The Cadet Sergeant Major (9 page)

“You girls had better get back in position,” Peter added.

“OK. Come on Leah. Be good you two,” Kellie said.

The casual comment stabbed deep into Peter's guilty conscience. Kate laughed. “Same goes for you!”

The other two shrieked with laughter as they walked away. Peter blushed with shock at her comment. Kate snuggled against him and murmured. “Now, where were we?”

Peter didn't know what to do. He had never met a girl like her before but he had often heard Graham and Stephen talking them and had wondered what it would be like. Now he knew - and he liked it. Her touch sent a wave of hot passion surging through him. He felt an intense desire for more. He grabbed her firmly to him.

Kate's reaction was to hold him tight. “Oooh! Aargh! Mmmm!” she sighed, responding warmly.

Peter almost lost control. He felt as though the blood pounding in his head would pulp the brain against the cranium. He kissed Kate passionately and stroked her back and arms. Their bodies pressed harder together.

‘Oooh! I shouldn't be doing this!' called a small voice from the back of his overheated brain, ‘Oooh! But isn't it wonderful!'

Through the mist of passion something made Peter look around. A wave of cold shock swept over him. Someone was walking towards them with a powerful torch and was only twenty paces away! Luckily the torch was directed on the ground. Peter hastily released Kate and stepped away from her. He clicked on his torch, directing it on the newcomer's boots.

Capt Conkey's voice came to him like the worst echo of his conscience. “Who is that there?”

“Sgt Bronsky sir,” Peter replied, hoping he sounded normal. He felt rising panic. Had the OC seen them?

“Good. The exercise has begun. Are all your people in position?” Capt Conkey asked, in a voice which betrayed no apparent suspicion.

“Yes sir,” Peter replied. “I went along and checked them all.” As he spoke his stomach churned with fear and guilt. Hot shame replaced the fright. His lust quickly subsided. He described where the other groups were, mainly to give himself something to say.

“Who is that with you?” the OC asked shining his torch on Kate's lower body (it being bad manners to shine it in someone's face). “Oh, it's you Cpl O'Brien.”

“Yes sir,” Kate replied.

The OC grunted. “Good. I will just go and check on the CUOs.”

“Yes sir,” Peter and Kate chorused.

Capt Conkey walked on up the cattle pad. When he was fifty paces away Kate nudged Peter and snuggled against him.

“That was close,” she said with a giggle.

Peter felt slightly stunned. “Yes it was. And here comes Allison and Denton. We'd better stop Kate. The place will be crawling with cadets in a minute. We mustn't be seen. We can meet later, if you want to.”

“Of course I want to! I was just starting to enjoy it,” Kate replied. Peter's heart leapt. He felt his desire begin to return. To save himself he switched on his torch and began searching for cadets. In spite of his conscience telling him he shouldn't even think about it his mind became busy planning how and when he and Kate could secretly meet.

In an attempt to drive such ideas from his mind he said, “Come on. We had better walk up and down.”

For the next hour the pair moved back and forth, frequently detecting cadets who were trying to crawl or scuttle past them. All the while Peter itched to hold Kate again. As often as he dared he reached out to touch her and several times, when he was sure no cadet was close enough to see, he held her hand. It was a delicious thrill. His desire was soon fully aroused again and he found he could not care less about the training exercise. He seemed to have difficulty in focusing his thoughts.

To his regret no opportunity arose for him to kiss Kate again. There seemed to be always someone nearby; either patrolling defenders or creeping cadets. The OC joined their line for a while and guilt and anxiety made Peter's passion subside. Then the OC went forward and redeployed the sergeants to the flanks. All too soon he returned with Graham. Peter quietly cursed their arrival.

At 2130hrs the OC ended the exercise. Graham's voice rang out across the valley. “End of exercise! Move into the lantern!”

This was repeated on the radio for the leaders. Peter reluctantly led Kate to where the First Aid kit and their webbing lay and called in HQ. When they had all arrived he got them to pick up the gear and then led them up the cattle pad back to the lantern. Kate walked close behind and frequently touched him.

At the lantern Graham was busy sorting the confusion. He soon had all the cadets sitting behind their section commanders in platoon groups. A roll call was made to ensure no-one was missing. Graham called for reports from each sergeant. Once he was satisfied all were accounted for he handed over to the OC. The cadets were in high spirits; laughing and boasting over their exploits and close shaves. Peter barely noticed. He stood behind HQ and looked at Kate, reliving every moment. The OC gave a ten minute debrief but barely a word registered in Peter's consciousness.

‘Hurry up sir!' was all Peter could think. He wanted to be with Kate again and his mind seethed with fantasies and ideas on how he could organize it so they could both meet secretly.

To Peter's frustration and annoyance there was no opportunity to speak to Kate alone before ‘Lights Out'. After the lantern stalk they returned to their bivouac area. Stoves were lit and supper prepared. Peter heated water for Milo, all the while casting ‘casual' glances at Kate. She sat opposite, her face illuminated by the flames from the hexamine stove.

Peter looked at her. ‘Oh, she is beautiful!' he thought. The desire to be alone with her surged in him. He felt as though he needed to physically squirm so strongly did the urges seize him. ‘But we must be careful,' he told himself. ‘We don't want anyone to get suspicious. I must protect her,' he reasoned. So he talked mostly to the others and only gave Kate an occasional ‘meaningful' glance; which she returned.

Graham drained his cup and looked at his watch. “Nearly 2200. Bedtime. Pack up,” he ordered. He packed his cup in his webbing, took out his torch and strode off into the night calling, “Platoon sergeants! Get them to bed!”

Peter finished his drink and rinsed his cup. “Come on HQ. Pack up. You heard the CSM. That includes you Cadet Denton.”

“But I want to have a wash,” Denton answered.

“Then have it quickly; and don't use any lights,” Peter replied.

“But we won't be able to see then,” Denton replied. This brought shrieks and giggles from the other girls. The boys also joined in.

“Thank God for that!” Henning called. “We don't want to have bad dreams.”

“Get stuffed!” Denton snapped

“That will do! Stop the teasing!” Peter interjected. “Just hurry up.”

“Come on Marcia,” Kate said. “We will scrub each others backs.”

“Can we help?” Parnell called from his hutchie.

“No you can't. And don't you boys peep,” Allison retorted. The girls giggled again. Peter's imagination leapt to speculate what it might be like to scrub Kate's back and he got instantly aroused. He crawled into his hutchie and prepared his bedding. The girls got ready for a ‘bird-bath' in buckets with much giggling and whispering.

“If you girls want to have a bath go down near the female latrine,” Peter called.

“It's too dark down there,” Denton answered. “There might be bulls or wild pigs.”

“Just your style,” Henning called.

Peter felt a surge of annoyance. “Stop it Henning. Just hurry up you girls!” he called again. In the distance he could hear Graham berating 3 Platoon and he didn't want HQ in trouble. He took off his boots and lay down, listening to the girls outside. He lay back and groaned with frustration and desire.

The girls went down the slope into the bushes beyond their hutchies but only to the top of the slope. There they prepared for their bath. Peter realized that they had their hutchie between them and the other boys but he could just see glimpses of them in the darkness from where he lay. He could only see dark forms half obscured by small bushes but he could tell by their movements and conversation that they were removing their clothes. This had an almost explosive effect on his desire.

Allison called, “Don't you boys look.”

Gurgling water indicated a washbasin being filled.

“Don't waste water,” Peter called; partly to remind the girls he was there. He didn't want to be accused of being a peeping tom.

“We won't. Ooooh! It's cold!” Allison shrieked. The others laughed and chattered.

“Don't make so much noise,” Peter said. “Or the CSM will be over to see what is going on.”

“Ooh goody!” Allison quipped. The other girls pretended to be scandalized.

“It's not what's going on; it's what is coming off,” Leah laughed.

A torch flickered briefly on. Peter was granted a tantalizing glimpse of naked girls.

“Denton!” Leah snapped.

“Sorry. I can't find my soap.”

Peter lay and watched, his body now aflame with desire. Again a torch flickered on. He was given another fleeting but delightful silhouette, this time of Kate side on and nude. He sighed. ‘What a beautiful body!' he thought. To his eyes it had appeared perfect. The image set him aflame with desire.

Allison hissed again, “Denton! Turn the torch off.” Denton grumbled but complied. The splashing, gasps and giggling increased.

Peter now felt very guilty that he could see them and that he was looking. To try to end the situation he called, “Hurry up you girls, the CSM is coming.” To his mingled relief and regret he saw a dark form he thought was Kate wrap herself in a towel and walk back to her hutchie. Here she knelt and placed her clothes inside. Then she stood and began doing something at the tree at that end of her hutchie.

‘What on earth is she doing?' Peter wondered. In the starlight he could just make out the pale skin of her legs. Then she walked across to another tree ten paces away and he understood. ‘She is tying up a clothes line.'

Kate then walked back to where the washing was going on and talked to the others, with much whispering and giggling which only added to Peter's arousal. Then she came back and draped some underwear over the line before taking of her towel and hanging it on the line. That gave Peter a real surprise. ‘Is she wearing anything?' he wondered. But it was dark and she was 25 metres away and had the towel and bushes between them so Peter was left wondering. But it was enough for his teenage mind and he felt the fire of lust course through him.

Kate moved back to her hutchie. Again she crouched down at the end nearest to Peter. He expected her to crawl inside but to his surprise and delight she stood up and began to brush her hair. In the starlight Peter could just see part of her, the remainder being covered by a tree and a bush. He was able to make out that she was looking in his direction and he was sure she was nude. ‘Is she doing that deliberately?' he wondered.

Allison also walked over to the clothes line, hung up clothing and then draped her towel over it before crawling into the hutchie. Once inside she turned a torch on.

“Allison!” Kate cried softly. “Allison, turn the torch off. I haven't got any clothes on,” Kate said.

“Sorry,” The torch went off.

‘So am I,' Peter thought. He had been granted another tantalizing glimpse which had fuelled his arousal. Despite this Kate stayed outside her hutchie facing him while continuing to brush her hair. By this time Peter was almost beside himself.

It was only Graham's approach that apparently made Kate move into the hutchie; to Peter's intense regret.

Graham called out from beside his hutchie. “You people get to bed. Who is that?” He turned on his torch. The beam shone full on Marcia Denton. Peter could only see a part of her back and head but it was enough to reveal that she was naked and was covered in soap. Next to her was Leah who was holding a towel in front of herself.

“We are having a bath,” Denton replied, making a perfunctory effort to cover herself.

‘Wallow!' Peter thought, glimpsing all the curves and bulges. ‘Strewth she is fat! What a mountain of flesh!' he thought. But he found the sight repulsive rather than provocative.

Graham's torch flicked off. “Sorry. You shouldn't be doing that so close to camp. Go further away next time. Now hurry up and get to bed. It is fifteen minutes past Lights Out. You are having a shower tomorrow evening.”

Peter wished Graham would go and check some other platoon but he didn't. Instead he crawled into the hutchie and began unrolling his bedding.

“That bloody 3 Platoon!” he muttered.

“Sorry about these girls,” Peter said.

Graham grunted. “Huh. That's OK. They have to wash. Just make sure they go further away next time. They should have gone down behind the hill some more bushes.”

“They were scared to go that far in the dark, in case there were pigs or snakes,” Peter replied. “Anyway, the boys couldn't see them.”

As they talked Peter had only half his attention on the conversation. The rest was on the noises from the next hutchie. Judging by them Kate had gone to bed.

‘Blast!' he cursed silently. ‘I wanted to arrange to meet her,' he thought in frustration. He sighed. No chance now.

Distant laughter made Graham sit up. “Bloody Control Group; telling jokes.” He stood up and strode off.

Peter let out a sigh of relief and lay back, his body tense with desire. But all too soon Graham had returned. Peter lay on his side in his sleeping bag gripping himself in frustration. He pretended he was asleep but lay for what seemed hours dreaming of Kate.

‘I am in love!' he told himself over and over.

He could not ever remember being in love before. There had been a few ‘crushes' and he had liked a number of girls; but none of them had engendered anything like this all-consuming, white-hot passion.

His fantasies were interrupted by the crunch of boots on dead leaves and twigs. A torch beam shone into the boy's hutchies and then swung towards Peter's. He closed his eyes and pretended he was asleep. The beam moved on and then the person holding the torch walked away. Peter peeked out and saw that it was Lt Hamilton. ‘Only one of the officers checking everyone is in bed- and in the right bed,' he thought.

He lay back and tried to recapture his erotic thoughts but was only partly successful. Once again Graham's return interrupted him and he had to pretend he was asleep. His frustration and irritation increased but all he could do was lie and think romantic thoughts.

At length he fell into a fitful sleep, broken by bad dreams in which the hand of a corpse rose from the depths of the river in the darkness to clutch at Kate. He struggled in thick mud to get to her, to help, but ..... he woke up, shivering and parched. After a drink he lay back, unable to go back to sleep and envious of Graham who seemed to drop off in an instant, then sleep like the proverbial log.

“Up you get Pete,” Graham called, shaking him vigorously. “Twenty minutes to check parade.”

Peter groaned. The air felt chilly. He stretched then realized he was still very aroused. He was thankful when Graham marched away without seeming to notice. He groaned again and shook his head with frustration.

“This is crazy,” he murmured. He had never been so randy in all his life. It was like a deep hunger, allied to a burning itch. As quickly as he could he pulled on his boots and strode to the latrine. He returned to the hutchies just as Graham's voice broke the silence.

“Righto sergeants, get them out.”

Peter raised his voice. “OK Headquarters, everyone up. On parade. Boots, hat and radios.”

“What! No clothes?” came Leah's voice. There were chortles and giggles. Peter noticed that, on a clothes line strung above her hutchie, hung a pair of very skimpy black undies and a black bra edged with frilly lace. He shook his head.

“Come on! Out! Hurry up!” he called. As he did he looked towards Kate's hutchie then hastily looked away. As he did Kate scrambled out while still buttoning up her shirt. Peter was rewarded with a glimpse of the soft white swelling of her breasts.

The sight made him catch his breath. He involuntarily clenched his fists. Memories of the night before flooded back to arouse him. To prevent embarrassment Peter strode over to stir the boys. It made him gruff and short-tempered. He bellowed to speed them up. Denton, as usual, was last. And once again she provided a spectacle. She wriggled and squirmed around in her sleeping bag until Peter asked what the problem was.

“I'm trying to pull my pants on,” Denton called back. This led to cheeky comments from Henning and Parnell. Peter looked away in embarrassed disgust as she rolled on her back. The whole bulky mass of sleeping bag and girl quivered and shook. ‘Like a giant maggot,' Peter thought unkindly.

He didn't wait for her. “Line up and face the front,” he snapped testily at the group. As soon as they were formed up in two ranks he ordered: “Quick March.” Denton came stumbling after them with her hair looking like a rat's nest and her boots unlaced.

The Check Parade was quicker this time. As soon as it was over Peter marched HQ back to their area and ordered bedding rolled up. Breakfast followed. During all of this Peter found his gaze straying to Kate every minute or so. She returned his looks and even smiled.

‘She must like me,' he decided.

But there was little time to talk. There was too much to do. Peter was kept busy attending to his own morning routine while urging and directing the others. At 0730 he began to inspect them. They stood in pairs outside their hutchies while he examined their mess gear, face, hands, fingernails and teeth. He particularly enjoyed looking at Kate's teeth. She gave him a dazzling smile; and didn't seem to mind when his gaze lingered over her shirt and trousers. He was very aware that she was also ‘inspecting' him from head to toe while he worked.

Apart from some chocolate wrappers near Denton's hutchie Peter was satisfied with the cleanliness of the area. He next checked the First Aid kits, stretchers and radios to ensure all were there.

Company parade followed. The OC said a few encouraging words then handed over to the 2ic. Lt Maclaren fell HQ out and directed them to Lt McEwen. She divided HQ into two groups. One group was given 45 minutes to revise their First Aid while the other was taken to set up a ‘First Aid Incident Course'. This was laid out along the track running north to the gravel scrape. At ‘stands' positioned out of sight of each other (and in the shade) cadets were placed. Each was given a card which listed their obvious symptoms for various types of medical incidents:- a broken lower leg, snake bite, heat exhaustion, a bad fall with concussion, severe bleeding from a gashed arm, spear grass in the eye, and so on.

When the course was set up Peter was sent back to start the other group moving. They were sent in two groups of four, each being assessed by either Lt Standish or Lt McEwen. Each team was equipped with a carton of practice bandages and a stretcher. When they reached an incident they had to diagnose the problems, administer the appropriate ‘First Aid', then carry the ‘casualty' fifty metres.