Bolt had just put a blanket over himself and the snuggling Red Lead when there was a shrill cry from someone a few yards away.
‘Snake! Big snake!’ Nadler screamed.
‘Don’t move!’ Bolt said.
Too late. Growling like a wild dog, a long king cobra had bitten Nadler on the calf. It would not let go as it sank its fangs in. Red Lead flew at its throat and bit hard on the soft under-tissue and would not let go. She propelled her paws up and clawed at the reptile’s eyes. The snake was so intent on the bite that it held on for up to 30 seconds, pumping poison into Nadler, despite Red Lead’s attack, which had no impact.
Then the reptile let go, with the cat hanging on to its throat. The thick-bodied monster thrashed around, making nightmarish, guttural sounds. The violent movement flung Red Lead 5 yards away. She hit the base of a tree and seemed knocked out.
Several men moved to bash the cobra on the head with anything they could. Bolt swung an axe, which stuck in its neck. The reptile grunted. Its head fell to the ground, stunned but by no means finished. Grout swung a hammer at it, but only managed a glancing blow. Farrow pulled a burning log from the smouldering fire and swung it like a baseball bat as the cobra reared its head again. Bolt, Grout and Wallis followed with lumps of wood, bashing down on the thick skull. The axe wedged in the reptile’s neck fell free. Bolt grabbed it and delivered six forceful blows to the base of the cobra’s neck and head.
After at least another twenty blows from Bolt, Grout, Wallis and Farrow the monster’s head stopped moving. Still the tail flicked and undulated, slapping legs standing close and creating slimy welts.
Nadler lay still. Bolt felt for a pulse. There was none. Bolt examined the calf and applied a tourniquet above it. He slapped Nadler and pumped his chest, but there was no saving him. Four men carried him to the hospital hut, where there was no medical aid.
A doctor from the 7th Division arrived and pronounced him dead.
‘Takes about ten seconds depending on the dose,’ the doctor said.
‘I reckon the cobra pumped everything it had into poor Nadler,’ Tait said.
The man had absorbed too much venom from the deadliest snake of all.
Attention turned to Red Lead. Bolt examined her.
‘She okay?’ a concerned Grout said.
‘Dazed,’ Bolt said, ‘she has a bump on her skull.’
He carried her to the camp beds and laid her on a blanket. Bolt patted her, saying a few words of comfort. Her eyes opened and closed several times.
Even though Nadler was disliked by everyone, it was still a terrible blow. He was buried the next morning. Wallis, with whom he was partnered everywhere, said a few mumbled, incoherent words over the grave. He was stunned, but didn’t appear deeply moved by Nadler’s shocking end.
An investigation at the scene found that they had bedded down close to the cobra’s nest in the nearby shrubbery. They found a dozen eggs and threw them on the fire.
‘It’s a shock,’ Grout said, ‘but I can’t say I’ll miss Nadler. He was a carping, bullying bastard.’
‘Never speak ill of the dead,’ Noel chanted six times, shaking his head.
‘Why? I spoke ill of him while he was alive. What’s the difference?’
Wallis, who would normally try to bully somebody, was too dispirited to defend his mate. He either didn’t wish to, or could find no reason. Lethargy gripped him.
They had a post-mortem on the snake; its body was measured at 10 feet. Its flattened head was examined. On its crown was thick bone like armour-plating, and the telltale diamond-shaped marking. The body was dark grey with white rings. The underside was yellow. They had a close look at the bite marks on the small area of vulnerability on the throat where Red Lead had done no real damage, before the axe blows and bashings finished the reptile off.
All eyes turned to Red Lead. She was stretched out asleep on Bolt’s backpack. Her mouth and nose twitched.
‘She’s having a nightmare,’ Bolt observed. ‘Still groggy from the blow last night. She needs rest. I think she’ll be okay.’
‘How did she know to go for the jugular like that?’ Tait asked in awe.
‘Watch any big cat,’ Noel said. ‘They all do.’
‘Okay,’ Farrow said, ‘but there was no light. How did she zero in, in what, a split second?’
‘I had my torch on the whole thing,’ Grout said, in a serious tone few had heard much of. ‘The cobra had sunk its fangs into Nadler’s calf, maybe six inches off the ground, and was holding on. Red Lead speared under it and bit upwards at the precise second the cobra’s head was steady. She gripped its face—its eyes—with her claws and just did not let go of the throat until forced to by the cobra.’
Bright was astonished.
‘That cat is the sweetest, friendliest animal I’ve ever known,’ he said. ‘Even when Nadler, God rest his soul, stood in her path or kicked at her, she just sidestepped him with a sort of querulous expression. She kept out of his way but was never antagonistic.’
‘The king cobra has enough venom to kill an elephant,’ Noel remarked, ‘or a cricket team.’
Everyone looked at Red Lead again.
‘Is that the bravest living thing pound for pound, ever?’ Tait said.
‘Dunno about pound for pound,’ Grout said. ‘Just say bravest living thing. Full stop.’
They all mumbled their agreement, even Wallis.
Red Lead was still concussed the next day and took things quietly, lying on Bolt’s blanket and sleeping.
About a hundred POWs, a mix of 7th Division gunners and sailors, including Bolt’s group, were trucked another 15 miles up the line being constructed at Konyu. On the way, they learned what they were involved in with some more clarity. The railway would run from Bampong in Thailand through the border at a town called Three Pagodas Pass and deep into Burma. Work was already in steady progress from Bampong.
The men would be involved in a concentrated effort at Konyu to add to the railway line. First, they had to clear the place, which had already been done in part by earlier groups. Bolt and his group stripped to slouch hats—given to them by the gunners—shorts and boots. Some wore thick footy socks, as if that could help ward off any more reptiles in the vicinity. Everyone, including the others in the force, was made aware of Nadler’s demise. All were more nervous than before, especially when clearing scrub.
‘The Japs seem keen to break us up,’ Farrow observed as he swung an axe into a tree.
‘Divide and conquer, or at least keep us conquered,’ Bright said, cutting down tall bamboo.
‘Do you think they are worried we could rebel if in bigger teams?’
‘Maybe, but we are early runners here. Who knows? I do sense there seems to be greater urgency every day.’
Tait was asked for his assessments. He still had his radio, hidden in the jungle everywhere he went. He was picking up broadcasts from the BBC, and Australia’s ABC radio.
‘I think the whole Pacific war is at a crossroads,’ he said, perhaps with a little melodrama as the font of all knowledge on the world outside. ‘The Japs have been having a real crack in Papua and New Guinea. They’ve sent about 250,000 soldiers there. They are lodged on the northern coast at places called Salamaua and Lae. Our blokes have held the line or pushed them back in three major, prolonged battles. The Nips can’t get down to Moresby on the Kokoda Track.’
‘We’re not losing then?’ Farrow asked.
‘We only lose if they take Australia,’ Bright chimed in.
‘I don’t think that’s possible now,’ Bolt noted. ‘The Yanks are there in big numbers now.’
‘That’s right,’ Tait confirmed. ‘They are all over the place, according to the ABC reports; an estimated one million combat troops. They are calling Australia the Yanks’ “floating aircraft carrier”.’
That information lifted all their spirits. They all felt that there was now less chance of their fears being realised about the Japanese killing their families and raping their womenfolk. They’d heard terrible tales from the Chinese in Singapore, who claimed that the Japanese were continuing to pillage and rampage through eastern China.
Tait’s analysis gave them fleeting good feelings. Meanwhile their small world appeared without hope in an unfamiliar, threatening wilderness. The danger came from their captors, unseen predators, natives that were not to be trusted and, worst of all, hideous diseases that were striking down men daily.
Dysentery was the ongoing scourge that could be handled, just. But many were succumbing to it and dying. The food was not nearly enough to build energy for hard labour. The Japanese attitude was that the weak should be fed less and left to die if they could not recover. Their rations should be given to those fit enough to carry on. If the numbers dwindled, the Japanese overlords were confident they could obtain more Asian workers from all over their conquered territory.
POWs in a close-by British camp were falling daily. In both sites men were suffering from ulcerated throats, mouths and tongues. Tinea was hitting in many parts of the body. All this in less than a week.
The Australians went to a lot of trouble to clear the area around the camp but they could not keep nature at bay. At night, they were in rough clearings some distance from trees and bush. The men wore as much clothing as possible and pulled blankets up over them under mosquito nets. One night when Bolt fell asleep with Red Lead stretched out beside him, making him feel protected, he was rudely awakened by Wallis yelling, ‘Shit, shit, shit!’
‘What?’ others called.
‘Snakes!’
Tait and Farrow shone torches just in time to see the last inches of a 4-foot snake slide over a petrified Wallis. Bolt grabbed Red Lead and restrained her.
‘Don’t move!’ Bolt said.
Farrow picked up an axe that lay beside him and struck the snake, cutting it in half. Its front slithered on. Farrow stalked it and struck again, slicing into its neck with an indirect cut, which was enough to stun it to a stop. The stationary target was easier to hit. Farrow smashed the diamond-shaped head.
Everyone was awake now, examining the new intruder.
‘It’s a krait,’ Noel opined. ‘They also have plenty of poison. Didn’t realise they were found outside India.’
Just at that moment, Red Lead, troubled by something near her, jumped a foot into the air and squealed. A torch was shone in her direction. It put the spotlight on a scorpion about 5 inches long with a tail that buzzed. Bolt brought a boot down on it. It seemed impervious. He smashed it again and again. It still squirmed. Bright came over with his axe and finished it off.
‘Fuck me! What next?’ someone said.
‘How about a drink?’ Grout asked, pulling a bottle of Thai whiskey from his pack. ‘Got this today. Moonshine, no doubt, but still alcohol!’