The Cadet Sergeant Major (12 page)

Capt Conkey tugged at his chin. “Yes. You may use the telephone then. But you are not to mention that you want to go home. If she is not well it would be unfair to her to worry her. Promise me that.”

“Yes sir. I promise,” Cadet Dibble replied.

“Alright. Could you unlock the phone for him Lt Maclaren? And log the phone call,” Capt Conkey agreed. “Hullo CSM. Things seem to be going smoothly. Have you eaten yet?”

“Not yet sir. I will wait till these last ones from 1 Platoon finish in the shower.”

“OK. Let's see how the food is.”

OC and CSM walked into the mess hall side by side. At a table in the corner Lt Maclaren was writing in the Telephone Log. Cadet Dibble had just finished dialling and lifted the phone to his mouth. As Graham walked past him he heard Dibble say, “Hello Mum. It's me. Mum please come and get me. I hate it here and want to go home.”

Lt Maclaren looked up in shock. He had been about to walk away to allow Dibble privacy for his phone call. Now he stood beside him and glared. Graham and Capt Conkey stopped in surprise then moved over to them. Graham was instantly angry but restrained himself. Capt Conkey held out his hand for the phone.

Dibble looked scared, then defiant. Reluctantly he handed the phone to Capt Conkey. Capt Conkey turned to Lt Maclaren. “2ic, you and the CSM inspect the meal. I will deal with this.”

“Yes sir.”

Graham met Dibble's eyes and gave him a look of scathing contempt. Dibble dropped his gaze. Tears began to course down his cheeks. Graham snorted in disgust and followed the 2ic into the kitchen.

When he and the 2ic returned ten minutes later Capt Conkey said, “I have convinced Cadet Dibble's parents that he should stay and that they should not waste their time, money and petrol coming to get him. I will speak to him later. I am too angry at the moment. There is nothing wrong with his mother and she is not having an operation.” He glared at Dibble, who visibly cringed. “Go and join your platoon Cadet Dibble. Now CSM, have all the cadets eaten?”

“All except HQ and myself sir. The OOCs can eat now,” Graham replied.

“Good. Let's eat. Then we can shuttle them back to camp.”

It took an hour and a half to do this. As soon as the staff were served HQ also sat down to eat, Graham among them. After that HQ were set to work under Peter's direction to do the washing up and to clean the area. The Control Group were sent to clean showers and toilets. 4 Platoon were bundled onto the vehicles along with part of 3 Platoon and Lt Maclaren and were driven off. Capt Conkey and Lt Standish went with them. The vehicles returned in twenty minutes. With them they brought Sgt Crane and LCpl Martin who had been the piquet at the bivouac area.

Graham looked hard at Crane but said nothing beyond instructions on what to do. He then sought out Stephen and warned him to keep a close eye on Dibble.

The remainder of 3 Platoon and all of 2 Platoon were ordered onto the vehicles. Graham noticed Erika Goltz laughing amidst a group of boys. The sight made him press his lips together and frown. As she went to climb onto the truck her foot slipped.

“F….!” she cried. “Push me up you pricks.”

Graham's mouth hardened. “Mind your language Corporal Goltz.”

She gave a half sneer as she scrambled up, helped by a push on her bum by Sgt Brown. After the vehicles drove off Graham stood deep in worried thought for a few minutes. Then he went and gave Stephen instructions before heading for the shower.

Graham had the showers to himself. He undressed and washed himself as quickly as he could. He was just lacing up his boots when he heard the vehicles return. Outside again he watched Stephen load 1 Platoon onto the truck and one Rover. Graham noted that no-one spoke to Dibble or helped him onto the truck. The boy looked wretched.

Peter reported that the mess halls and kitchen were clean. Graham went with him on a quick tour of inspection.

“Good Pete. Load as many of HQ as you can into the back of the other Land Rover. You go with them.”

Lt Maclaren was the driver of the Rover. “Are you coming CSM?”

“I will go with the last vehicle sir. I will make sure this place is left clean. That will give me a chance to do my washing,” Graham replied.

“Fair enough,” the 2ic laughed. He climbed in and drove off. Graham went to the laundry and quickly washed the uniforms and socks he had been wearing for the first three days.

Lt Hamilton returned in the truck. After a word to the cooks he loaded all the remaining cadets: HQ and the Control Group; and set off back to Sandy Ridge. Graham rode in the cab beside him. The drive back to the bivouac area only took seven minutes. It was a lovely evening, cool but not cold, no cloud and millions of stars. The glow from campfires indicated the positions of the platoon areas as they turned off the Canning Road.

“I hope there is no mischief tonight,” Graham observed. There was no training. It was a ‘free' night with platoon ‘campfires'. As he climbed out of the cab after the truck had stopped he was met by Peter.

“Can HQ have their own campfire?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” Graham replied. “There are enough of us, and the officers won't want us at their fire.”

While Peter was organizing this Graham dumped his washing and webbing at his hutchie and reported to the OC that all were back. Then he did a circuit of the platoons to see how things were developing. All appeared to be going well. The cadets looked to be in high spirits. That made Graham think of Dibble. A check with Stephen showed that Dibble was lying in his hutchie on his own. Satisfied that all was under control Graham returned to HQ where a fire now provided a cheerful welcome.

The jokes and stories had begun but first Graham hung his washing on a clothes line tied above the hutchie.

“Now to relax for a few minutes,” he said to himself. He strolled over to the HQ fire and sat down beside Allison.

Graham carried his pack over to the HQ campfire and seated himself on it. The cadets around the fire all seemed to be happy. They included a few cadets from other platoons as it was a ‘social' night and they were free to visit their friends. Henning was just finishing a joke as Graham dug into his webbing for his stove. There was a roar of laughter. Graham joined in. As he did he looked up and met Allison's eyes. They sparkled in the firelight. ‘Heavens she is pretty!' he thought; then more soberly, ‘She is giving me the eye.' That made his heart lift and pound. He could not resist returning her smile.

‘I mustn't encourage her. But Oh! Wouldn't I love to!' he thought. He looked longingly at her face. His gaze lingered on the soft skin of her throat. She looked so desirable that his mouth went dry. ‘Stop it!' he reproved himself. He bent to prepare a cup of coffee.

When he looked up he shifted his gaze to look at others in the group. The gaze became a gape when it encountered Kellie's cleavage. She had her two top buttons undone and when she leaned forward to nudge a stick into the fire he could see right inside her shirt.

‘Oh my God! I should tell her to do those buttons up,' he thought. But he didn't. Instead he had a good long look. ‘I think she knows and is doing it deliberately,' he mused. He felt his lust stirring and looked away in case anyone noticed. This time he observed Kate.

‘Kate looks beautiful too; and the firelight heightens the effect,' he decided. Then an amused thought crossed his mind, to be chased by a little nagging worry. ‘Kate looks like she is giving Pete the ‘come on'. I hope he doesn't respond.' He considered this for a moment. ‘No. Pete's too sensible. He isn't all that interested in girls.'

Graham dismissed the idea and shifted his scrutiny to others. Denton gave him a big smile. He blinked and had to restrain himself from goggling. Denton was wearing a T-shirt instead of her camouflage jacket. This emphasized her large breasts.

‘Holy Moses, Denton is displaying her lures tonight! I'd better keep an eye on her too,' Graham thought. That idea made him smile. His gaze kept wandering from Allison's face, to Kellie's cleavage, to Denton. He found it very enjoyable. ‘Perhaps I should speak to Denton?' he wondered. Briefly he debated whether her shirt was too revealing but decided not to say anything.

Graham looked back at Allison. She smiled again. He smiled back and sighed. ‘Oh! If only I wasn't the CSM. I reckon I would have fun tonight!' He finished making the coffee, laughed at a joke by Parnell about a travelling salesman, drank, rinsed the cup and packed it. All the while his mind speculated. ‘If I am thinking that way so will other boys. I'd better stay alert. Oh! What a hypocrite I am.'

He enjoyed another long look at both Kellie and Denton. Then his guilty conscience got the better of him. ‘Stop it. Duty first! I'd better check the troops,' he decided. ‘That will remove me from temptation as well,' he told himself. Having decided that he stood up, picked up his pack and webbing and carried them back to his hutchie. He stored his gear and collected his hat. As he straightened up he found Allison at his side.

“Where are you going Graham?” she asked.

“Just to check the platoons,” he replied. He thought about reminding her not to call him by his first name but as they were out of earshot of the others he did not.

Allison said, “Can I come with you?”

Graham's mind raced. They would have to walk for at least a hundred metres in dark bush between each platoon. It would be very easy to make a little detour. He felt desire surge in him. ‘I'd love to kiss her,' he thought. ‘And she might even let me go a bit further!' His mind dwelt on the possibility of caressing her body. Temptation warred with conscience. He sighed then shook his head. “I would like that but we'd better not. It could start rumours.”

He could not see her face clearly as she had her back to the fire but he thought she pouted. There was certainly disappointment in her voice when she answered. “Could we meet later?”

Graham's heart began to pound. He wasn't used to such a direct approach. For an instant he was sorely tempted. All the fire in his blood urged him to say ‘yes'; or even ‘maybe'. Instead he bit his lip. “I'd love to,” he replied. “But we can't. I am the CSM. It would be wrong. After camp I would love to take you out. Can we talk about it later?”

“Yes, alright,” she replied. But she didn't sound very keen. Graham hesitated, moving restlessly from one foot to the other. He knew that opportunity was knocking. ‘You only get one chance,' he told himself. ‘And, as Stephen says, “You never catch up on the ones you miss out!”.' He bit his lip again. His hands clenched and unclenched as desire flooded through him. For a few seconds he felt an almost overpowering urge to reach out to her.

Instead he turned and strode off into the night.

1 Platoon was the first campfire he visited. At first he stood at the back of the group to get the ‘feel' of the situation. Then he moved in to stand beside Stephen. Hodgins was telling a joke. Graham looked at the faces clustered around the fire in a half-moon. Most seemed happy.

‘Good. Stephen has a firm grip on things,' Graham decided. He nodded a greeting to CUO Sherry. “Evening Ma'am,”

As he chatted to the CUO his gaze roved across the group. ‘There are Waters and Ross, the little germs! And hmmm. Lofty Ward appears to be sitting very close to Wendy Werribee. Hmmm. They look very friendly. Hmmm. But at least they are here and haven't snuck off into the night. Now, where is Dibble? Ah, there he is, sulking at the back. This all looks OK. I will go to 2 Platoon- as soon as Hodgins finishes this joke.'

It was a good joke; just clean enough to be acceptable in mixed company. It kept Graham chuckling most of the way across to 2 Platoon.

Their campfire was also going very well. Roger had his section up doing a skit, a mime called ‘The truck ride'. This was a send-up of Lt Hamilton's driving; and they did it very well.

‘Good old Roger,' Graham grinned. He joined in the laughter and applause and said hello to CUO Grenfell and to Lt McEwen who was visiting as well. Sgt Copeland stepped into the circle of firelight.

“That was good 6 Section. Now, next on the program, by popular demand is, drum roll please,” she joked. Then she turned to Graham and said, “The CSM!” Her eyes twinkled with mirth. There was clapping and loud cheers. Some booed and hissed but it was mostly good natured.

Graham had not planned to take part but he at once stepped forward, mind racing. ‘Hmmm. What can I do? Ah yes- Hodgins' joke.' So he told that, receiving a gratifying response. Sgt Copeland again stepped forward.

“Thank you CSM. Now, next will be the 4 Section skit.”

Graham stayed to watch Barbara Brassington lead her section through another send-up they called ‘The navigators'.

‘She is beautiful,' he thought. ‘No, more than that, she is magnificent.' He watched entranced as the fire light made her red hair gleam and shimmer. ‘The flame in her hair matches the fire in her personality,' he mused. ‘I wonder if?' He fantasized for a minute, then mulled over his chances if he made a pass at her. Then he pulled a wry face. ‘I might win, but I don't know if I could stand the pace. She might be a bit too fiery for me!'

He shifted his gaze to Margaret. She was looking at him and at once gave him a bright smile. Her cheerful face looked very attractive in the firelight. ‘She's a good kid,' he thought. ‘And I do like her.' Margaret had never made any secret of her love for him. It annoyed him a bit because people assumed she was his girl. He also felt a bit guilty that he did not return the love in equal measure; and that he was constantly attracted to other girls.

At the end of the skit Margaret walked over to him. For an instant Graham had the impression she was going to hug him and he almost put out his arms to respond.

“Are you ‘Sir' or ‘Graham' at the moment,” she asked with an impish grin. She had a very pleasant voice, warm and comforting.

“Sir I'm sorry to say,” Graham replied with a smile. “I am just checking the platoons.”

“Can I walk with you?”

‘Two in one hour!' Graham thought. He was tempted to say yes but shook his head. “Better not. People would get the wrong idea.”

“I suppose so,” Margaret replied. She gently touched his arm then stood close beside him to watch a skit by Fiona Davies' section. Graham stood there with mixed emotions. He had almost put his arm around her as an instinctive action. He liked Margaret a lot. ‘But it's not love,' he told himself. That idea made him uncomfortable as he knew it was in her case. He suspected his real motives were not very honourable. Admitting his love for her would cramp his style with other girls he found more physically attractive.

After a few minutes Graham excused himself. Margaret gave a little wry smile and touched his arm again. To escape he walked quickly away towards 3 Platoon.

Even before he arrived it was obvious that things there were not as they should be. There was a lot of movement. The fire was small and only five people sat beside it. Half a dozen more stood in groups or walked around.

‘The fire is not the focus of activity here,' Graham decided. He stopped in the firelight and looked around. He noted three more cadets sitting around a hexi stove near their hutchie, plus a couple standing further off in the shadows. ‘Only one corporal here: Gallon,' he noted uneasily. ‘Where are the CUO and platoon sergeant?' he wondered. The whole event was plainly disorganized and unsupervised.

There was no obvious mischief underway so Graham did not try to bring things under any sort of control. ‘No trouble yet,' he decided. ‘But there soon will be. I wonder where CUO White is? And Sgt Brown?' Graham turned and strode through the dark bush, his mouth set in a grim line. He knew the OC's policy. Yes, it was a free night. But the CUOs and Sergeants had responsibilities for discipline and leadership and were expected to stay with their platoons. ‘At least one of them should be here,' he mused.

First he went to 4 Platoon. There he was relieved to find everything quiet. The platoon members were mostly grouped around a small fire with both CUO Bates and Sgt Griffin present. There was none of the boisterousness or hilarity which could be heard coming from 1 and 2 Platoons, just quiet jokes and talk. He said good evening, stayed for a couple of minutes, then moved out into the night.

For a few minutes Graham stood in the darkness listening, his eyes questing. From where he stood he could see every fire. Small groups and individuals could be seen as silhouettes as they moved from fire to fire. His gaze went back to the faces around the 4 Platoon fire.

‘There is Cpl Fredericks from 3 Platoon,' he noted. Then another thought struck him. ‘Erika Goltz! Where is she?'

She hadn't been with any of the platoons. A nasty suspicion formed and sent Graham striding towards another campfire- the Control Group's.

Goltz was there, listening to a disgustingly filthy joke and laughing. So was Marcia Denton. Bax was telling the joke and he hesitated and looked guilty when Graham appeared in the firelight.

“Keep it clean Cpl Bax,” Graham warned. That drew a sneer from Sgt Crane. Graham would have liked to order Goltz and Denton back to their platoons but knew he had no real excuse. It was a free night. ‘At least I know where they are,' he sighed. ‘Now, where the devil are White and Brown?'

Graham was very aware that his arrival was resented and he braced himself against the mood of hostility. But he did not walk off because of it. That sort of thing just made him stubborn. So he stayed for a few minutes, observing Denton flirting with Cpl Clyde. LCpl Martin was leering at her and taking every opportunity to join in the conversation.

‘Poor old Martin!' Graham thought. ‘He must be desperate if he is trying to win on with her.'

Next Graham walked directly back across the open ground to 3 Platoon's fire. There was still no sign of White or Brown and horseplay was developing, cadets running amongst the hutchies.

“Stop running!” Graham bellowed. The running ceased but the platoon still did not coalesce around the fire. It was annoying. It was also potentially a safety hazard. Unsupervised teenage cadets could easily create a situation where an accident was likely to happen.

He turned and headed for the officer's fire. The OC and Lt Standish were there happily chatting. The other OOCs were out walking around the area supervising. Graham stood and waited till Capt Conkey finished his story.

“Yes CSM?”

“Minor problem in Three Platoon sir. The Platoon Commander and Sergeant are not there. They haven't been there for half an hour at least and the platoon is starting to play up,” Graham reported.

“Damn! OK, I will come.”

“It's alright sir. I can handle it.”

“I am sure you can, but it involves a CUO. I want to see for myself,” Capt Conkey replied. He picked up a powerful torch and stood up. They walked back to the 3 Platoon fire, meeting Lt Maclaren on the way. He had not seen either White or Brown.

“I'll go around the other platoons again,” Lt Maclaren offered.

“It is very aggravating,” Capt Conkey said as he and Graham resumed walking. “The main point of tonight, apart from giving the kids a rest, is to give the platoons a chance to absorb their new recruits into a platoon identity. How are the other platoons?”

Graham described what he had seen, glad that he had made the effort.

As they approached 3 Platoon's fire two girls appeared out of the bush beyond it and walked past. ‘That's odd,' Graham thought. ‘They are girls from 4 Platoon, Simone Ramsey and Susan Smart. What were they doing in the bush over beyond another platoon's area?' He watched them walk on into the darkness towards their own platoon. He pursed his lips. ‘I hope they haven't been up to mischief,' he worried. ‘But there is a girl's latrine down that way,' he told himself. He was about to wipe the incident from his mind when, just as he and the OC arrived at the fire, two more figures appeared out of the bush from the same direction: CUO White and Sgt Brown.