The Cadet Sergeant Major

© Copyright C. R. Cummings 2008

This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealings for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the
Copyright Act,
no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. The right of C. R. Cummings to be identified as the moral rights author has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright Amendment(Moral Rights) Act 2000
(Commonwealth).

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

This eEdition: ISBN 978-0-9871239-5-4

DoctorZed Publishing 2011
www.doctorzed.com

Chapter 1: THE CADET SERGEANT MAJOR

Chapter 2: KATE

Chapter 3: LOVE HURTS

Chapter 4: MORNING ROUTINE

Chapter 5: EVASION EXERCISE

Chapter 6: PROBLEMS FOR THE CSM

Chapter 7: THE CSM's DAY

Chapter 8: THE LANTERN STALK

Chapter 9: PETER IN LOVE

Chapter 10: FUTURE PROSPECTS

Chapter 11: THE ARMY CAMP

Chapter 12: THE CAMPFIRE

Chapter 13: THE THIRD NIGHT

Chapter 14: DAY 4

Chapter 15: BESIDE BUNYIP RIVER

Chapter 16: GUILT

Chapter 17: NIGHT EXERCISE

Chapter 18: PLATOON SERGEANTS

Chapter 19: PETER'S DAY

Chapter 20: UNDER BUNYIP BRIDGE

Chapter 21: THE ANABRANCHES

Chapter 22: DARKNESS FALLS

Chapter 23: BUNYIP GHOST

Chapter 24: A TEST OF LEADERSHIP

Chapter 25: ALONG THE RIVER BANK

Chapter 26: PATROL TRAINING

Chapter 27: DOYLE'S DISCOVERY

Chapter 28: PETER'S PROBLEM

Chapter 29: A SHOCK FOR PETER

Chapter 30: PETER'S PATROL

Chapter 31: TROUBLE IN THE NIGHT

Chapter 32: LEADERSHIP EVALUATION

Chapter 33: ACCUSATIONS

Chapter 34: THE CAMPFIRE

Chapter 35: CRISIS OF CONSCIENCE

Chapter 36: PETER UNDER PRESSURE

Chapter 37: THE DRIVE

Chapter 38: THE RECKONING

THE GREEN IDOL OF KANAKA CREEK

ROSS RIVER FEVER

TRAIN TO KURANDA

THE MUDSKIPPER CUP

DAVEY JONES'S LOCKER

BELOW BARTLE FRERE

AIRSHIP OVER ATHERTON

THE CADET CORPORAL

STANNARY HILLS

COASTS OF CAPE YORK

KYLIE AND THE KELLY GANG

BEHIND MT BALDY

* THE CADET SERGEANT MAJOR

COOKTOWN CHRISTMAS

THE SECRET IN THE CLOUDS

THE WORD OF GOD

THE CADET UNDER-OFFICER

THE SMILEY PEOPLE

Map 1: Bunyip River

It was a perfect September day in North Queensland:- clear blue sky; the air just cool enough and dry enough to be comfortable. Graham Kirk, the Cadet Company Sergeant Major, stood beside Captain Conkey, his OC, watching the platoons as they moved to the areas where they would set up camp. The two stood on a wide, gentle ridge on which a scattering of trees: Eucalypts and Ironbarks mostly; and sparse clumps of sun-dried grass struggled for existence in the thin, sandy soil. An occasional twisted Mulga tree and a few Chinese Apple Trees- a hardy thorn bush- completed the scene.

Cadet Warrant Officer Class 2 Graham Kirk was 16 years old, a Year 11 student. He was well built, handsome and very fit. The captain beside him was nearly fifty, a cheerful and tubby man. Thirty years earlier he had gone to war as a young corporal in the Regular Army. Most of the time since he had spent teaching History at a Cairns High School. As a part-time interest he ran the school's army cadet unit, one of the very few still functioning in the region.

Captain Conkey turned to look at his CSM. He liked what he saw: an open, honest face with a determined chin and eyes so blue they matched the sky. The CSM was standing ‘At Ease', feet apart, arms behind his back, the chinstrap of his Hat, Khaki Fur Felt resting just above the point of his chin. A polished wooden cane, tipped at its nose by a bullet head, and at its base by a polished brass cartridge case- the CSMs ‘badge of office'- was tucked under the youth's left arm. Even standing in the middle of the Australian ‘Bush' Graham gave the impression of being ‘On Parade'.

It was Day 1 of the cadet unit's 9 Day Annual Camp. The unit had just debussed from the coaches which had transported them the 450 kilometres from Cairns to the Bunyip River area near Charters Towers. The Bunyip was a typical river in the region, mostly a dry, sandy bed with just a trickle of water at this time of year; and banks lined with trees. It was a tributary of the Burdekin. The surrounding country was mostly undulating plain with a few small hills. The area was mostly covered by open savannah woodland.

The cadets moved on foot in platoon groups, laden down with webbing, pack and kitbag. Capt Conkey observed some cadets in 3 Platoon clowning around and pulled at his chin thoughtfully. It had not been a good year for the unit so far. There had been a number of unfortunate incidents. Numbers were down- only 109 instead of the 120 the unit was authorized. And the recruits weren't necessarily of the right type.

Captain Conkey cleared his throat and said, “It is most important we have a good camp CSM. The long-term future of the unit depends on it. We must make it a success to attract the right sort of recruits to join.”

He paused and met the CSM's eye then added, “It is also vitally important that our good reputation is maintained. In particular I don't want any more ‘boy- girl' problems. If we aren't careful our unit's name will be mud and parents won't let their children join- at least good parents of good girls won't. Do you follow what I mean?”

“Yes sir,” Graham replied. He certainly did. ‘Better than you know sir!' he thought with a twinge of guilt.

Capt Conkey shook his head. “We don't want another incident like we had on the last weekend bivouac.”

“No sir.” Graham pursed his lips. That had been a bad business. While most of the company had been off doing a night lantern stalk the Company Quartermaster Sergeant had persuaded a female corporal to sneak off with him. They had been caught together partly undressed and obviously getting up to mischief.- The CQMS- the second most senior NCO in the unit! When the OC had found out he had been furious and the unit had quickly found itself minus a staff sergeant and a corporal.

That had generated a lot of ill-will from their friends, but equally it had meant two promotions. Graham had felt personally hurt by it because, as CSM, he had to depend on the sergeants to help maintain discipline. The memory brought a bitter taste to his mouth, which set in a grim line. Then he pursed his lips again as his gaze settled on one of the cadets who had been a witness to the incident- but had not reported it- fat Marcia Denton.

‘She's trouble that one,' he thought. ‘The OC should have got rid of her as well.'

Captain Conkey spoke again, half-turning to meet Graham's eye, “I'm depending on you CSM.”

Graham nodded. “You can rely on me sir.”

“I know. That is why you are CSM. I wouldn't have a sergeant major I didn't trust. Now get the unit assembled for their safety brief. And remind me to get those new recruits to make their promise to me.”

“Yes sir,” Graham said. He saluted, turned and strode off. As he marched across the open flat ridge top shouting for the sergeants to move their platoons in his chest swelled with pride. ‘Captain Conkey trusts me!' he thought. Of all the people on earth whose praise he valued most it was Captain Conkey's. The captain had saved him from going bad; had given him a second chance. ‘I will repay that debt- no matter what!' he vowed.

But even as he made the vow Graham realised what a burden it would be. Of all his many weaknesses girls were the greatest.

He seemed to fall in love with every pretty face he saw; and he suspected that he had an above average sex drive. Because his actual experience in this field was still very limited he wasn't sure, but he was aware that his lack of experience was not because of lack of opportunity but because he was, at bottom, a very moral person.

Graham sighed, squared his shoulders, as though this would help stiffen his resolve, and marched to where a large ironbark cast its shade.

Pointing to the shaded area he bellowed, “Sergeants, sit them in line behind their section commanders. One Platoon there.” He pointed again “Here Two Platoon. Not there Cpl Fredericks! Leave room for Two Platoon!”

Within five minutes Graham had the entire company seated in a compact mass; grouped in tidy rows, each section of seven or eight cadets sitting behind its corporal. The sergeants stood at the rear. Graham ran his eyes over the company.

“Cadet Bragg! Stop throwing sand. All of you with sand in your hands, drop it! We don't want anyone with sand in their eyes. Cadet Arthur, stop tickling Cadet Hodgins with grass!”

Graham looked at the sergeants and said, “One Platoon; are they all here ? Two ?...” One by one he checked each platoon; then looked at his watch. A minute to go. He turned to see if the OC was coming. Not yet. Capt Conkey was talking to the Officers of Cadets and Cadet Under-Officers in the shade of a clump of trees that had been designated as ‘Headquarters'.

While he waited Graham again ran his eyes over the assembled cadets. Through his mind ran the figures he had tabulated from the Roll Book: 4 Cadet Under-Officers and 105 Other Ranks. HQ had 12, plus 5 under Sgt Crane who made up the ‘Control Group'. No 1 Pl had 23, 2 Pl 22, 3 Pl 24, 4 Pl 23. That made 70 boys and 39 girls; total 109.

‘Thirty nine girls!' he thought in dismay. Two of the CUOs were girls, as was one of the seven sergeants, seven of the 17 corporals. ‘And some of them are very pretty!' Graham thought. He couldn't help noticing that. Especially Cpl Allison Broadfoot, the Signals Corporal. She was a Year 11 girl and had the brightest blue eyes Graham had ever seen. For a moment he admired her; and her friend Kate O'Brien, the very attractive Intelligence Corporal.

As Graham looked around his gaze met another pair of female eyes: soft brown eyes that smiled back. Cadet Margaret Lake! Graham gave a silent groan. ‘Little Margaret, my devoted admirer!' he told himself. She was his sister's best friend and had been in love with him as long as he could remember. He had even loved her for a time- still did with a sort of exasperated affection. Thinking about that caused him a twinge of guilt. ‘But she is more like a little sister,' he rationalized. ‘And she is no beauty.' Margaret was a plain girl with freckles all over her friendly, open face. She was two years younger and had a tubby build. He was sure she had only joined the cadets to be near him.

Graham resisted the impulse to return her smile. ‘Don't encourage her,' he thought. ‘Besides, no favouritism; especially in front of the troops!' He gave a slight shake of the head. No, Margaret didn't set the blood on fire. Not like her Section Commander, red-haired Cpl Barbara Brassington, with her flashing blue-green eyes, magnificent bosom, and lovely long legs!

‘Heavens, Barbara is something!' Graham thought. Then he shook his head again. ‘No, don't start thinking like that.' For a few moments he pondered the problem of temptation; and how it was his job to make sure others resisted it too. ‘Thirty nine girls! How am I going to stop any boy- girl affairs?' he puzzled. What bothered him most was that some of the girls had the reputation for being ‘Hot numbers'.

His eyes roved over the fidgeting ranks. Yes, the Medical Corporal, Kellie Jones, a black-haired Year 11 who Graham thought had the best female shape in the whole school. She needed watching. ‘And it'll be a pleasure to watch!' he mused. Even dressed in the shapeless camouflage uniform Kellie's bosom was very noticeable.

Graham's gaze moved on. Several other girls attracted his attention and he bit his lip. ‘And I'd better watch that bitch Erika Goltz. And those two new girls in 3 Platoon. What are their names?' He was annoyed he couldn't remember. As CSM he prided himself on knowing everyone in the company.

Glancing around to check he noticed the OC approaching. “Company! Sit to attention,” he called, before turning and coming to attention facing Capt Conkey. Capt Conkey halted at attention facing him then nodded. Being in the field Graham did not salute. Instead he reported all present and then stepped smartly to his left front and marched around behind him.

Capt Conkey stood for a moment studying the seated cadets. Then he said, “Thanks CSM. Troops, sit easy please.” When they had Capt Conkey continued, “Welcome to annual camp; and to those who haven't been here before, to Sandy Ridge and Bunyip River.”

Capt Conkey began a careful recital of the safety rules. Each cadet was issued with a photocopy of the map. He then orientated them, pointing out the key features and boundaries. He also spoke at some length about the behaviour that was expected of them. In conclusion he said, “Now, I want all the new recruits to form a single line out here. You will each then make a promise to me that you will behave. This promise is not just a vague agreement to do the right thing. It is a personal promise to me. Your honour and integrity are involved.”

He paused and let them think about that, then went on, “You will promise not to misbehave. Now, we won't have any ‘Bush-Lawyers' quibbling over what constitutes misbehaviour. You are all old enough to know what I mean. Don't cause any discipline problems. Obey orders. Don't break army regulations. Don't break state laws. Don't break school rules. No fraternization. No smoking, no foul language or sexual harassment, no drinking, no drugs, no sex, no theft, no bullying. Got it?”

Again Capt Conkey paused and ran his eyes over them. “If you don't want to make the promise then have the guts not to; in which case we will watch you closely. If you do then I will trust you; and I expect you to live up to your word. You can fairly easily sneak off and do things without myself or the other officers knowing. But remember this; you can't sneak away from yourself. Your conscience will tell you that you are second rate. You will dishonour yourself. You will then waste your spirit trying to convince yourself you are not bad; that you are clever. It's a battle that is not worth fighting. Life is hard enough as it is without going to war inside yourself. Don't harm yourselves that way. Now move out and form a line.”

About forty embarrassed looking ‘First Year' cadets came out to form a line. Graham watched from the side as the OC went along and made each one shake his hand; look him in the eye and promise. It was something he had done himself three years earlier. Capt Conkey never normally asked cadets to repeat their promise.

“A promise, once given, stands forever,” he said. Graham felt very strongly about the promise. He knew there had been a dozen occasions over the last few years where it had helped him to stay on the straight and narrow when temptation beckoned.

Next to Graham stood the new CQMS, Staff Sgt Barney Costigan. Like Graham he was a Year 11. He was a chunky, angular lad with curly brown hair, brown eyes and many freckles.

“What a load of crap!” Costigan muttered. “He treats us like a bunch of bloody Boy Scouts.”

Graham glanced sharply at him, and detected the hint of a sneer on the CQ's lips. The sight made him stiffen and his own lips pressed together in a hard line. In reply he said, “I think it means a lot. It certainly makes supervision easier; and I know plenty of kids who've thought twice about breaking the rules because of it.”

Costigan snorted and replied, “Yeah, but plenty have done things and got away with it.”

“Not many,” Graham replied. “And if I get even a whisper of trouble I'll stamp on it so hard they'll wish they'd never joined the cadets!” He felt annoyed and concerned. ‘And I'll keep an eye on you too matey; if that's how you feel!' he thought.

That made Graham wonder who else he might not be able to rely on among the senior NCOs. ‘Who can I trust? And who will I need to watch?' he wondered as he looked along the line of sergeants standing behind their platoons.

Closest to him was the HQ Sergeant, Peter Bronsky. ‘No worries there!' he thought. If there was one person on earth Graham would trust with his life it was Peter. He was Graham's best friend. They had been together for years; had joined the Cub Scouts together, then the Scouts, then the Cadets. Both were in the same grade at school. They had been corporals together and even though Graham had jumped a rank to Warrant Officer Peter had never shown any resentment.

Peter was fairly tall, average in looks, with brown hair and brown eyes. He was very fit. He was also much better at schoolwork than Graham, who privately conceded that Peter was the ‘Brains' of the organization. The two complemented each other well and had shared a number of quite desperate adventures.