Peter sat at the HQ fire and watched as Graham arrived out of the darkness. He could tell that he was annoyed but did not ask why in front of the cadets. Graham sent Cpl Parnell and LCpl Henning in different directions to get the CUOs and told Peter to put HQ to bed. Then he moved on into the darkness in the direction of 1 Platoon.
Peter stood up and ordered the fire doused. Reluctantly the cadets stirred themselves and began preparing for bed. In the darkness Peter managed to bump against Kate and she eagerly gripped his hand for a few moments. Hers felt very warm and the touch filled him with desire.
There was a deal of to-ing and fro-ing as cadets packed up, collected gear or went to the toilet. Peter and Kate both took advantage of it to touch each other several more times. On one occasion Kate pressed herself against him. The effect on Peter was electric. His blood pulsed fiercely and he became instantly aroused.
But they had no opportunity to get away together. There were too many others around; and Peter had a job to do. By the time he had the cadets all settled in bed Graham had returned.
‘I wish Graham wasn’t sharing a hutchie with me,’ Peter thought. ‘Then I might have a chance to get Kate on her own.’ In spite of feeling very frustrated and horny he managed to talk normally to Graham while they prepared their bedding. Graham compounded his irritation by lying down and apparently falling asleep within moments. Peter lay back wide awake and very aroused. He felt intensely frustrated.
Half an hour went by. Still sleep would not come. Peter silently cursed. In the distance there was a sudden outburst of shouting and laughter. Graham muttered, groaned, rolled over and sat up, rubbing his eyes. The disturbance continued. Graham muttered grumpily, groped for his boots and pulled them on, then strode off into the night. Peter pretended to be asleep.
Graham quickly reached the trouble makers. 3 Platoon was like a disturbed ant’s nest. Mocking laughter from the Control Group camp indicated the cause even before Graham enquired. A highly indignant CUO White met him. Pointing accusingly he cried, “The bloody Control Group! They just raided us and let down nearly every hutchie.”
“And they have ‘greased’ Clayfield,” Sgt Brown added. He didn’t sound very concerned about it and by the reflection of his torch Graham could see he was grinning. ‘Bloody Control Group!’ Graham fumed. ‘The camp was just settling down nicely and they have to stir it up.’ “Where’s Clayfield? Is he alright?” he asked.
CUO White gestured to the darkness at the edge of his platoon area. Graham strode over and flicked his torch on. This revealed a whimpering Cadet Clayfield crouched in a shivering ball. His face was smeared with some sort of mixture that was both black and white and he appeared to have no trousers on. Graham clicked off his torch and said, “Are you alright Cadet Clayfield?”
“It hurts! It stings!” Clayfield cried.
“Where are your pants? Did they strip you?” Graham asked. The very idea shocked him as he knew that would be very serious.
“N.. N.. No. I wasn’t wearing any. They (sniff) they just (sob) tipped me out of my sleeping bag,” Clayfield answered.
Both CUO White and Sgt Brown and a couple of other cadets had now arrived. CUO White snapped irritably, “Why weren’t you wearing any pants Clayfield?”
“B.. Be.. because I.. I (sniff) did.. didn’t (sob) want to poo in them again,” Clayfield cried.
CUO White snorted and said, “If you weren’t such a dirty little grub you wouldn’t need to do that.”
His tone and questioning angered Graham who intervened. “Excuse me sir, let’s sort this out first. Cadet Clayfield, did they grease you down there?”
“Yes (sniffle), and it really stings!” Clayfield sobbed.
Graham shone his torch on the other cadets present. “You people go away! Go and put your hutchies back up.” As they moved to obey Graham turned to Sgt Brown and said: “Sgt Brown, get your people organized and back to bed. CUO White sir, could you please have Clayfield’s section commander- that is Cpl Gallon isn’t it?- take him over to HQ so he can wash himself.”
“What about the Control Group?” CUO White demanded.
“I will deal with them now, Sir,” Graham grated. He could see two torches approaching from the officer’s camp. ‘If that is the OC then I want to act before he arrives,’ he thought. So Graham strode quickly over to where the Control Group were now pretending to be innocently asleep.
“Sgt Crane!”
“Yeah, what?” came a surly reply
Graham bristled at the insolent tone but kept his temper in check. Quietly he said, “Come out here please.”
“Why?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Can’t it wait? I’m tired.”
“Now!” Graham growled.
After a few moments Crane crawled out of his hutchie. Graham led him ten metres away from the bivouac. “Now listen to me,” he snarled quietly. “You may not like me, but in front of your troops you do the right thing and address me as sir; or by my rank.”
Crane shrugged. He made no answer for a moment then said, “Yeah. So? What do you want?”
“You know bloody well what I want! Was your platoon just involved in a raid on Three Platoon?”
“Who says so?”
“Their platoon commander. And I will say it again. Address me as ‘sir’.”
“Yes- Sir,” Crane replied.
“For heavens sake! Where is your sense of responsibility? And to grease Clayfield! As if that kid hasn’t got enough problems without being bullied by your lot! I want the people who did it to apologize to him tomorrow.”
“I don’t know who they were.”
“Sir!” Graham snarled. He took a deep breath and went on. “So, you are the sergeant. You should be in control of your troops and you should know. So find out!”
At that moment Capt Conkey and Lt Maclaren arrived. The OC was very angry. “Did your people just raid Three Platoon Sergeant Crane?”
“Yes,” Crane mumbled reluctantly.
“You mean ‘Yes Sir’,” Capt Conkey grated. “I’m not happy, and nor are they. As for Cadet Clayfield, it is a disgrace. The kid has boot polish, toothpaste and shaving cream all over him and his clothes! Who the devil did that?”
“Don’t know sir,” Crane replied.
Graham interjected. “Sir, I have already told him to find out and to apologize in the morning.”
“Good,” Capt Conkey grunted. “OK Sgt Crane, get your people out and line them up, now!”
The Control Group had clearly overheard all this because as soon as Crane called them they all came scrambling out fully dressed. They formed a line and Capt Conkey shone his torch slowly along it. He snarled at them.
“You people should know better. You are all NCOs. You will not only apologize to Cadet Clayfield you will wash his clothes. You idiots! If he chooses to make an official complaint then you could face assault charges. We are talking state law here, not school rules or cadet regulations. Now, first you are all to go over to Three Platoon and re-erect his hutchie and tidy and clean his gear, and all the other hutchies you cut down. Once that is done, seeing you have so much spare energy, you people can parade in webbing and with packs. You will then march to the highway and back. And just to make sure you make it all the way Lt Maclaren will drive down to meet you. Got it?”
“Yes sir.”
“Then move!”
The Control Group did so. Graham and the two officers followed them over to the 3 Platoon area. There was some bickering between the two groups which Capt Conkey silenced. Graham and Capt Conkey then went back towards the officer’s camp. Lt Maclaren remained to supervise.
Graham and Capt Conkey went around behind the parked vehicles to where splashing indicated Cadet Clayfield was washing. A person stood nearby in the darkness.
“Who is there?” Capt Conkey called.
“Cpl Gallon Sir, with Cadet Clayfield.”
Even in the starlight Graham could see that Cadet Clayfield was naked, crouching beside a washbasin. Capt Conkey called, “You can come away Cpl Gallon and allow Cadet Clayfield a bit of privacy.”
“Yes sir,” Cpl Gallon replied. He spoke briefly to Clayfield and handed him a towel, then walked over to join Graham and the OC. They moved to the other side of the vehicles.
As they did a group of three came hurrying from the direction of HQ. As they went to pass around the other end of the vehicles Capt Conkey called loudly, “Stop! You people come here.”
A girls’ voice answered: Kellie Jones’. “Yes sir,” she said.
“Who is there and where are you going at this time of night?” Capt Conkey queried.
“The medics sir, to help with First Aid for Cadet Clayfield.”
Capt Conkey was obviously not amused. “I think Cadet Clayfield can wash himself,” he growled. “He doesn’t need three girls to help.”
“But Sir,” Kellie Jones replied. “We heard that they put mosquito repellent on him and it is burning his skin. We have some cream to try and soothe it, and some methylated spirits.”
At that moment one of the girls turned on a torch and in its light Graham saw Clayfield’s head. He was in tears and was shaking. He sobbed, “It hurts Sir! It stings.”
“Turn that torch off Cadet Denton!” Capt Conkey said sharply. “You girls won’t be needed. You can hand the cleaning materials to Cpl Gallon and then go back to bed.”
The torch clicked off. The girls handed over the wash cloths to the boys and walked meekly away.
Cpl Gallon spoke up. “I asked the medics for the Metho sir. The boot polish won’t come off without it.” He sounded very anxious.
From the other side of the vehicle Cadet Clayfield whimpered loudly, “It hurts Sir. It burns!”
“Wash yourself quickly with soap and water Cadet Clayfield,” Capt Conkey ordered. “Do a thorough job and then wait here. We will take you to hospital if needed. Cpl Gallon, you give him the methylated spirits and then go and bring him some clean clothes. CSM, you keep other people away to give him some privacy and when he is finished report to me.”
Cpl Gallon went and handed the materials to Cadet Clayfield and then went to his platoon area. Even in the dark Graham could see that Clayfield was shivering from pain. Capt Conkey turned and walked away. Graham remained on guard.
Capt Conkey went to the officer’s camp. By the light of the fire Graham saw that all the officers were awake. After relating the story to them Capt Conkey returned with Lt Hamilton and Lt Standish. She had a First Aid kit and Lt Hamilton moved to check his vehicle in case it was needed. Cpl Gallon returned with clean clothes for Cadet Clayfield and a few minutes later reported that he was now drying himself and was dressing. He was sent back to his platoon to go to bed.
When Cadet Clayfield was dressed Lt Standish and Lt Hamilton went to him to check how he was. In the darkness Graham could hear Clayfield sniffling. “It must hurt sir,” he said.
“I’ll bet it does CSM!” Capt Conkey replied. He was obviously very angry and concerned. But as they waited he said, “You handled that every well CSM.”
Graham glowed at the praise. “Thank you sir.”
They moved to join Clayfield and the other officers. Capt Conkey said, “How do you feel now Cadet Clayfield? Do you need to be taken to see a doctor?”
“No sir (sniff). I’ll be alright,” Clayfield answered.
“What do want done by way of restitution?”
“What do you mean sir?” Clayfield asked.
“Do want an apology? Or do want me to take some particular action? Do you want your parents informed?” Capt Conkey replied. He explained that he needed to report the incident to the army and possibly to the police.
“Oh, not the police sir!” Clayfield cried. “It was my fault.”
“How was it your fault?” Capt Conkey asked.
“I called them names sir,” Clayfield replied. He then related more details of what had happened. As he did Graham inwardly groaned. It sounded as though Clayfield had not been the target of the attack but had provoked the Control Group, who until then had just been letting down hutchies. It had been Clayfield’s own boot polish, toothpaste and shaving cream they had used. Apparently it had been loose on the ground instead of packed away as it was supposed to be. On hearing that Graham made a mental note to speak to Sgt Brown. ‘He should have made sure his platoon area was tidy before they went to bed,’ he thought.
Capt Conkey was not appeased. “I still have to report this and I must take action. Are you going to be satisfied with an apology and them cleaning your clothes and gear?”
“Yes sir,” Clayfield replied.
“Alright. We will discuss this again in the morning. Now you go to bed. CSM, go with him and then have the Control Group paraded ready to march; and since they let down 3 Platoon’s hutchies they can take their own down and pack them as well. I want them in full Marching Order in fifteen minutes.”
“Yes sir. Come on Cadet Clayfield,” Graham answered. He led Clayfield back to his own platoon area.
This was now quiet and appeared normal. To Graham’s mild annoyance neither CUO White nor Sgt Brown appeared to be awake but Cpl Gallon was. He took charge of Clayfield and sent him to bed. Graham continued on to the Control Group camp. He found Lt Maclaren there and a very grumpy group of cadets. They became even more unhappy when Graham passed on Capt Conkey’s instructions about the hutchies.
Cpl Bax muttered angrily, “Bugger you Craney! See what your stupid idea has got us into.”
“Don’t call me stupid!” Crane snarled back. “It was your idea to put that toothpaste on Clayfield.”
“You held him down!” Bax retorted.
“Stop bickering and pull these hutchies down,” Graham interjected. But they kept muttering and he listened, noting that it had been Bax and Crane who implicated themselves in the greasing, not Martin or Green.
Ten minutes later he led the grumbling and angry group up to near the officer’s camp. They were fully dressed and laden with their webbing and packs. Graham told them to wait and went to report to Capt Conkley. He found Capt Conkey seated at a folding table writing in the unit’s ‘Incident Book’. “Control Group ready to march sir,” he reported.
Capt Conkey came out and briefly inspected them. He then gave quick instructions to Lt Maclaren who climbed into a Rover and drove off. Capt Conkey then said, “Alright you lot, march down to the highway and back. Off you go!” The Control Group set off in silence but then began to mutter and bicker as they vanished into the night.
Graham and Capt Conkey returned to the officer’s fire. Both the ladies and Lt Hamilton were still awake. The incident was again discussed and there was a lot of anxious debate about possible legal and disciplinary repercussions and on how to prevent similar incidents.
Lt Standish commented, “At least we didn’t have to take him to hospital, not like that poor cadet last year.”
“Carnes,” Graham said, naming the cadet who had been driven to attempt suicide the previous year. He had snuck off during a campfire concert and tried to hang himself from the railway bridge. Only Graham’s deduction as to where he might have gone had allowed him and Peter to drive with Capt Conkey to the rail bridge in time to avert a tragedy.
This caused more discussion on the previous annual camps troubles, causing Graham to have sharp flashbacks to how Cadet Carnes had been bullied to the point of trying to commit suicide. ‘We must make every effort to prevent that sort of thing,’ he told himself.
Capt Conkey suddenly snorted and shook his head. “Three girls wanting to wash him! What nonsense!”
Without thinking Graham smiled as his mind filled with an instant fantasy of Kellie Jones and Leah Allen soaping him (Not Denton!) and he said, “Oh, I don’t know sir.” Then he instantly regretted speaking and began to blush and feel anxious.
To his relief Capt Conkey chuckled. “Yes CSM. I suppose it does have its attractions but you are too young. Now, the adult staff will deal with this. You go to bed.”
The other officers smiled at Graham’s discomfiture. He blushed, said “Yes sir.” and hurried away. Once in his hutchie he lay and tried to relax. While he did he remembered the bullying problems of the previous year, including the greasing of Cadet Carnes. Graham had intervened to stop that and this had made him a target of the bullies as well. It had all led to Carnes trying to commit suicide and only his and Peter’s actions had saved him. He shuddered at the memory of that terrifying time on the railway bridge when all their lives had hung by a thread. The memory made him determined to stamp out any bullying he saw.
He tried to go to sleep but found his mind too active. Instead he lay thinking about the day and its problems. Then he relived the incident of Clayfield and this led to a fantasy of three girls giving him a bath. This caused him to become very aroused. In the middle of this he heard Lt Maclaren’s Land Rover return, followed by the Control Group who were sent muttering and grumbling to bed. It was after midnight before Graham dropped off into a restless sleep.
One result was that Graham almost slept in. He was having a most erotic dream in which Allison had a key part and in which Peter kept interrupting him and reminding him he would be late when it dawned on his sleep fuddled mind that it was probably time to get up.
Suddenly Graham woke up. He clicked on his torch to check the time. Ten to six ! ‘I will be late!’ he thought with dismay. He prodded Peter into wakefulness and hastily dressed. Without waiting to lace up his boots he snatched up his hat and strode off.
A glance showed a figure moving over at 1 Platoon. Good. Stephen was awake. Graham sheered off towards 2 Platoon. No need. Gwen was up and ready. But not Brown or Griffin or Crane. He roused them as quickly as he could. Graham was also painfully aware that he urgently needed to do a pee but there was no time. 0600 his watch said. He groaned.
Graham roughly shook Crane awake then stood up and bellowed: “Come on platoon sergeants! Get them out!”
He marched over to the parade area and took advantage of the half-light to lace up his boots before the platoons assembled. As he did a Land Rover spluttered into life and drove off; the QM and his assistants going to get breakfast.
As soon as all the platoons were present Graham dressed the ranks and ordered the sergeants to call the roll. While they did so Graham scrutinised each platoon in turn. His senses told him that 4 Platoon were unhappy; and that 3 Platoon was grumpy and disgruntled. 2 Platoon seemed normal- but there was a real problem in 1 Platoon.
Graham heard Stephen call Cadet Dibble’s name several times, then ask the platoon if anyone knew where he was. A sick feeling settled in the bottom of Graham’s stomach. He knew, even before he called, that Dibble was AWOL- or worse.
“Number One Platoon report!”
“Sir! Posted strength one and twenty four. Present one and twenty three; one absent sir!” Stephen replied. A sort of collective sigh ran through the company.
“Who is absent?” Graham asked, although he already knew.
“Cadet Dibble CSM.”
“Thank you Sgt Bell. Number Two Platoon report.”
Graham went on with the roll call. He then made the sergeant’s check radios and compasses. Once that was done he said, “Sgt Bell report here. Other platoon sergeants take your platoons back and fall them out to tidy up. Be ready for mess parade at zero six thirty. Platoon inspections at zero seven thirty and company parade at zero eight hundred.”
“Sir!” the sergeants chorused. Stephen marched over.
“OK Sgt Bell, search your platoon area. Send NCOs to all the latrines and have sections search the bush from your camp down to the highway. You question the cadet who shared his hutchie and see if he knows anything.”
“Already done that,” Stephen replied. “He says Dibble was asleep beside him when he went to bed and that he was not there when he woke up.”
“Right, you and he go and check Dibble’s gear. Note what seems to be missing. Report to me in five minutes. Go fast!”
“Right,” Stephen replied. He was clearly worried and also angry with himself. It had been on the tip of Graham’s tongue to remind Stephen that he had cautioned him to keep an eye on Dibble, but the look on his friend’s face made him refrain. ‘Besides, what could Stephen have done? Stay awake all night? Mount a guard?’ Graham pressed his lips into a grim line and turned towards the officers.
He marched up to Capt Conkey, who was joking with the CUOs. Capt Conkey at once sensed something was wrong from Graham’s expression. Graham halted and formally saluted. “Sir, Cadet Dibble is missing.”
“Missing? Done a flit?”
“Don’t know yet Sir, but it looks like it. I have One Platoon doing a search now.”
“Blast it!” Capt Conkey muttered, then he shook his head sadly before issuing rapid instructions. “As soon as Sgt Bell reports, if Dibble hasn’t been found, 2ic you take a Rover and drive east to Mingela and back. Sandra you take the car and drive to Charters Towers. Go all the way and check the Bus Depot, Railway Station and Post Office. All be back by,” he checked his watch. “Six twenty now. Be back by zero seven thirty. If we haven’t found him by then I will phone the police, army and parents. Ah- here comes Sgt Bell.”
Stephen reported, also saluting. “Cadet Dibble is gone sir. He has left what looks like all the gear he was issued, except the kitbag.”
“Do you know if he had any civvy clothes?”
“Don’t know sir,” Stephen replied.
“Thanks Sgt Bell. You go and ask among your platoon if Cadet Dibble had civilian clothes, and what type. Secure his gear and bring it over here. Alright officers, off you go. The rest of you it is business as usual. CUO Sherry, you will have some leadership problems I suspect.”
Sheila nodded, obviously feeling that it was her fault. She turned and walked back to her platoon with Stephen. Graham took the opportunity to rush to the toilet as the pain was becoming acute. Then he returned and marked the roll book. The sun was on him by the time he finished. It was a delightful morning really but he felt tired and depressed.
“Day Four,” Capt Conkey said to Lt Standish. “Always the worst day.”
Graham could only agree. ‘I’d better organize my time a bit more efficiently or I will burn myself out,’ he thought. He returned to his hutchie to pack.
Peter looked at him curiously as the rumour had already swept the company but Graham was in no mood to gossip. He rolled up his bedding as quickly as he could, shaved and began polishing his boots. The sound of a vehicle coming along Bare Ridge alerted him.
‘The QM with breakfast,’ Graham noted. “OK Pete, get HQ over to set up the meal and to serve.” He grabbed his webbing and strode over to the far end of the parade area to meet the vehicle. The QM switched off and hopped out. Graham told him about Dibble.
“I’ve heard CSM. I met Lt Maclaren on the highway,” he said.
They discussed Dibble’s disappearance while HQ marched over, Denton last and grumbling as usual. Costigan directed them to line up the ‘Hot Boxes’ and drink containers. Graham kept looking around, noting the platoons forming up. He looked at his watch. ‘Time to start,’ he saw. A check in his notebook told him it was the Control Group’s turn to eat first.
He called Sgt Crane to move them over. The Control Group all began ambling across.
“March them over Sgt Crane,” Graham called. Even from 50 metres he saw Crane’s face curl into an insolent sneer and saw his lips move. ‘And stuff you too!’ Graham thought. A surge of anger coursed through him. ‘The last thing we need is sergeants who won’t do the right thing and who set a bad example.’ He pondered what he could do to remedy the problem.
Mess parade proceeded smoothly. The platoons marched over, collected their food and went to sit under the tree allocated to them. All were fed within fifteen minutes. Graham then collected his own food and the CUOs and officers filed through last.
‘The OC is looking worried,’ Graham thought, as he ate as quickly as he could.
Capt Conkey also ate fast, using the bonnet of the Land Rover as his table. He was just finishing when Lt McEwen returned in the car. A glance at her shaking head told the story. As she joined them Lt Maclaren also returned. Again, no luck. The OC’s frown deepened.
“I will go and start telephoning,” Capt Conkey said. “Mel, you and Sandra eat as quickly as you can. We still have to position half the clues for the ‘Treasure Hunt’,” he said.
Only then did Graham learn that the officers had been up since 0500, walking around the bush in the dark, placing out the coded clues for the Treasure Hunt. Capt Conkey took the officers out of earshot to give them instructions. After that he climbed into a Rover and drove off towards the army camp. Graham felt very sorry for him. ‘Dibble is certainly causing a lot of people a lot of grief,’ he mused.
HQ Platoon was left to clean up the breakfast area and to re-stow the QM’s Rover. Graham quickly finished his own morning routine then sat to study the timings on the Training Program. ‘I need to plan time for myself, when I can rest and do my admin,’ he told himself. He remembered being told that during his Warrant Officers course but it had not meant much then. Now he could see just how important it was, and why his timetable did not have to match that of the troops.
At 0730 Graham began inspecting HQ Platoon. He was thorough but there was almost nothing to criticize. Peter had made sure of that. ‘At least there is one sergeant I can depend on,’ he thought. To Peter he said, “Good Sgt Bronsky. Have their waterbottles filled and give them a chance to go to the toilet before parade.”
0800 arrived but the OC had not returned. Graham bit his lip. ‘He did say we must go on as usual. I will get one of the other officers to take the parade.’ But when he looked around none were in sight, only the four CUOs. ‘They must be putting out the Treasure Hunt clues. Oh well, we will get moving anyway.’ He raised his voice.
“Right-o platoon sergeants. Parade!”
By the time the parade had been formed up, dressed, numbered and stood at ease neither the OC nor any of the other officers had returned. To use up a bit more time Graham ordered the platoon sergeants to inspect their platoon’s webbing; to ensure it was assembled correctly and that it was fitting comfortably. While they did this he paced up and down in front of the company studying them.
‘Hmmm. Cpl Goltz looks very tired. Dark rings under her eyes. I wonder.... it could be just that time of month, or..’ He was aware that the change in food and lifestyle induced many of the girls to have their period early. ‘Day 4 would be the time for it,’ he thought. But he couldn’t help wondering if Goltz had been awake later than she should have been.
To Graham’s relief the OC returned. He parked the Rover and strode to the ‘edge’ of the parade ground. Graham called the company to attention and handed over. Capt Conkey said, “I won’t post the officers CSM. Just seat the company behind section commanders so I can brief them.”
‘He looks very worried,’ Graham thought. ‘But he is trying to hide it. I wonder what happened?’ In the next five minutes Graham moved the company into position in the shade of the big ironbark, noting as he did that the other officers had reappeared. The OC went to talk to them. Graham marched over to report. He halted out of earshot, but Capt Conkey glanced at him and said, “Yes CSM. Come and join us. You need to know this.” Graham did so and Capt Conkey went on. “Well, the little bugger beat me. I rang his father and he said he already knew. Cadet Dibble had just rung him from Townsville. He had hitch-hiked on a truck in the middle of the night.”
“Bad luck that,” Lt Maclaren offered. “What did the father say?”
“We discussed what to do and he said he would drive to Townsville and pick his son up. I have asked him to phone me when he has his son. I also asked him to bring back after camp any uniform items on issue if his son is not intending to stay in cadets,” Capt Conkey answered.
“Do we want him too?” Lt Hamilton asked.
“Not really,” Capt Conkey answered.
“What a selfish little sneak!” Graham cried.
“Yes. Quite so CSM. Well, it could have been worse.”
“Much worse!” agreed Lt Maclaren.
Graham shivered as he had yet another flashback to when he and Peter had saved Carnes. “We don’t want anyone driven to suicide,” he said.
“Yes indeed!” Capt Conkey agreed, visibly shuddering. “That’s why it is so important to stop any bullying.”
Lt Hamilton shook his head. “Dibble wouldn’t have the guts to commit suicide.”
“Maybe not, but we must always take all the care we can,” Lt Standish replied.
Capt Conkey nodded, then said, “Right CSM, let us get this Treasure Hunt under way.”