As soon as Capt Conkey finished his briefing Staff Sgt Gayney and Cpl Parnell issued the green epaulets to each platoon sergeant. These were then handed to the section commanders for distribution to cadets. Sliding them onto his shoulder straps made Graham feel quite special and he was torn by a mixture of emotions. He knew he was looking forward to the exercise as an event, yet afraid of failing as a leader. There were also the glimmerings of satisfaction that his section would be operating on its own.
‘At least no-one else will see me when things go wrong,’ he thought; for he was sure that things would go wrong. Already he could hear the discontented mutterings from behind him as the initial shock of transfer wore off among his new members.
Capt Conkey called, “Platoon commanders, get your people moving. Get ready.”
CUO Masters stood up and called out, “Up you get Two Platoon. Section commanders move your sections back to the platoon area and have tea.”
Graham had no choice but to stand up and face his new section. The first small test was thrust upon him. “Stand up Four Section.”
To his relief they did, although there were hostile and rebellious looks from the four ex- 4 Platoon members. Graham made himself face them. “You blokes go and collect your gear and join us,” he instructed, trying to sound at least neutral.
“Gawd! Bloody hell!” Pigsy muttered.
“Just do it!” Graham snapped, his own emotions so jangled he was on the edge of losing his temper.
“But we are senior cadets,” Waters challenged. “Why should we be with a junior platoon?”
“Ask CUO Grey, not me!” Graham replied. “Or ask Capt Conkey. Now either do what you are told or take yourselves to the CSM.”
The four scowled but LCpl Franks turned and started walking away towards where 4 Platoon had left their gear. ‘He is the weakest,’ Graham thought as he watched the others reluctantly follow.
He was amazed to find his heart was beating as rapidly as if he had run a race and he knew he was deeply angry. But at least they had obeyed. “Come on!” he snapped at the others and led them back to where their packs were. Once there he sat down on his pack and dug out his stove and food. By then he was so upset he did not feel like eating but made himself.
As he lit his hexamine Graham saw that Kristy was looking at him. For a moment their eyes met and she looked quite wistful. All Graham could do was shrug and look down. ‘I don’t understand either,’ he told himself, although he thought he had a pretty good idea. ‘I’ve been given all the rejects so I must be one too!’
The four ex-4 Platoon cadets returned while Graham was stirring his food in his mess tins. They were still scowling and grumbling but had obviously not complained to either CUO Grey or Capt Conkey. They sat to one side and in a way that signalled they did not want to be part of the section. Turning their backs on the platoon they began preparing their evening meal. It all made Graham feel quite stressed but he forced himself to pretend he was relaxed and happy. To that end he boiled water for coffee and ate his food with apparent enjoyment.
All the while he kept glancing at his watch. There was no time to be wasted. The platoon was due to move at 1700 and the minutes seemed to fly. There was so much to do that Graham became quite anxious. As quickly as he could he washed up, packed away his stove and mess gear, added a tin of food and the ‘bomb’ to his webbing, then refilled his water bottles. He even made a point of brushing his teeth. All the while he chivvied the others to hurry, avoiding a direct confrontation with ‘The Four’ as he did.
The ‘raiders’ were leaving their packs in a row back against the bank and were doing the raid in ‘Patrol Order’, which meant basic webbing. Graham badgered the cadets to hurry, to make sure they had full waterbottles; that they had a spare meal; that they had been to the toilet, and that they had their torches and matches in case of an accident or becoming lost. It all took time and the minutes sped by.
CUO Masters and Sgt Grenfell added to the sense of nervousness by walking around and urging the section commanders to get their people ready. Graham saw that Gwen’s section had all finished and were starting to apply camouflage and that made him even more anxious. He told his own section to do likewise. In none of this was he helped by Franks, his nominal 2ic. All Graham could do was shrug and do the work himself. His ‘original’ cadets were willing enough and quickly cammed up. Even Bragg was keen and helped Milson.
As Graham began applying his own camouflage cream to his face a group of cadets came along the river bed and reported to CUO Masters.
Graham glanced up and saw that they were the ‘attached’ personnel from HQ Platoon: two medics and two signallers. But when he saw who were being sent to his section his heart plummeted in dismay. The signaller was Cadet Carnes, and the medic was ‘Slim’ Lyle, so called because he was big and fat.
‘Oh bloody hell!’ he groaned. ‘What have I done to deserve this pair of slugs?’
That opinion he instantly revised. ‘No, Slim is Ok,’ he told himself. Slim just looked like a big, docile child. He had a baby face and was thought to be a ‘bit of a sook’. His face split into a friendly grin as he approached and Graham could not help smiling back and returning his cheerful grin. Carnes on the other hand just looked miserable and said nothing. He dumped the army radio on the sand and slumped down next to it.
‘More rejects!’ Graham thought unhappily. He studied Carnes’ face and then had an idea. ‘He was on two patrols with Pete. Maybe he isn’t as bad as he looks. I’ll ask Pete.’
Seeing that he still had 15 minutes before they were due to move Graham went in search of Peter. He found him swinging on his webbing, preparatory to moving over to join 4 Platoon. Peter was grinning happily and was clearly enjoying himself and looking forward to the exercise.
Graham was so miserable and down that he was sorely tempted to unburden his sorrows to his friend but instead he managed a smile and said, “I’ve been give Carnes as my sig. Who decided that?”
“He asked to go to your section,” Peter replied.
That was a surprise and it must have showed. Graham shook his head and said, “You had him in your patrol. What’s he like?”
Peter looked thoughtful, then answered, “Most of the time he is no trouble. He just mopes along, and he does what you tell him without argument. But he is a real loner and keeps to himself.”
“Is he a good sig?”
Peter made a face. “No. Poor to average.”
“So he didn’t give you any problems, even at night?” Graham asked anxiously.
“Well, not really,” Peter replied. For a moment he looked thoughtful again, then said, “There was just one incident. At the rail bridge.” “What did he do?” Graham asked.
“Something quite odd,” Peter replied. “We spent half a day studying the rail bridge from a hide a few hundred metres away. We couldn’t go closer because the officers from Heatley and St Michaels were there planning their defence. So we waited till the middle of the night before crossing the bed of the river under the bridge. It was about three in the morning and I stopped the patrol while I measured the circumference of one of the concrete pylons. It was weird.”
Peter paused and Graham felt a distinct sense of apprehension. “In what way?” he asked.
“When I finished I found Carnes just standing there, staring up at the bridge. You could see it clearly enough in the starlight. I spoke to him but he didn’t move, just kept staring up as though he hadn’t heard me,” Peter explained.
Graham shivered. “What happened?”
Peter shrugged. “I spoke to him again and he just looked at me, then seemed to snap out of a trance. After that he just followed along with no problems.”
“Oh bugger! Is he an epileptic or something?” Graham asked.
“Don’t know. You’d have to ask the officers that,” Peter said.
A call from CUO Grey ended the conversation. Peter put out his hand and patted Graham’s sleeve. “Don’t worry. You will manage. He must like you. Anyway, I gotta go. Have fun! See you later.”
Not at all reassured Graham hurried back to where 2 Platoon was now pulling on webbing and preparing to move. There was no time for any further discussions so Graham swung on his own webbing and did it up, then ordered the section to line up. Most of them did this readily enough but ‘The Four’ made it plain by their deliberately slow moves that they weren’t going to just roll over and give up.
As he walked along the line checking they were all there and ready to go Graham felt his stomach churn with anxiety. The looks in the eyes of The Four told him that they were sure to give trouble the moment there was no CUO or sergeant around. The thought of miserable failure reduced Graham to near panic and he wondered how he could possibly get out of the situation.
No escape offered itself and his hopes were ended by CSM Cleland giving the signal to move. Graham gulped and felt the bile rise in his throat to sour the moment. The Hutchie Men filed off behind the CSM, then 4 Platoon. As Peter went past he gave Graham a ‘thumbs up’ and Graham managed a ‘good luck’ in return.
“We don’t need it,” Peter quipped, “We depend on skill!”
Graham snorted and had to smile. Then CUO Masters tacked on behind 4 Platoon, followed by his attached signaller, Cadet James. Graham had no option but to start walking behind James. By now he was feeling so agitated that it seemed he could not contain his restlessness. He had to force himself to think about something else so as not to break into fits of trembling or tears.
Graham glanced anxiously back along the line, partly to check that the section really was following, but also to get a glimpse of Kristy. He did, but she looked a long way back and he wasn’t sure if she had seen him. For a few seconds his feelings were pushed aside by the impression of sheer military purpose in the long line of camouflaged cadets snaking along under the trees. ‘That looks really good!’ he thought.
For a few minutes he recaptured the old thrill and excitement that he had experienced on previous exercises. It had begun! They were on their way! The elite paratroop raiders about to strike!
CSM Cleland led them along under the overhanging trees until they came out into the open, sandy bed of the Canning just near where it joined the Bunyip. After that they clambered from rock to rock to get across the narrow strip of water between the bank of the Bunyip and the downstream end of the small, tree-covered island. All the while Graham kept looking around, noting where they were, checking for any sign of the enemy, looking back along the line of camouflaged raiders.
‘We look bloody good!’ he thought. The camouflage, webbing, radios and the green epaulets all formed an image that lifted his spirits and helped stiffen his resolve.
The island was only ten metres wide and then there were more rocks to step across, and even a few paces of wading in knee deep water. The water seeping into his boots didn’t bother Graham but he heard loud moans and complaints from The Four. He glared back at him but they ignored him, only relapsing into silence when CUO Masters called back angrily. That scorched Graham’s pride too. ‘He will think I can’t control my section,’ he thought unhappily.
The rocks littered the river bed for a hundred metres. From his rudimentary knowledge of geography Graham decided it was a rock bar which extended most of the way across the river bed. Most were only boulders but there were several extensive sheets of smooth, water-polished granite. This was slippery to walk on and most of Graham’s attention was taken up with keeping his footing.
Beyond that was sand, hundreds of metres of sand. As they trudged across this Graham looked downstream to his left and his mouth fell open in surprise. ‘There are the bridges!’ he noted with astonishment. He knew from the map that the highway bridge was only one and a half kilometres downstream, and the railway bridge another kilometre beyond that but he had not expected to see them so soon. The highway bridge was a grey bar half hidden by clumps of trees growing in the bed of the river. The railway bridge just showed as a criss-cross of spidery lines against the sky beyond.
Seeing the objective moved Graham’s thoughts to the defenders and he looked first over his left shoulder at the line of trees along the river bank. ‘I wonder if Heatley does have a patrol watching us?’ he thought.
Ahead and to the left front was the line of steep sand bluffs which marked the outside edge of Ruin Island. Graham scanned the crest but there were so many trees and bushes and clumps of grass that an enemy patrol would have no trouble staying hidden. Then he remembered what Capt Conkey had said during the briefing: 4 Platoon was to double back later on and go the other way. Marching openly across the sand in daylight was all part of the deception plan.
‘We are the decoys,’ he told himself. ‘I hope they are watching!’
Loud muttering, curses and grumbles from behind caused him to amend this to ‘listening’. The Four were making so much noise that any enemy patrol on either bank of the river for hundreds of metres would be able to hear them. Once again he glared at them and then hissed angrily, “Stop making so much noise back there!”
“Stick it up “ he heard muttered insolently back but was not sure who had said it. However the noise did tone down for a while.
What The Four were complaining about was walking along the sandy river bed. It was hard on the leg muscles, particularly the upper thigh muscles. Graham began to pant and perspire. He kept looking back and noted Carnes plodding along, head down and the corners of his mouth down as well. ‘Oh, I hope he doesn’t give me any dramas,’ he worried.
Pigsy’s voice carried clearly to him. “This is bloody stupid! We must stick out like a country dunny walking up the middle of the bloody river like this. Why don’t we try to sneak up on the enemy?”
Graham stepped out of line and waved Halyday on. When Pigsy and Co came up to him he started walking level with them. “If you’d listened to the orders you’d know that was the idea,” he hissed. “Capt Conkey wants the enemy to see us so they will move more patrols to our side of the river.”
“Oh that’s bloody great! That makes it even harder for us!” Moynihan replied with a sneer.
Graham felt all his anxieties well up again but he kept his voice level. “And you four aren’t helping by making so much noise. Every enemy for miles must be able to hear you. So keep quiet.”
“Up ya bum, ya sniveller,” Waters replied.
By then Graham had turned and was striding along to regain his place at the front of the section. ‘Do I make an issue of that?’ he wondered. He decided to ignore it, but that caused another bout of mental self-flagellation. All his fears about being a weak leader and a coward swirled round in his head. ‘I should stand up to him straight away,’ he thought. But he didn’t, instead continuing to feed his worries.
These were exacerbated by the fact that every step brought them closer to the far bank; and to the moment when his section would move off on their own. ‘Then I will have to sink or swim,’ he thought unhappily.
All too soon that moment arrived. The long line of cadets, about sixty in number, at last reached the base of the sand cliffs. Close up these still looked steep but not as high. About ten metres Graham calculated. Along the bottom ran a dirt vehicle rack, just two wheel ruts in grass. CSM Cleland turned right and followed these for about 200 metres. When the track went in among head-high weeds, some sort of prickly burr, he halted.
“Two Platoon rest,” CUO Masters ordered. He went forward to consult with CUO Grey and CSM Cleland. Graham had a drink and took out his map to study it. He was still looking at it when CUO Masters came back.
“We are here, just near the northern end of the Anabranches,” CUO Masters said, pointing at the map.
That confirmed what Graham had thought. He could see how the sand cliffs had become steadily lower and were giving way to rocks and trees. CUO Masters said, “Do a radio check and then follow Four Platoon for a hundred metres. That will bring you to the other side of the Anabranches. There is a gate in this fence beside us and the vehicle track goes up the bank. You follow that.”
Graham nodded and felt his stomach churn. ‘This is it!’ he thought.