CAMP RUSSELL, TARIN KOWT
Following the assault on the vehicle yard, the Australian Defence Force Investigation Service asked to interview every guy in Matt’s platoon. Matt knew that they would be thorough and ask probing questions. Prior to the interviews, Matt talked to the platoon and reminded them to be honest and not to embellish their actions. It had taken three days to collect everyone’s statements. Matt and JJ were the last to go through.
Having finished his own interview, Matt waited outside the demountable for JJ to come out. From inside he could hear JJ laughing with the ADFIS warrant officer.
‘Alright, mate?’ asked Matt as his sergeant exited the building.
‘Yeah, no dramas, boss – he was pretty good. He did say that I might get some grief over cutting the power. Apparently the hospital needs it to do surgery. Who would have thought?’
‘I should think they’d have backup power – he’s talking out his arse.’
As far as Matt was concerned, the investigation was just a formality. His own interview had been straightforward. He had described to the investigator his thinking and actions in detail; the ADFIS man had kept fairly quiet, only remarking, ‘I see. So you decided to take matters into your own hands when no information came to you from the headquarters.’
Matt and JJ headed in the direction of the Yankee Platoon office to develop a training package for the next few days. The commandos were scheduled to train with the partner force out at the mock-up Afghan village.
‘Sir!’ Matt’s signaller, Daniel Barnsley, jogged over to the pair. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you, boss – you too, JJ. The CO wants to see you both in his office urgently.’
Matt and JJ looked each other, then shrugged and changed course to the headquarters.
‘How’s this going to go down, boss?’ said JJ as they made their way up the steps of the HQ building.
‘No issues, mate. I’ve been trying to get hold of the CO for a couple of days to explain what happened, but he has been busy with wrapping up that SAS operation – I assume he just wants to know what the ADFIS guys were asking.’ Matt rapped on the door of the CO’s office then led the way in.
Expecting something of a hero’s welcome – they had successfully repelled a Taliban attack, after all – he was taken aback by the reception accorded him and the sergeant.
‘What in God’s name did you cowboys think you were doing the other day, Rix?’ the CO shouted before they were even fully through the door. At six foot three inches, standing in front of his desk and dressed in MultiCam fatigues, he cut an imposing figure. The CO had been a top performer since joining the military and had experienced a meteoric rise from his beginnings as a troop commander in the Special Air Service Regiment. He was young enough to still be in touch with the men; however, his ascendance had been to the detriment of his actual combat experience. Unlike the CO, the majors and captains below him had nearly all led their units in combat and he had something of a chip on his shoulder about it.
‘The base security plan clearly outlines that you are to hold your position and wait for the Quick Reaction Force to respond to any incursion. And what the hell do you think you were doing by smashing your vehicles through our own goddamn gates, Rix?’ The CO glared at Matt and then at JJ. ‘Do you have any idea of the repair bill we’re facing?’ The CO held up a notepad of scribbled numbers, probably a quick estimates report carried out by one of the other officers on the camp, thought Matt.
‘Jack, I expected more from you, champ.’ The RSM was standing in the corner with a self-righteous smirk. Still addressing JJ, the RSM gestured to Matt. ‘Can’t you control this dickhead?’
Before JJ could respond, Matt said, ‘Well, I guess that all depends on your interpretation of control. If you are suggesting that JJ should be telling me how to command my platoon, then I guess the answer is no, he can’t control me. And come to think of it, I didn’t actually see you out there.’
‘That’s because I was in here with the CO, doing my bloody job, sir.’
‘And my platoon was out there doing our bloody job,’ Matt retorted. ‘Killing the enemy.’
The CO, perhaps furious at being left out of the exchange, threw his notebook against the office wall. It fell onto the table and knocked an open water bottle over a pile of papers. The RSM rushed to mop up the spill, tripping over a power cord on his way and pulling the computer monitor off the side of the CO’s desk. It hung suspended by the power cord just off the floor.
‘Jesus, RSM.’ The CO picked up the monitor and placed it back on the desk and the two of them went to work lifting papers to move them out of the way of the ever-expanding puddle of water.
Matt watched on in disgust. He remembered those dignified officers and tough old warrant officers from the Jungle Training Centre in northern Queensland. They were Vietnam veterans and would muck in with the lads for the duration of the training. They had been men leading men, not bumbling twits like this. Where had that type of warrior gone?
‘So how do I explain this to the task force commander? That my commando platoon used in excess of two hundred rounds of fifty-cal inside our own base walls, then used the Bushmasters as infantry fighting vehicles against suicide bombers, smashed out of our perimeter gates and left their fucking positions, rather than follow the base reaction plan?’ The CO had gone red in the face and was clearly about to unleash another round when he was interrupted by the phone.
‘Sir . . . yep . . . uh-huh . . . Yes, of course, sir.’ The CO shifted awkwardly. ‘Yes, that’s correct, it occurred on the twenty-seventh of June, sir. That’s right, three days ago. He’s with me now. You want me to write it up for you? Right, I understand, of course, sir.’
The CO was looking down but Matt could see that his brow was furrowed, though whether in concentration or consternation Matt couldn’t tell.
‘Okay, I will pass that on, sir. Yes, definitely, sir, I will be sure to pass that on.’ He paused and turned away from the others with the phone pressed hard against his ear. ‘Yes, exactly, I agree. Right, will do. See you then. Thank you, sir.’
The CO hung up the phone and turned to look at Matt. ‘That was General Towers, the Commander of Australian Forces in the Middle East Area of Operations.’ The CO paused as if struggling for the words. ‘He’s furious. He’s coming to the base next week. Rix, mark my words: if you ever deviate from our base plan again, or if you or any of your men so much as step a foot out of line, I will have you court-martialled.’
But Matt was determined to have his say. ‘Sir, the enemy tried to penetrate into the heart of our base. We took the initiative. A commando platoon is not going to just take a defensive posture and hope that the enemy attack fails; the moment was right to strike back at them.’
The CO started to shake his head, but Matt ploughed on. ‘Now the infantry guys know that we have their backs and the Taliban will think twice before trying that again.’
‘I have heard just about enough, Rix. You are treading a fine line, mate.’ The CO looked across at the RSM, who twitched the corner of his mouth in a wry smile.
The CO nodded his concurrence on what was obviously a preconceived plan. ‘Go and see the intelligence guys, Rix – I want you to head out tomorrow on a disrupt operation; I don’t want to see you or your platoon for two weeks.’ The CO looked from Matt to JJ then back again. ‘Sam Long is waiting to provide you with an update.’
The CO breathed in and out, and then resumed his usual, more measured tone. ‘Right, you two can go now – just get out of my sight.’
Matt looked down at his feet to disguise the fact that he was secretly quite pleased with his new orders. Vehicle disrupt operations sucked, but at least he and his men would be out among the population – and, hopefully, the enemy.
‘Right, understood, sir.’ Matt looked at JJ. ‘Let’s go, Sergeant.’
JJ’s face was bright red with rage. Matt knew that he had longed for Matt to unload on the RSM and at the very least argue some more with the CO.
As he and JJ left the CO’s office, Matt decided he would catch up with Sam Long later, after his temper had cooled. Not that he had a problem with Sam; the intel captain had been a classmate of Matt’s back in the Royal Military College and was a walking brain to boot. He was now attached to the SAS but hadn’t let that get in the way of their friendship.
‘So that went well,’ said JJ as they started down the hall.
Matt’s response was interrupted by the appearance of Terence Saygen.
‘Hello there, lads.’
Terence commanded the SAS troop that made up the second combat element of the Special Operations Task Group. Matt had a theory that to be an SAS officer you needed a cool name, had to be at least a level two certified Crossfit coach, an expert in the subject of yourself and have amazing hair. Terence had all these attributes. His ability was dwarfed by his own self-opinion and his men emulated his strutting persona. Matt hated him with a passion, and Matt’s men hated his troop. It had gone past friendly rivalry some years ago.
‘Saygen,’ Matt said under his breath as he edged past the other man with JJ close on his heels.
They walked on a few metres then JJ turned to face Matt. ‘That guy is such a dickhead. I’d like to punch his perfect teeth the other side of his chiselled jaw.’
From the office they just left, they heard the CO warmly welcoming Saygen and heaping praise on his troop’s latest performance. ‘Great outcome last night, Terence – not who we were after, but at least some of the network won’t give us any more trouble.’
‘In and out, sir, easy days – no contest really.’ With that the door to the CO’s office closed.
Matt and JJ continued down the hallway and out into the courtyard. They walked in silence for a few minutes towards the barracks, then Matt spoke.
‘Do you want to know a secret?’ he asked.
‘Sure, why not.’
‘I slept with Saygen’s girlfriend. You know, before they were together.’
They walked a few metres more in silence.
Then JJ started to chuckle. ‘Ha! That’s hilarious.’ JJ laughed until he had tears in his eyes. When he’d managed to compose himself, he said, ‘So I have to ask – did you get freaky with her? You know, tie her up or handcuffs, establish a safe word and delve into some choking?’
Matt looked sideways at him. ‘Jesus, JJ. Why does it always end up with someone getting choked with you, mate?’
‘I don’t know, because I am a Judo black belt, I guess – you know?’
‘No, I don’t know. And no, I didn’t choke her out. Jesus. I actually really liked her; she’s cute, sporty and great in bed. A good catch actually. Anyway, I didn’t play it very smart. That being said, though, if I could do it all again . . .’ Matt paused, looked up at the sky, and sighed. ‘I would definitely choke her out.’
They both laughed.
‘Does he know?’ JJ asked.
‘No, I’m saving that bombshell for once they get married – I figured that would be more fun.’
‘What? Christ, and you’re worried about me? You’re a nasty piece of work, boss. Surely you’re over her by now, anyway. What about that chick you met in Italy? What was her name, the one you keep talking about?’ JJ opened the door into the accommodation block, surprising some of the local contractors who were already hard at work repairing the damage from the past evening’s events.
‘Rachel? I haven’t heard from her. I think it was a holiday fling. She works for some leftie magazine and doesn’t seem the type to want a relationship.’ Gentle and calm, she was like every other girl he had ever been with and every other girl that it hadn’t worked out with.
JJ strong-armed the door to the common room and it slammed open against a box overflowing with various magazines. Copies of Top Gear, Australian Penthouse and FHM slid in all directions across the tiled floor. Matt strode in behind him and Yankee Platoon fell quiet, looking up at their commanders. Most of them sat around one of the three tables in the common room. The men had been down at the range all afternoon conducting scenario training and had just finished cleaning their weapons, ready for any eventuality. They sat around now in dusty combat fatigues. The room smelled of sweat and Nescafé.
‘Right – well, that’s the last time we protect this base,’ JJ said.
The men shifted uncomfortably, correctly interpreting JJ’s sarcasm to mean that the meeting with the CO hadn’t gone so well.
Matt dropped heavily onto the couch in the corner of the room and let out an involuntary sigh. The men resumed their conversations.
Matt slowly shook his head and then reached for a car magazine that lay on the couch. He flicked through it, still too steamed up to concentrate, then tossed it aside and stood up.
• • •
Matt shared a special bond with his men. Most of the guys had endured the same commando selection course he had some years back. Half way through the course, the candidates had to complete a 25 metre underwater swim. When they’d finished, the warrant officer had the men form up in two lines by the side of the pool, screaming that one of them had cheated by coming up for a breath before the end. He demanded that the cheat own up. No one did. A solid ball of muscle, the warrant officer had the men do push-ups until the cheat owned up or he was dobbed in. To a steady stream of abuse, the guys did push-ups for half an hour straight, until most of them collapsed to the ground in a shaking mess. No one owned up, though.
‘Now listen very carefully to me, men,’ the warrant office then said in a quiet and measured tone. ‘We’re going to start doing push-ups again but this time to my count. Any man that fails to stay in time with me will be stood up and put on the bus home, right here and now. Do you understand me?’
Matt knew that the bus would fill up fast; most of the men didn’t have another push-up in them. ‘It was me, Sergeant Major. I took the breath.’
‘Really, I see, sir. Well, this is a bit of a problem isn’t it? Not only are you a cheat but you also have made these men endure punishment that they didn’t deserve. Off you go then, sir. Go pack your gear and get on the bus.’
Matt was floored. This hadn’t gone to plan at all. There was no arguing at this point. He had miscalculated and would now have to return to his unit. ‘What the hell have I done?’ he thought as he walked away.
Just then a captain stepped forward.
‘As I recall, it may have also been me that took a breath, Sergeant Major,’ said the young officer.
‘Yeah, I think it was me, too, sir,’ said a corporal, stepping forward and standing next to the captain.
‘And me, sir,’ said another young soldier.
‘Me too.’
‘You know what, I just remembered that I didn’t even actually swim underwater, sir,’ said one smart arse.
‘Was there a swim test?’ asked the guy from the Air Force who was part of the Joint Terminal Air Controller Program.
‘Captain Rix, get back over here now! It seems the lot of you are a bunch of liars and cheats. Seems that we have much convict blood in our veins. The only way to lose that trait is to run it out of you. Grab your shit and fall in, the lot of you! We’re running the fifteen kilometres back to the camp. With me, let’s go.’ And with that the men fell in and followed the steady pace of the warrant officer. Matt caught up to the back of the group, grateful to be there.
The afternoon’s events had gone perfectly, like clockwork, just as every selection before. Only the actors had changed. The men all smiled at each other as they ran in silence. They thought they had won a small victory. The training staff also shared a quick glance between themselves. They knew that a lesson in loyalty had been driven home today.
Six years on and many of those same men were now in Matt’s platoon. To say they were friends would not be doing the relationship justice. They knew Matt was loyal, but the gap between a private and a captain in Special Forces could change depending on the context and the circumstance. On the battlefield, or in the office, it became noticeable. The men could see that Matt was expected to perform as a leader. When they rested after an arduous activity, he had to plan for yet another operation or do some other task. In the common room, however, Matt was afforded the luxury of a safe place among friends.
• • •
‘Right, lads, I’m off to see the intel guys. We’re heading out tomorrow afternoon on a vehicle patrol,’ he told them. ‘Get the Bushmasters ready. Eddie, tell the guys who aren’t here that preliminary orders will be later this evening.’
‘No worries, boss. How long are we going for?’
‘A couple of weeks, mate, we should be back on the sixteenth or seventeenth of July,’ Matt replied, moving towards the door.
‘What’s the task and how far are we going, boss?’ Derrick, one of the older commandos, asked innocently from behind a book.
‘Come on, mate,’ Matt snapped. ‘I haven’t even seen the bloody intel guys yet – give me a break.’
Johnno threw an empty water bottle at Derrick; Derrick shrugged it off and went back to his book.
As he left the building Matt cursed himself for snapping; there was no need to take out his frustration on the blokes.
Glancing into the kitchen hall as he passed, he saw Terence Saygen and the RSM sitting at one of the long tables, deep in conversation. He wouldn’t mind taking out his bad temper on those two though, he thought, wondering what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it probably didn’t bode well for Matt and his men.