The Cadet Sergeant Major (10 page)

Peter moved with the second group, because Kate was in it. He was pleased to see how proficient she was. However there was no opportunity to talk to her alone.

During the second half of the morning the two groups swapped over. Peter and Kate both became ‘casualties' at different places on the course. Peter did not mind. It gave him some time alone. He lay in the shade of a tree pretending to have a broken arm, while running through his mind all the events of the previous two days.

“It is a miracle,” Peter told himself. “Kate is so pretty and she actually likes me! I think she is wonderful. I think I am in love!”

He hugged this thought to himself. It sounded so good. It felt good! He was very happy- until he thought of the deceit involved. That made him bite his lip and frown.

“I won't do anything,” he told himself. “I will just tell her I love her. Then, when we get back to Cairns we have the rest of the holidays to really get to know each other. I will take her out.”

That concept gave him pause. He had never really taken a girl out on a ‘date'. “I wonder where she would like to go? I must get to know her better and find out what she likes.”

The more Peter thought about it the less he realized he knew about her. Doubts began to assail him. What if she wouldn't go out with him? Or if her parents would not allow it? He shook his head to banish such depressing thoughts and began to practice what he would say when he asked her. His mind wandered into warm fantasies of romance.

These were interrupted by the medical teams arriving one after the other to treat his ‘injuries'. After they had done so he followed them, collecting the other casualties one at a time and sending them back to camp.

Lunch time arrived. As he ate his meal Peter sat where he could see Kate. She kept looking up and meeting his eyes with a smile. That kept his hopes climbing.

During the afternoon HQ revised the use of radios and did a simple Command Post Exercise. This included map marking and logging messages. As HQ sergeant Peter controlled the exercise, finding ample reasons to be sitting beside Kate, close enough for their arms to brush together. They sat side by side on a log encoding, decoding and sending radio messages. In between they talked a lot and frequently rubbed elbows or knees. Peter became aroused and was glad he had the map board on his lap to hide it.

‘I am in love,' Peter decided. ‘No doubt about it!'

In the middle of the afternoon, just as they both laughed at a private joke and pressed against each other, Peter saw Capt Conkey and Graham approaching. He felt a strong stab of guilt and a flush of shame heated his face. As carefully as he could he edged away from Kate.

‘This won't do!' he silently berated himself. ‘I'm being disloyal to the OC; and letting down my best friend.'

For Graham it was a day of annoyance, frustration and let-downs. These had begun immediately after morning check parade. He had started off feeling pleased that the timings had been accurate; and the parade more efficient when Sgt Brown sought him out.

“That bloody Clayfield!” Brown growled. “Last night he wet himself again and he didn't even bother to get out of his sleeping bag!”

“Has he washed the bag, turned it inside out and hung it up to air?” Graham asked practically.

Brown swore. “No. Not yet. I'll get him to do it now. But he's causing a real nuisance. His section is all cheesed off about him. Now he's sitting over there whining and snivelling because no-one will help him.”

“Then you must help him yourself,” Graham replied. Brown made a face. Graham knew that wasn't what Brown wanted to hear so he added, “Look, I'll speak to the kid after breakfast.” That left him wondering what he was going to say; and not relishing the task.

No sooner had Brown departed than Stephen arrived.

“What is it Steve?”

“That big sook Dibble. He still wants to go home. He snuffled half the night like a bloody great baby. Fourteen years old! It's enough to make you puke!”

“OK. I will speak to him after breakfast. During inspection,” Graham replied, trying to keep the resignation out of his voice.

“I'll tell him that,” Stephen replied “But I don't like your chances.”

Graham was then absorbed by the rush of his morning routine: report to the OC, mark the roll, pack his bedding, tidy his gear, polish his boots, shave. During breakfast he barely had time to return Allison's beckoning smiles. Even though he recognized them as a ‘come hither' invitation he impatiently brushed the idea aside. There was too much to do. He ate as quickly as he could.

He was just raising his coffee cup to his lips when his restlessly roving eye settled on Cadet Dibble's large and flabby form ambling with drooped shoulders towards where the officers were eating.

“Blast!” Graham snorted. He put down his cup, snatched up his hat and strode to intercept him. He saw angrily that he would be too late. While still 50 paces away he saw Capt Conkey look around from his meal as Dibble spoke to him. Graham snarled under his breath. He could tell by the restrained look on the OC's face that he was annoyed but trying not to show it.

Graham didn't wait. As he marched up he called loudly, “Excuse me sir. I will deal with this. Cadet Dibble, come here!”

Capt Conkey looked around. A flicker of relief crossed his face and he gave a nod. Dibble however persisted. He spoke to Capt Conkey again. The OC shook his head. Graham didn't hear what Dibble said but he detected the self-pitying whine. It made his blood boil.

“Cadet Dibble! Come here!”

Dibble turned his head to look at Graham. Then he pointed at Capt Conkey. “But I want to talk to Captain Conkey.”

“He is not ready to talk to you. Come here!”

Bewilderment and hurt appeared on Dibble's face. He looked at the OC in hope but Capt Conkey had turned back to his breakfast. Reluctantly Dibble walked over to where Graham had stopped.

“Come with me,” Graham growled. He turned and walked twenty paces. Dibble shambled after him. After about 25 paces Graham swung to face him, blue eyes blazing.

“Did Sgt Bell tell you I would speak to you after breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Yes SIR!”

Dibble sniffed. Their eyes met briefly. Dibble's watery ones dropped. “Yes Sir.”

“So why are you bothering the OC during breakfast?”

“Because I want to go home!” Dibble replied, his upper lip visibly trembling.

“So I've heard. Does that excuse bad manners? Does half an hour make that much of a difference? No! Be quiet and listen! Don't interrupt me! You can say your piece when I'm finished,” Graham snapped savagely. Dibble hung his head and began to blub.

Graham was astounded. ‘What a bloody great sook!' he thought. For a moment he gathered his thoughts while watching the tears run down the youth's cheeks. Then, in tones as forceful but level as he could make them, he said: “Listen Cadet Dibble, I don't know why you joined the army cadets; or what you thought it might be like. But you did join- of your own free will. You volunteered. So now make an effort. If something is bothering you then tell us, but go about it in the right way. You are new so maybe you don't understand, but there is something called the ‘Chain of Command'. You work your way up one level at a time. You don't just by-pass people. That is an insult to them, if nothing else. And even if it wasn't laid down by the military system there is still common sense- and good manners.”

He paused and Dibble raised a tear-stained face. Graham had to use all his self-control to stop himself sneering. He went on. “Firstly, if you want someone to do something for you I suggest you don't offend or annoy them. Barging in on the OC's breakfast is hardly the right way to get him on side! Besides, there is no urgency to justify it. Secondly, you were supposed to see me after breakfast and I resent your attempt to by-pass me. Do you see that? Can you see why I am annoyed?”

Dibble looked worried but sulky. More tears trickled down. “But ... but I want to go home. I'm not ready for this.”

Graham was astonished. “Not ready for this!” he echoed. He couldn't believe his ears. “Stop bloody snivelling and act your age! Have you spoken to your platoon commander?”

“Yes I have,” Dibble sniffled, wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve.

“For God's sake!” Graham exploded. “Where's your pride! Crying in front of the whole company! They will despise you as a weakling. That will be hard to live with.”

“Not if I go home.”

Graham was again staggered. ‘How short sighted!' he thought. He shook his head. “Look, it's not like that. If you give up and go home you might escape a few days of pain; but then you will have to suffer years of regret. The more vicious among those cadets won't forget. They will tease you back at school. And every time you see a cadet in the future you will know in your heart that you failed; that when put to the test you gave up. You will lose your self-respect and people will think you are a weakling. You might be able to live with that but if it was me I couldn't. Now stop crying and tell me what the problem really is. Are you homesick?”

Dibble nodded. The story came out, bit by bit, along with a lot more tears. The first night of camp was not only the first night Dibble had ever been camping in the bush but was the first night he had ever been away from his mother and father.

Graham shook his head in disbelief. Fourteen years old and never been away from home for even one night! He wondered how parents could be so irresponsible; to prepare a child so poorly for the real world.

“Look, it gets better. You've survived two nights. Homesickness is at its worst on Days Four and Five. After that you make friends; you settle into the routine; you get used to the environment and the training. And you know there are only a few days to go to the end of camp. So why don't you give it a try. Just grin and bear it.”

“It's easy for you,” Dibble rejoined. “No-one shouts at you! And you've been doing it for years.”

Graham smiled at his own memories. “I wasn't always a sergeant major. I started as a First Year cadet too. And I certainly got yelled at,” he said with conviction.

Dibble shook his head, misery on every line of his face. “I still want to go home. I want to talk to the captain.”

Graham compressed his lips. “I will tell him and arrange a time. And if I see you approach him before that then I will have you digging shit pits for the rest of camp. Now go and have your breakfast and let me have mine.”

“But..,” Dibble began, looking hopefully in the direction of the officers.

“Just go!” Graham growled, his hands on his hips. He stared Dibble down. The unhappy boy began to sob again but turned and shuffled off towards his platoon.

Graham breathed out, then turned and marched back to his interrupted breakfast.

“Bloody useless parents!” he muttered. He did not feel very proud of himself. He knew he had a reputation for toughness both in the school and in the unit. It was a source of pride, and gave him almost arrogant self-confidence. The consensus was that he was brave; and that he would fight if he had to. And he knew he would, if the cause was good. Over the preceding years he had been involved in several life and death fights: with knives, with sticks, with guns; and even with a spear-gun. He had been shot at; and had fired back on a number of occasions, most recently during that murderous business on the Herberton Range three months earlier.

The memory made him smile grimly. He had loved it really and was a bit ashamed of his exultant reactions. Thus it gave him no pleasure to out-stare a pathetic specimen like Dibble.

Once back at HQ Graham refused to comment on the incident, although all had obviously watched with interest. Instead he wolfed down the now cold breakfast and chivvied the others to get tidied up in time for inspection.

While the platoon inspections were under way Graham went over to join the officers.

Capt Conkey nodded as he sat down. “Thanks for that CSM. I would have found it hard to be civil to the lad. What's his problem?”

Graham recounted the exchange, concluding with, “He still wants to see you sir. When would be convenient?”

“After lunch. We will string it out. He may just settle down. Besides it will then be too late to do much before tomorrow.”

Graham chuckled. The cunning old devil!

The day's program was then discussed. Once his own timings were settled Graham excused himself and went off to tactfully speed the inspections along, so as to have the company on parade in time.

After parade the platoons moved off quickly to their training areas. ‘Except 3 Platoon,' Graham noted. ‘Brown hasn't organized them to have their waterbottles filled.' He stood in the centre of the ‘parade ground' and watched as the officers led away groups from 4 Platoon, the Control Group and HQ to set up for the day's activities.

There were four events on the program. Two Observation courses were to be laid out, one in the gully leading down from the 1 Platoon area to the highway and the other at the outcrop of rocks near the top of the shallow valley. On the first of these cadets would walk down the creek one at a time, 3 minutes apart. They were to note all artificial objects and were then to try to deduce a story from what they observed. At the bottom of the course they would be collected and be directed on to the second activity.

At this they would be seated behind the rocks and then called forward one at a time by Lt McEwen to see if they could detect 25 items of military equipment laid out within 50 paces of them, within 5 minutes.

The other two activities were scouting incident courses laid out in the two creek lines running north towards the Canning. Along each creek were to be a variety of incidents: dummy land mines, trip wires and people. Some of the people would be dressed as enemy, some as friendly troops and some as ‘innocent civilians'. Once again the cadets would be sent along one at a time with the story that they were on their own on a battlefield. They had to avoid the mines and ‘booby traps'; and not ‘shoot' the wrong people.

They had no rifles or blank ammunition because that was forbidden by regulations for cadets, so would have to just go ‘bang!' Capt Conkey made a special point of reminding them that nobody had to take part in this activity if they did not want to. He told them he was not going to force anyone to pretend to point a gun at another human being.

“That is a moral choice you must make,” he told them. And he wanted them to think about the rights and wrongs of military service while they did it; reminding them that armies only exist to fight wars, not to provide a cushy job in peace time; and that, unfortunately, people sometimes had to do terrible things for good reasons; that it was usually not a choice between right and wrong but between two wrongs.

1 Platoon was to begin on the two observation courses while 2 and 3 Platoons did the contact courses. They would then rotate so that, by the end of the afternoon, all cadets, including HQ and the Control Group, would have completed the four activities. The cadets always enjoyed these courses and it also gave them a relatively easy third day. This helped their bodies recover from the exertions of the first two days.

Capt Conkey walked around to check all the courses were laid out to his satisfaction before the activities began. Graham went with him. They walked fast as the captain was fit for his age and this raised a fine sweat. Graham enjoyed it as bushwalking was one of his main hobbies; and he was very fit. Once the training began he stood with Capt Conkey and Lt Maclaren to watch 3 Platoon going one at a time down the gully which Peter had come up during the Evasion Exercise.

After about ten minutes Capt Conkey turned to Graham. “Well CSM, which of the sergeants do you think are worth promoting?”

Graham paused for a moment then replied rather stiffly. “I'm not sure if it is fair for me to say sir. Most are in the same class as me and are my friends.”

“I know that CSM. But you are their superior in rank and the Sergeant Major. And I have faith in your integrity. Besides,” Capt Conkey replied with a smile. “We will take into account any obvious bias. So, which of them might make a Cadet Under-Officer?”

Again Graham paused before answering. He watched Cadet ‘Cactus' Carleton go past down the gully without really seeing him. After carefully marshalling his thoughts Graham said, “Three for certain sir, although you will think I am biased: Bronsky, Bell and Gwen Copeland.”

“We need at least four CUOs. Who else? What about Costigan and Brown?” Capt Conkey asked.

Graham knew very well that four or five CUOs were needed; one for each of the platoons and one for HQ. This year they only had four so Peter was also acting as HQ platoon commander. With a quiet desperation Graham hoped that he would be one of the five. It was the major immediate goal in his life. But he could not bring himself to be so ‘pushy' as to suggest his own name. He felt his chest tighten up and he clenched his fists at his sides.