After lunch Graham paraded Cadet Dibble to the OC. Once again he listened in a mixture of astonishment and disgust as Dibble whined and wept. Capt Conkey used arguments similar to those put by Graham but the boy shook his head.
“I still want to go home sir. I hate the place and I can’t handle this. I’m not ready for it.”
“This is how you get ready,” Capt Conkey cried in exasperation. “By going away for short periods.”
“It’s a long time to me. Please sir!”
“No. We can’t take you home. It is over five hundred kilometres and I cannot spare a staff member to waste two days driving just because you think you are unhappy; quite apart from the expense.”
“Could I phone my parents sir?” Dibble pleaded. “My father will come and collect me if I call him.”
‘Strewth!’ Graham thought. ‘My old man would skin me alive and disown me for being a weakling if I did that. What sort of parents has he got?’
“No,” Capt Conkey said. “If I let one person do that then, in fairness, I must let all. Stop being such a drag on everybody and try to take a positive view. You are a third of the way through the camp already.”
“But sir!”
“No! That will do. March him away CSM.”
“Sir!” Graham sprang to attention. “Cadet Dibble, about turn! Quick march!”
As he marched Dibble away Graham spotted two people heading across the open grassy area. He groaned. Sgt Brown and Cadet Clayfield. By his peculiar gait it was obvious what Clayfield had done.
“You keep going Cadet Dibble. Rejoin your platoon,” Graham ordered. He swerved to intercept the pair. Sgt Brown confirmed his suspicions: Clayfield had pooped his pants. Graham was incredulous, disgusted and baffled. Another teenager acting like a small child! He scratched his head and went back to report to Capt Conkey. He also looked perplexed.
Lt Hamilton returned with more water. The topic of Clayfield and his toilet training were temporarily dropped to have a discussion on how to organize the shower planned at the army camp that evening. The army camp was only a small establishment. It was primarily a stores depot, with a dozen large sheds full of army equipment and vehicles. There were only two Regular Army staff members stationed there permanently, plus some civilian caretakers. At the far end of the camp were a small group of huts including a kitchen and showers. This part of the camp was used by units for short camps and courses.
Graham knew the layout well as it was where the cadets did their annual promotion courses for 12 days each December. He had done two annual camps and two promotion courses there and was very fond of the place.
As there were only 9 showers in that part of the camp they agreed on a plan to roster the platoons by shuttling them in the two Land Rovers and a truck; and by making the cadets shower under supervision to hurry them through.
Once that was settled Graham followed the OC around to watch the training again. ‘At least that is going smoothly,’ he thought as they walked back up to where HQ was doing a Signals and Command Post Exercise. As he approached the ‘CP’ hutchie he saw Peter hard at work writing so he walked over to him. Peter was sitting on a log beside Cpl O’Brien who was encoding a message.
“How is it going Pete?”
Peter looked up. “Good. We are nearly finished. This lot are better than last year’s group.”
“Fine. Don’t forget that the OC wants all of HQ for that briefing at 1600 to explain tomorrow’s training. After that your lot will be the first to go for a shower. They will then help serve dinner and will be last to eat and will do the washing up.”
“Are we eating at the army camp?”
“Yes. We have army cooks. They arrived today and have opened the kitchen.”
“Then the food might improve,” Peter observed.
Graham laughed. “Might! Make sure you have HQ ready to go at 1630.”
“I will.”
Graham nodded to Cpl O’Brien and went to join Capt Conkey at the officer’s fire. The OOCs were discussing what might be wrong with Clayfield- whether his problem was psychological or physiological- and what could be done about it.
Graham had little to contribute. He kept an eye on the time and reminded Peter by pointing at his watch.
Peter called HQ together, checked that all the radio equipment was accounted for, and had all the stores placed in hutchies. By 1600 HQ were seated in a group ready. Graham tactfully drew Capt Conkey’s attention to them.
For the next twenty minutes Capt Conkey briefed HQ on what they were to be prepared for the following day then handed them over to Graham.
Graham told Peter what they were to take and hurried them off to get ready. Then he quickly collected his own webbing, towel and laundry bag. He carried these over to where the officers were clustered around the vehicles. He waited till the OC had finished talking to Lt Standish then said, “I will go with the first vehicle sir. That way I can keep control of them at the other end.”
“Good idea CSM. Lt Standish will also be going to hurry the girls through the shower,” Capt Conkey replied.
“Oh sir! I was hoping that would be my job,” Graham quipped. The officers all laughed.
HQ came marching over, Denton at the rear. In her arms she was clutching an assortment of equipment, towels, clothing, mess gear and toiletries. Along the way she kept dropping items and having to stop to pick them up.
Peter shook his head. “For heavens sake Cadet Denton! Pack all those loose items in your webbing where they should be!” he cried in exasperation.
The cadets were loaded on the truck. Graham climbed into the cab beside Lt Hamilton who was the driver. Lt Standish went in the back to supervise for safety. Ten minutes later they debussed at the collection of huts at the far end of the army camp. Graham jumped down and looked around, his mind flooded by memories. The place had an unusual, deserted feel about it. The only people there were the three army cooks. Graham was used to the camp when it teemed with marching squads and shouted orders.
There was a small lawn which struggled for existence in the semi-desert environment. Graham allocated part of this to HQ for them to leave their gear. The girls were sent over to where Lt Standish stood on the veranda at the end of a hut where there were two showers and a toilet. He turned to the boys.
“Right, take off your boots, socks and shirts. Leave them here. Go into the shower building wearing only your trousers and thongs. Don’t waste any time in there. Two minutes to finish under the shower. Five minutes total; then out and do your washing in the laundry. Sgt Bronsky, take five others and start in the laundry at once.”
Graham led the way over to the corrugated iron S.A.L. Block. Inside were six showers side by side in cubicles. Behind a partition were a urinal and four toilets. He pointed and said to the boys, “In you go, hurry. You have to be out before the truck arrives back with the next load.” He looked at his watch. The sound of approaching vehicles came to him. He went outside just as the two Land Rovers pulled up to disgorge eighteen members of 4 Platoon. The truck followed with the remainder of 4 Platoon and half of 3 Platoon. Graham called the sergeants over and showed them areas to put there platoons and repeated the instructions for rapid showering.
Within ten minutes he had the newly arrived cadets all lined up at the showers. That done he went inside the male showers to check how things were going. He was pleased to see that all of HQ was finished and had changed into clean uniforms. A queue of waiting cadets stood behind him. As soon as a cadet came out of a cubicle another cadet was sent in. Many looked embarrassed to be without their shirts on and he realized that for many it was the first time in their lives that they had ever been to a communal bath, and that they were shy.
Graham was amazed and could only shake his head over the state of the world. Satisfied things were moving fast enough he went back outside into the cool of the evening.
By then the two Land Rovers had returned and disgorged more of 3 Platoon. Small problems piled up thick and fast keeping him very busy. He made instant decisions and continually used his voice to keep things moving. When things seemed to be going well he went into the kitchen to introduce himself to the cook and to check on when the meal would be ready. Another visit to the showers satisfied him that his orders were being obeyed and that things were flowing as smoothly as could be expected.
As a measure to keep control he had ensured that the platoons were well separated from each other. Each had its own area of lawn. He found this invaluable as he could see at a glance the state of things.
“Sgt Bronsky! Get HQ dressed and over to the kitchen. Have a washing up point set up on a table at that door so people can rinse their mess gear on the way in. You post yourself there and inspect every cadet’s mess gear. If it is dirty they wash it before going in. The rest of HQ are to help serve, except two who are to prepare and run a second wash-up point.”
Peter nodded and began urging HQ to get dressed and to hurry up. Graham stood in the road in the middle of the camp, watching and directing. The vehicles returned with 2 Platoon and half of 1 Platoon. The cadets were ordered to debus and he directed their sergeants where to take them. The Land Rovers were parked and Capt Conkey climbed out.
“How are thing going CSM?”
“Good sir.”
“Fine. I will just say hello to the cooks. I will leave things to you.”
“Sir.” Graham felt pleased by this approval. He looked around. “Corporal Henning, go and ask Sgt Bronsky to let me know as soon as the cooks are ready to serve the meal.”
“Yes CSM.”
Graham did another check of the male showers. It was a press of naked and semi-naked bodies, ribald comments and steam. The sergeants were busy urging the cadets to hurry. He went back to his central position and took stock. ‘4 Platoon all out of the shower and dressing. 3 Platoon in the showers and nearly done. 2 Platoon lining up and ready- but with no sergeant.’ He smiled. ‘Can’t ask Gwen to go in and supervise that lot. It would put her off men for life. Now, only the remainder of 1 Platoon and the Control Group to arrive. Hmmm. Who can supervise the 2 Platoon boys in the shower?’
SSgt Costigan was extracted from the kitchen to do this task. He reluctantly obeyed. Graham checked his watch. ‘Nearly 1800 and things are going well. Good.’ He felt a fierce surge of pride and determination. The glow of Capt Conkey’s praise, and the comment that he was being considered not only as a potential CUO but for the plum command- 4 Platoon, worked strongly in him.
‘I won’t let Capt Conkey down. I will make a real success of this camp,’ he told himself.
Peter came over to him from where wash basins of hot water were being placed on a table beside the entrance to the kitchen. “The cook says you can start sending them through,” he said.
“Thanks Sgt Bronsky. Sergeant Griffin! Start moving Four Platoon in to get their meal.”
“Yes sir.”
Dusk was setting in. It was pleasantly cool. Graham felt pleased. Cadets sat in busy groups or flowed in orderly lines. There was no confusion. The officers had nothing to do but sit in a group over near the canteen and talk. The truck returned with the last cadets and was parked. Lt Hamilton came over.
“These are the last CSM, except for two who have been left to piquet the area. We will bring them over as soon as we take the first lot back.”
“Who are they sir?”
“Two from the Control Group: Sgt Crane and LCpl Martin.”
Graham noted the names. 1 Platoon were directed where to put their gear. 3 Platoon were ordered to start eating. Everyone was in high spirits because of the hot shower and the change of scene and Graham had to yell to keep control as darkness set in. The camp was lit by a few street lights as well as lights in the buildings but there were still plenty of dark areas, quite apart from the surrounding bush.
“Good,” he murmured. “All flowing well. I will just nip into the dunny.”
Graham went into the shower block, pushing through the laughing throng of cadets to the rear of the building where a partition separated the toilet area from the showers. He found a vacant toilet cubicle and went in and closed the door. As he sat there, far from relaxed as he was trying to speed his bodily functions along, he could overhear snatches of conversations. Just as he was finished and was pulling up his trousers he heard a cadet at the urinal beside him.
“Hey ‘Grunter’, did ya hear about that slack moll Goltz?”
Graham’s ears pricked up. Goltz! Cpl Erika Goltz in 3 Platoon. And that was Cpl Bax talking to ‘Grunter’ Clyde.
“Nah. What ?” Clyde replied.
Bax answered. “I heard she was offering it around for the boys last night.”
“Oh yeah? Who told ya?”
“Craney.”
“Did he get any?” Clyde asked.
“Reckons he did, but he had ter pay.”
“Oh yeah? How much?”
Graham strained his ears to hear more as the two walked away. He finished buttoning his trousers and shook his head in dismay, as much at the low price quoted as at the information. Hastily he completed dressing.
‘Crane!’ Graham thought grimly. He hoped the story wasn’t true, that it was just boasting, but in his heart he suspected it wasn’t. Goltz had the reputation around the school of being of being a real moll. He went out, pushing his way past the cadets at the washbasins with the idea of questioning Bax and Clyde. Once outside he could not see them.
For a minute he stood there undecided. ‘No, I won’t confront them. I will just be forewarned and keep a better watch. If there is going to be trouble then it will be tonight. Hello- what is that Dibble wimp doing talking to the OC and 2ic?’
Graham strode over to them. Dibble pointed into the mess hall attached to the kitchen and said. “But sir I am really worried. My mother is sick and is due to go into hospital for an operation. I just want to let her know I am alright.”
Capt Conkey tugged at his chin. “Yes. You may use the telephone then. But you are not to mention that you want to go home. If she is not well it would be unfair to her to worry her. Promise me that.”
“Yes sir. I promise,” Cadet Dibble replied.
“Alright. Could you unlock the phone for him Lt Maclaren? And log the phone call,” Capt Conkey agreed. “Hullo CSM. Things seem to be going smoothly. Have you eaten yet?”
“Not yet sir. I will wait till these last ones from 1 Platoon finish in the shower.”
“OK. Let’s see how the food is.”
OC and CSM walked into the mess hall side by side. At a table in the corner Lt Maclaren was writing in the Telephone Log. Cadet Dibble had just finished dialling and lifted the phone to his mouth. As Graham walked past him he heard Dibble say, “Hello Mum. It’s me. Mum please come and get me. I hate it here and want to go home.”
Lt Maclaren looked up in shock. He had been about to walk away to allow Dibble privacy for his phone call. Now he stood beside him and glared. Graham and Capt Conkey stopped in surprise then moved over to them. Graham was instantly angry but restrained himself. Capt Conkey held out his hand for the phone.
Dibble looked scared, then defiant. Reluctantly he handed the phone to Capt Conkey. Capt Conkey turned to Lt Maclaren. “2ic, you and the CSM inspect the meal. I will deal with this.”
“Yes sir.”
Graham met Dibble’s eyes and gave him a look of scathing contempt. Dibble dropped his gaze. Tears began to course down his cheeks. Graham snorted in disgust and followed the 2ic into the kitchen.
When he and the 2ic returned ten minutes later Capt Conkey said, “I have convinced Cadet Dibble’s parents that he should stay and that they should not waste their time, money and petrol coming to get him. I will speak to him later. I am too angry at the moment. There is nothing wrong with his mother and she is not having an operation.” He glared at Dibble, who visibly cringed. “Go and join your platoon Cadet Dibble. Now CSM, have all the cadets eaten?”
“All except HQ and myself sir. The OOCs can eat now,” Graham replied.
“Good. Let’s eat. Then we can shuttle them back to camp.”
It took an hour and a half to do this. As soon as the staff were served HQ also sat down to eat, Graham among them. After that HQ were set to work under Peter’s direction to do the washing up and to clean the area. The Control Group were sent to clean showers and toilets. 4 Platoon were bundled onto the vehicles along with part of 3 Platoon and Lt Maclaren and were driven off. Capt Conkey and Lt Standish went with them. The vehicles returned in twenty minutes. With them they brought Sgt Crane and LCpl Martin who had been the piquet at the bivouac area.
Graham looked hard at Crane but said nothing beyond instructions on what to do. He then sought out Stephen and warned him to keep a close eye on Dibble.
The remainder of 3 Platoon and all of 2 Platoon were ordered onto the vehicles. Graham noticed Erika Goltz laughing amidst a group of boys. The sight made him press his lips together and frown. As she went to climb onto the truck her foot slipped.
“F….!” she cried. “Push me up you pricks.”
Graham’s mouth hardened. “Mind your language Corporal Goltz.”
She gave a half sneer as she scrambled up, helped by a push on her bum by Sgt Brown. After the vehicles drove off Graham stood deep in worried thought for a few minutes. Then he went and gave Stephen instructions before heading for the shower.
Graham had the showers to himself. He undressed and washed himself as quickly as he could. He was just lacing up his boots when he heard the vehicles return. Outside again he watched Stephen load 1 Platoon onto the truck and one Rover. Graham noted that no-one spoke to Dibble or helped him onto the truck. The boy looked wretched.
Peter reported that the mess halls and kitchen were clean. Graham went with him on a quick tour of inspection.
“Good Pete. Load as many of HQ as you can into the back of the other Land Rover. You go with them.”
Lt Maclaren was the driver of the Rover. “Are you coming CSM?”
“I will go with the last vehicle sir. I will make sure this place is left clean. That will give me a chance to do my washing,” Graham replied.
“Fair enough,” the 2ic laughed. He climbed in and drove off. Graham went to the laundry and quickly washed the uniforms and socks he had been wearing for the first three days.
Lt Hamilton returned in the truck. After a word to the cooks he loaded all the remaining cadets: HQ and the Control Group; and set off back to Sandy Ridge. Graham rode in the cab beside him. The drive back to the bivouac area only took seven minutes. It was a lovely evening, cool but not cold, no cloud and millions of stars. The glow from campfires indicated the positions of the platoon areas as they turned off the Canning Road.
“I hope there is no mischief tonight,” Graham observed. There was no training. It was a ‘free’ night with platoon ‘campfires’. As he climbed out of the cab after the truck had stopped he was met by Peter.
“Can HQ have their own campfire?” Peter asked.
“Yes,” Graham replied. “There are enough of us, and the officers won’t want us at their fire.”
While Peter was organizing this Graham dumped his washing and webbing at his hutchie and reported to the OC that all were back. Then he did a circuit of the platoons to see how things were developing. All appeared to be going well. The cadets looked to be in high spirits. That made Graham think of Dibble. A check with Stephen showed that Dibble was lying in his hutchie on his own. Satisfied that all was under control Graham returned to HQ where a fire now provided a cheerful welcome.
The jokes and stories had begun but first Graham hung his washing on a clothes line tied above the hutchie.
“Now to relax for a few minutes,” he said to himself. He strolled over to the HQ fire and sat down beside Allison.