showers and a toilet. He turned to the boys.

“Right, take off your boots, socks and shirts. Leave them here. Go into the shower building wearing only your trousers and thongs. Don't waste any time in there. Two minutes to finish under the shower. Five minutes total; then out and do your washing in the laundry. Sgt Bronsky, take five others and start in the laundry at once.”

Graham led the way over to the corrugated iron S.A.L. Block. Inside were six showers side by side in cubicles. Behind a partition were a urinal and four toilets. He pointed and said to the boys, “In you go, hurry. You have to be out before the truck arrives back with the next load.” He looked at his watch. The sound of approaching vehicles came to him. He went outside just as the two Land Rovers pulled up to disgorge eighteen members of 4 Platoon. The truck followed with the remainder of 4 Platoon and half of 3 Platoon. Graham called the sergeants over and showed them areas to put there platoons and repeated the instructions for rapid showering.

Within ten minutes he had the newly arrived cadets all lined up at the showers. That done he went inside the male showers to check how things were going. He was pleased to see that all of HQ was finished and had changed into clean uniforms. A queue of waiting cadets stood behind him. As soon as a cadet came out of a cubicle another cadet was sent in. Many looked embarrassed to be without their shirts on and he realized that for many it was the first time in their lives that they had ever been to a communal bath, and that they were shy.

Graham was amazed and could only shake his head over the state of the world. Satisfied things were moving fast enough he went back outside into the cool of the evening.

By then the two Land Rovers had returned and disgorged more of 3 Platoon. Small problems piled up thick and fast keeping him very busy. He made instant decisions and continually used his voice to keep things moving. When things seemed to be going well he went into the kitchen to introduce himself to the cook and to check on when the meal would be ready. Another visit to the showers satisfied him that his orders were being obeyed and that things were flowing as smoothly as could be expected.

As a measure to keep control he had ensured that the platoons were well separated from each other. Each had its own area of lawn. He found this invaluable as he could see at a glance the state of things.

“Sgt Bronsky! Get HQ dressed and over to the kitchen. Have a washing up point set up on a table at that door so people can rinse their mess gear on the way in. You post yourself there and inspect every cadet's mess gear. If it is dirty they wash it before going in. The rest of HQ are to help serve, except two who are to prepare and run a second wash-up point.”

Peter nodded and began urging HQ to get dressed and to hurry up. Graham stood in the road in the middle of the camp, watching and directing. The vehicles returned with 2 Platoon and half of 1 Platoon. The cadets were ordered to debus and he directed their sergeants where to take them. The Land Rovers were parked and Capt Conkey climbed out.

“How are thing going CSM?”

“Good sir.”

“Fine. I will just say hello to the cooks. I will leave things to you.”

“Sir.” Graham felt pleased by this approval. He looked around. “Corporal Henning, go and ask Sgt Bronsky to let me know as soon as the cooks are ready to serve the meal.”

“Yes CSM.”

Graham did another check of the male showers. It was a press of naked and semi-naked bodies, ribald comments and steam. The sergeants were busy urging the cadets to hurry. He went back to his central position and took stock. ‘4 Platoon all out of the shower and dressing. 3 Platoon in the showers and nearly done. 2 Platoon lining up and ready- but with no sergeant.' He smiled. ‘Can't ask Gwen to go in and supervise that lot. It would put her off men for life. Now, only the remainder of 1 Platoon and the Control Group to arrive. Hmmm. Who can supervise the 2 Platoon boys in the shower?'

SSgt Costigan was extracted from the kitchen to do this task. He reluctantly obeyed. Graham checked his watch. ‘Nearly 1800 and things are going well. Good.' He felt a fierce surge of pride and determination. The glow of Capt Conkey's praise, and the comment that he was being considered not only as a potential CUO but for the plum command- 4 Platoon, worked strongly in him.

‘I won't let Capt Conkey down. I will make a real success of this camp,' he told himself.

Peter came over to him from where wash basins of hot water were being placed on a table beside the entrance to the kitchen. “The cook says you can start sending them through,” he said.

“Thanks Sgt Bronsky. Sergeant Griffin! Start moving Four Platoon in to get their meal.”

“Yes sir.”

Dusk was setting in. It was pleasantly cool. Graham felt pleased. Cadets sat in busy groups or flowed in orderly lines. There was no confusion. The officers had nothing to do but sit in a group over near the canteen and talk. The truck returned with the last cadets and was parked. Lt Hamilton came over.

“These are the last CSM, except for two who have been left to piquet the area. We will bring them over as soon as we take the first lot back.”

“Who are they sir?”

“Two from the Control Group: Sgt Crane and LCpl Martin.”

Graham noted the names. 1 Platoon were directed where to put their gear. 3 Platoon were ordered to start eating. Everyone was in high spirits because of the hot shower and the change of scene and Graham had to yell to keep control as darkness set in. The camp was lit by a few street lights as well as lights in the buildings but there were still plenty of dark areas, quite apart from the surrounding bush.

“Good,” he murmured. “All flowing well. I will just nip into the dunny.”

Graham went into the shower block, pushing through the laughing throng of cadets to the rear of the building where a partition separated the toilet area from the showers. He found a vacant toilet cubicle and went in and closed the door. As he sat there, far from relaxed as he was trying to speed his bodily functions along, he could overhear snatches of conversations. Just as he was finished and was pulling up his trousers he heard a cadet at the urinal beside him.

“Hey ‘Grunter', did ya hear about that slack moll Goltz?”

Graham's ears pricked up. Goltz! Cpl Erika Goltz in 3 Platoon. And that was Cpl Bax talking to ‘Grunter' Clyde.

“Nah. What ?” Clyde replied.

Bax answered. “I heard she was offering it around for the boys last night.”

“Oh yeah? Who told ya?”

“Craney.”

“Did he get any?” Clyde asked.

“Reckons he did, but he had ter pay.”

“Oh yeah? How much?”

Graham strained his ears to hear more as the two walked away. He finished buttoning his trousers and shook his head in dismay, as much at the low price quoted as at the information. Hastily he completed dressing.

‘Crane!' Graham thought grimly. He hoped the story wasn't true, that it was just boasting, but in his heart he suspected it wasn't. Goltz had the reputation around the school of being of being a real moll. He went out, pushing his way past the cadets at the washbasins with the idea of questioning Bax and Clyde. Once outside he could not see them.

For a minute he stood there undecided. ‘No, I won't confront them. I will just be forewarned and keep a better watch. If there is going to be trouble then it will be tonight. Hello- what is that Dibble wimp doing talking to the OC and 2ic?'

Graham strode over to them. Dibble pointed into the mess hall attached to the kitchen and said. “But sir I am really worried. My mother is sick and is due to go into hospital for an operation. I just want to let her know I am alright.”