Graham felt sick. Then his anxiety level rose almost to panic ‘Oh bloody hell! I started with eleven and there are only four left! And we’ve lost one, and had another captured, and we have lost the army radio. What will Capt Conkey think?’
For a minute or so he was gripped by black despair. ‘I’m a failure as a patrol leader,’ he thought miserably.
Then the battle flared up across at the other end of the bridge. Hearing it got his blood up. ‘Beaten without firing a shot!’ he thought. Then he shook his head. ‘No! Like bloody hell! We are almost there. We will do our bit then look for Bragg.’
Gritting his teeth with determination he turned his back on Halyday. “Get the bomb out of my combat pack,” he ordered. Halyday did so, handing it to him. “Now keep going,” he said.
Halyday grinned and set off. Graham gestured Andrews to go behind him. With such a small patrol he reasoned he did not need two scouts. ‘And I don’t want Andrews stuffing things up either,’ he thought. Having made the decision to go on he was determined to see it through.
Twenty metres further on they came to the base of a huge steel power pylon. Graham carefully studied the bushes on the other side of the clearing till he was sure there were no guards then sent Halyday across. This time they went down on their stomachs in the short grass, leopard crawling.
There were a few prickles and burrs but Graham ignored them, hissing angrily at Andrews when he yelped with pain. They reached the thorn trees on the other side and kept crawling on hands and knees. Under the thorn trees there was no grass, only a deadfall of leaves and twigs- thorny twigs. By this time they were within 50 metres of the massive concrete bridge abutments and the whole gigantic structure loomed above them.
They came to a dirt vehicle track which went off down to the river bed. Halyday crossed by crawling. Graham edged up, ready to follow. ‘We are really close now,’ he thought ‘Where are the guards?’
As though in answer to his question voices spoke along the track to his right. Graham stretched out flat, his heart beating rapidly. Two enemy cadets came into view only ten metres away. They were walking slowly along the track, peering into the shadows under the thorn trees. Graham was only three metres back from the edge of the track and knew he had no real cover. He lay flat, hardly daring to breathe. Across the track he could see the dark, lumpy shape that was Halyday.
‘They will spot us for sure,’ Graham thought. In his mind he rehearsed racing for the end of the bridge while the others fought the defenders. The two enemy cadets came closer and closer, until they were almost directly between Graham and Halyday. One of them bent to peer more closely at Graham. Graham tensed, ready to shout and run.
Suddenly Bragg’s voice sounded clearly from down in the river bed to the left.
“Cpl Kirk! Cpl Kirk! Where are you?”
‘Bloody Bragg!’ Graham thought. ‘They were right! The only thing he has going for him is his sister!’
The two St Michael’s cadets stared down the track towards the voice. Bragg called again, his voice quavering with fear.
“Cpl Kirk, where are you?”
“Up here!” called one of the St Michael’s cadets. He was a big lad. Graham thought he recognized him from the promotion course; did he do the sergeants course? The lad snickered and said to his mate, “That smart-arse, know-all Kirk must be somewhere around here.”
The other St Michael’s cadet laughed and replied, “Him! He thinks he’s just too good. Let’s catch him.”
Hearing such an unflattering description of himself caused Graham to burn. Knowing that his cadets had heard it as well made it even worse. But there was relief too. The two St Michael’s cadets went hurrying off down the track. ‘Now is our chance,’ Graham thought. He got up, waved Milson and Andrews to follow then walked quickly across the track.
As he moved in under the thorn bushes near Halyday, Graham heard Bragg say loudly, “Is that you Cpl Kirk?”
“Yes,” replied the St Michael’s cadet. Then there was a loud shout of ‘bang!’ and the St Michael’s cadet yelled, “Gotcha!”
Bragg cried in fright. Graham shook his head and gestured Halyday to keep crawling. As they moved into the next thicket he heard the St Michael’s cadet ask Bragg, “Where is Cpl Kirk? Where is your patrol?”
Graham tensed, ready to hear the worst, but Bragg replied, “I don’t know. I lost them back at some ruins near the highway.”
Graham had the good grace to feel ashamed, and to upgrade his assessment of Bragg. He heard the two St Michael’s cadets questioning him as they brought him back up the vehicle track. By then Graham and the remnant of his patrol were twenty metres further on and had reached the other side of the clump of the thorn bushes. There was nothing ahead of them but bare ground and then the bridge.
Graham lay in the grass under a thorn bush and strained his eyes in the darkness to study the situation. Directly in front of him was another dirt vehicle track leading steeply down the bank. Beyond it on his right front, underneath the actual bridge, was a level area of bare earth and short grass with a couple of small erosion rills leading off down the slope towards the next pylon. This was clearly visible and had at least two cadets standing guard at its base. Coming from beyond the bridge and passing underneath it, right against the concrete wall of the abutment, was another dirt road. This went past Graham’s right shoulder to where it joined the first dirt track on which Braggy was even now being questioned. Parked there was a Land Rover.
From there the road turned left, to run off inland away from the river. ‘That is the road which comes down from the highway,’ Graham remembered. He carefully raised his head to check where the defenders were. There were four or five at the Land Rover and two at the gate where they could see along the road beside the embankment, but there did not seem to be any right in under the bridge.
So what to do? Graham was strongly tempted to play the hero and just stroll nonchalantly across and place the bomb in position. ‘I could do it before they could stop me,’ he thought. Then he told himself that was childish. ‘That would only work if this was a suicide attack. In reality we would place the bomb and set a time delay fuse so we could get safely away.’ So, which was the best way to creep forward; and what to do if he was seen?
While he was thinking this he could hear the St Michael’s officers questioning Bragg. They were only about ten metres away. There was also a radio crackling there. From the sound of the voices the defenders had high morale and thought they were winning. Then Graham saw movement in the shadows at the other side of the bridge. ‘There are two guards there,’ he noted. ‘A section, plus a HQ,’ he decided.
Suddenly there was an outburst of yelling inland near the railway embankment. The interrogation of Bragg was ended and Graham heard an officer calling on a radio to Four Bravo, wanting to know what was going on. Graham deduced the battle must be either the Hutchie Men, or The Four. ‘Hutchie Men more likely,’ he told himself.
The officer on the radio suddenly called, “Cpl Snodgrass, your sentry post at the bend has captured two Cairns cadets. They might be from the same section as this bloke and might be able to tell us where the rest of that section is. Take a cadet and go and bring the prisoners here, quickly.”
‘Snodgrass!’ Graham remembered: a tall, lanky, red-faced cadet who had been on the Corporals Course with him. Cpl Snodgrass said, “Yes sir! Come with me Cadet Pottinger. Let’s go.”
Graham heard the thud of boots as the pair ran off along the dusty road. ‘There must be only four of five left,’ he thought. He began toying with the idea of a diversionary attack while the bomb was placed. That gave him a difficult choice. As the leader he wanted to play the hero and place the bomb but he also knew Capt Conkey was very strong on section commanders being with their troops when they did an attack. ‘Follow me!’ was how Capt Conkey had drummed into his corporals the right sort of leadership in a crisis.
Graham wrestled with his desires, versus his duty, for a full minute, aware that he had only a short period of time to exploit the opportunity. Reluctantly he bent down next to Halyday. “Here, you take the bomb. I want you to crawl across to the wall there and plant it.”
“Ok,” Halyday replied, obviously delighted.
“There are guards at the other side there,” Graham cautioned.
“I’ve seen ‘em,” Halyday replied. He began shrugging off his webbing.
“We will cover you. If you are seen we will attack and you run over with the bomb,” Graham explained.
Halyday nodded and grinned. Graham then said, “Have you got a felt pen to write on the wall?”
Halyday dug one out of his map pocket and held it up. Graham smiled and said, “Off you go.”
Halyday grinned again, then lowered himself flat. With only a faint rustle he slid out of the grass and onto the bare track. Graham moved into a crouch, ready to act, his heart now speeding up with anticipation and excitement. Halyday slid on, wriggling in a ‘hunger crawl’ on his stomach. He went across the bare earth beyond and looked to be only a black lumpy shape that slowly moved.
An outburst of shouting down in the river bed near the next pylon made Graham jump he was so tensed. He could hear CUO Masters yelling and knew it was 2 Platoon. They were obviously having trouble reaching the pylon and Graham experienced a strong twinge of conscience for not joining in the battle to help them.
His anxieties shot right up when the St Michael’s guards down at the next pylon started shouting for help. The people at the Land Rover also began calling out. Graham heard the officer say, “Quick Sergeant Burns, you and Carter move to cover their flank on the slope.”
Two cadets came running from the Land Rover. They went past in front of Graham only two paces away, then spread out and went down the slope, almost stepping on Halyday as they did. Graham held his breath but saw that Halyday had flattened himself into a tiny washout. The two St Michael’s cadets began shouting, ‘bang! bang!’ as they joined in the battle at the bottom. Graham could just see them. They went about half way down the slope. He also saw the two guards at the other side of the bridge move across the road to the top of the bank. They also joined in, but did not go over the crest.
Halyday raised his head, noted this, and began slithering forward, across the road and into the darkness right at the base of the wall. Someone down the slope was flashing a powerful torch about and its flickering light allowed Graham glimpses of Halyday as he inched across the road on his stomach.
More St Michael’s defenders could be heard joining in the battle down in the river bed. It was obvious 2 Platoon had not made it and Graham felt quite guilty. He heard Stephen yelling for 6 Section to pull back and that twisted the knife in his conscience.
But Halyday was there! He had rolled across flat against the base of the wall. In the darkness Graham could hardly see him. He was moving but only slightly. ‘Come on Halyday! Plant the bomb and get out of there,’ he urged silently. He began chewing his knuckles and fingernails.
By then the battle down in the river bed was dying down. 2 Platoon was clearly withdrawing. Graham raised his head to watch the two St Michael’s cadets on the slope and was relieved to see that they had gone even further down and were joining in a loud, laughing conversation with the guards at the base of the pylon. They were gloating over their victory.
Halyday was on his way back by this time. He moved faster coming back, still crawling and hugging the shadows, but not being as careful. Graham held his breath with excitement and silently cheered and urged him on. He kept casting anxious glances at the two guards twenty metres further on but they were also still looking down the slope.
Then Halyday was back. He was chuckling to himself and his eyes danced with excitement. Graham thrust his webbing into his hands and whispered, “Let’s get out of here!”
Without waiting for Halyday he began crawling back the way they had come. Milson and Andrews were still lying under cover and they raised questioning eyes so Graham gave a ‘thumbs up’ and told them to follow. As he did he heard voices at the Land Rover. It was Cpl Snodgrass returning. The officer said to him, “Get Sergeant Burns back up here in case the section these prisoners came from try to sneak in.”
Cpl Snodgrass came running past along the track behind Graham and he heard him calling down to the two. ‘Whew! Just in time!’ he thought.
The hard thing now was not to hurry and thereby spoil things by making a noise. The raiding party had to creep back through the thicket within metres of the Land Rover to reach the first dirt track. They were helped in this by Pigsy and Waters. Graham identified their voices as they made cheeky and insulting answers to their captors. ‘I’ll have to apologise to them,’ Graham thought, while he silently congratulated himself on the success of his decoy plan.
A minute later the patrol were all back across the first track and moving through the thicket of thorn bushes. Two minutes later they reached the power pylon. Here Graham stopped them to check they were still with him, and to have a drink. He found his throat was dry and his temperature high. The battle seemed to have died down right across the area and all Graham could now hear was the murmur of voices back at the Land Rover, and a few defenders calling out down in the river bed.
By his watch Graham saw it was 2210. The cadets with him started to tell each other about what they had done. “Shut up!” Graham hissed. “We have to get away now. We still have to get back across the highway.”
“Yeah, but we did it!” Halyday replied jubilantly.
“What took you so long?” Graham asked.
“I buried the bomb in the sand so they wouldn’t see it, then I wrote Four Section, Cairns, on the concrete with my felt pen,” Halyday replied.
“Well done! You are a bloody great scout,” Graham told him.
“Bloody great crawler alright,” Andrews added, his voice tinged with jealousy.
“Quiet. Let’s go and collect Slim and Carnes,” Graham said.
“I’d leave the useless bastard,” Andrews commented.
“Shut up or you can go back on your own,” Graham threatened. He set off along the top of the bank, his eyes and ears still alert for defending patrols. ‘We will look silly if we just blunder into a patrol on the way home,’ he thought. What was really nagging at him was the problem of how to get back over the highway. That problem was brought home by the sounds of a series of battles ahead of them as the other raiding parties ran into lines of defenders at the highway bridge and up along the highway past Bare Ridge.
Anxiety continued to grow in Graham’s chest. Now he was worrying about Carnes. However he found him sitting quietly with a very relieved Slim under the same thorn bush.
“You OK Cadet Carnes? Do you need to go to the doctor or anything?” Graham asked.
“I’m alright,” Carnes replied.
“Bloody sook!” Andrews teased.
“Shut up Cadet Andrews. Now, no talking. Let’s go back and find that radio,” Graham said. He led off along the fence, walking quickly now, but still alert. The others followed.
Five minutes walking had them at the junction of a fence that went off west and obviously enclosed the patch of overgrown thorn scrub which contained the ruins of the meatworks. For simplicity of navigation to retrace his steps to find the radio Graham wanted to go back through that paddock, but concern over Carne’s having another fit about ghosts if he went past the ruins caused him to vary the route. This time they went left through the fence which ran along the top of the bank, then followed around the outside of the ruins along another fence, staying just back in the edge of the scrub.
This brought them to the highway about a hundred metres up from where Graham thought they had crossed it on the way in. By then the night was quite silent, except for an occasional car. He stopped the patrol under cover and crept forward to the edge of the road to look. Lying on his stomach amid the grass and burrs, he strained his eyes and ears to try to locate the defenders.
By this time he was becoming depressed as the exhilaration of reaching the bridge wore off. Not only did he still have to get back across the highway, but he had to find that radio. Then he had to get what was left of his patrol back to camp by midnight and that only gave him about one hour to move at least 3 kilometres. ‘Then I have to explain to Capt Conkey how I lost half my patrol,’ he thought unhappily.