Part of the problem was that he did not want to them to suspect he was in any way anxious. Nor did he want to endure looks of mocking pity or smirks. ‘I don’t know why I am worrying,’ he thought ‘I am quite normal.’
‘Get on with it,’ he told himself. Pretending it was of no consequence he ‘casually’ peeled off his trousers and underpants and stepped over to the shower, hotly aware that a dozen pairs of eyes were critically evaluating his manhood. Turning his back on them he turned the water on and began adjusting it.
He had just started rubbing soap over himself when he heard Sgt Grenfell saying loudly at the door, “Hey! Where are you Four Platoon blokes going?”
“Just going to the dunny,” Graham heard Pigsy reply. ‘Damn!’ Graham thought anxiously.
Pigsy, Waters and Moynihan came pushing past the cadets at the door. “Get out of the way you warts,” Pigsy ordered. Then Graham saw his leering face appear. Pigsy guffawed and called to his cronies, “Well well! Look at this. Bum buddies bathtime. Hey Dunning, don’t drop the soap!”
“Piss off Pigsy!” Stephen called back. He was busy lathering his hair and obviously had trouble seeing because he did not have his glasses on and had soap in his eyes.
“You watch out yerself Bell, ya dork,” Pigsy retorted. “You want to watch out for Dunning here, or he will catch you unawares!”
At that the other bullies and several members of 2 Platoon laughed. Waters sneered and called, “Three bloody queers all together in the shower.”
Graham could see that Roger was blushing self-consciously. His own temper was rising and he now turned to face their tormentors. “You three must be the deviates,” he snapped. “Why did you come in here? Do you creep in to watch boys in the shower?”
At that an ugly scowl crossed Pigsy’s face. “Watch what you say Tiny!” he snarled.
“You are the queer!” Graham retorted. “You spend all your time lurking around dunnies to peek at the boys.”
Pigsy’s face suffused with anger and he stepped forward. Graham felt his own heart rate shoot up but he gritted his teeth and stepped out of the shower and squared up, fists raised. “Come on you bloody bully, fight me,” he challenged. He was uncomfortably aware of his nakedness and saw Pigsy’s eyes flick down to his genitals. Fear of being kicked in the testicles caused Graham to half turn but he did not back down. Rather he took another step towards Pigsy. Now that the showdown had come he was unconcerned with his nudity, at least from the perspective of selfconsciousness.
For just a second he saw fear flicker in Pigsy’s eyes. ‘He’s scared of me!’ Graham thought in surprise. ‘If he didn’t have his cronies to back him up he wouldn’t even try it on.’ It was a comforting revelation. That caused him to take another step and he lowered his fists and put them on his hips. Standing feet apart, exposed, and only an arms length from his enemies Graham suddenly sensed that his nakedness was a weapon, discomforting them. He was also aware that both Roger and Stephen had now moved to back him up.
Pigsy sneered and said to his mates, “Come on. Let’s get away from this pack of fags.”
To Graham’s relief Pigsy turned and walked on into the toilet area. Waters and Moynihan both sneered but followed. Feeling intensely relieved Graham breathed out and went back to his shower. “Thanks,” he said to his friends.
“It wasn’t you they were scared of Kirky,” Halyday called. “It was that bloody ugly looking thing Steve pointed at ‘em.”
Flustered and embarrassed Graham snapped at Halyday, “Corporal Kirk to you Cadet Halyday, not Kirky!”
“Yes Kirky,” Halyday replied.
Graham shook his head and resumed washing himself, leaving Steve to deal with the situation. Sgt Grenfell ended it by walking in. “What’s the delay? Come on you people, get a move on. There are a hundred boys waiting out there.”
At that moment Pigsy came walking back from the urinal. “Kirk would like that, the sissy!” he called, but he kept going, hurried on by Sgt Grenfell. Waters and Moynihan followed him. That eased the situation and Graham hurried to rinse the soap off. He quickly dried himself while ordering the next cadet to take his place under the shower. Two minutes later he was dressed and seated out on the grass outside drying his feet.
CUO Masters then inspected his feet and told him to get his boots on. Stephen and Roger came back out and joined him, also having their feet inspected. Dressing himself, and organising the section kept Graham busy for the next fifteen minutes. During that time the long line of boys slowly edged into the shower and the girls began returning in ones and twos. Kirsty came back, all smiles. She sat and began to brush her hair, something Graham found very appealing and erotic.
A group of Heatley cadets had come to talk and tease. Graham recognized two corporals who had been in his section on promotion course. “How are you blokes?” he asked. He found it very interesting to see cadets from other units, and to watch how they did things.
They chatted cheerfully and Graham learned how the Cairns recon patrol had been captured. Apparently after watching from under cover for an hour or so Cadet Duncan had stuck his head up over the top of a big pile of boxes over at the end of the railway. His head had been skylined and a Heatley cadet had spotted the movement. A quick sweep by their 4 Platoon had netted the prisoners. Graham found he was really vexed by the ‘defeat’.
By then all of 2 Platoon had been through the shower and CUO Masters finished inspecting their feet. He then went in for his shower, as did Sgt Grenfell. Graham took the opportunity to elbow into the small laundry in the room at the end of the ablutions to wash his dirty shirt and socks. The wet washing was shoved into his laundry bag with his towel and he went back to where his webbing lay on the lawn- to find his backpack open.
CHAPTER 15
TROUBLE
As soon as he saw his open webbing ugly suspicions crowded through Graham’s mind. He quickly crouched and looked. His worst fears were soon confirmed. His mess tins, knife, fork and spoon set, and the tea towel they were wrapped in to stop them rattling, were all gone. ‘I’ve been robbed!’ he thought.
All around him were other cadets talking, dressing and resting. “Has anyone been in my webbing?” he asked Pat, who was next to him.
Pat shook his head. “Haven’t seen anyone.”
Graham asked Andrews and Halyday and then Kirsty but none had seen anything. The theft was not just annoying, it really jolted Graham. He was sure it wasn’t just a random act and the thought that he had a secret enemy who wished him ill so upset him that his stomach churned. He looked around, eyes seeking Pigsy and Co. They were over at 4 Platoon and Pigsy was busy telling a joke. The 4 Platoon people all burst out laughing but none glanced in Graham’s direction so he didn’t know if they were laughing at him or not.
Tears began to prickle in the corners of Graham’s eyes. So that nobody would see them he stood up and walked quickly away to be on his own. He went off past the end of the ablution block and stopped under a big ironbark. ‘Oh damn it!’ he cursed. ‘I really wanted to enjoy this camp and it is now just one horrible thing after another.’
For a minute he stood staring at where the sun had now gone down behind the big shed. The sunset was bathing the western sky in a blaze of red and gold. Ordinarily he would have savoured the beauty of it but now he was too upset.
Footsteps made him quickly wipe away a tear which had trickled down his cheek. It was Kirsty. She stopped beside him and put her hand on his arm. “It will be alright Graham, you can use one of my mess tins,” she said.
Graham nodded. “Thanks,” he muttered. As he talked to Kirsty he looked across towards the big shed through the chicken wire mesh surrounding the tennis court- and got a shock. Standing on the other side were four officers: Capt Conkey, and three tubby majors. One was Major Wickham, the OC of Heatley. The others were Major Snodgrass, OC of St Michael’s at Broadsound, and the other, the one with the moustache, was Major Ross, the army cadet battalion commander. To add to Graham’s distress and conc
ern he noted that Capt Conkey was glancing in his direction and frowning.
“Kirsty, take your hand off my arm,” he said. “Capt Conkey is watching us and we don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”
Kirsty did but she pouted. “The right idea you mean,” she replied, sending his hopes and heart rate soaring.
That really prickled his conscience. He shook his head. “No, not at camp. We promised to behave.”
“Oh! He won’t know,” she replied. “Anyway, what’s wrong with a bit of a kiss and a cuddle?”
Unknowingly Kirsty had said the worst possible thing. All of Graham’s concepts of integrity and honesty were thus challenged. “I will know,” he replied gruffly. Then he realised how abrupt he must have sounded. A bit of his father’s advice flitted through his mind- ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned!’ He looked at her and managed a smile. “And one little thing leads to another,” he added.
She smiled at that and said impishly, “It looked pretty big to me.”
“Kirsty!” Graham cried. Lust and desire surged in him to weaken his resolve. “Come on. Let’s go back to the others. Those officers are watching us and it must look suspicious.”
Kirsty looked at the three OCs. “Who are they?” she asked. While walking slowly back towards the others Graham named them. Kirsty nodded and asked, “Where is Broadsound?”
“Down past Mackay somewhere,” Graham replied.
“How do you know them?”
Graham described the promotion course and how they met cadets and OOCs from a dozen units on it. By then they had rejoined the others and Graham resumed trying to locate his missing mess gear. By then Sgt Grenfell had finished his shower and dressed and CSM Cleland came striding over to tell him to get 2 Platoon lined up by 1800 for mess parade.
Twilight was setting in by then and the temperature had at last begun to drop so that it was now quite pleasant. In an attempt to get another set of ‘eating irons’ Graham sought out Staff Sergeant Bates but she just shook her head. “None here,” she said. “You will have to wait till we get back to camp.”
That made him late as by the time he returned Sgt Grenfell was calling on the platoon to line up and rebuked him. “Don’t go wandering off Cpl Kirk.”
“But someone has stolen my mess gear sergeant,” he replied.
“You need to be more careful,” Sgt Grenfell answered.
“But what will I do?”
“Borrow, ask the cook,” he replied.
CSM Cleland’s voice cut across the hubbub. “Sergeant Grenfell! Get Two Platoon moving!”
They marched across to the end door of the dining area and filed in to where the army cooks and four cadets from HQ were standing in line behind a serving bench. An anxious Graham spoke to one of the cooks who produced two plates and some cutlery from the kitchen storeroom. “I want it back,” he added.
Graham nodded with relief. It was a good meal: roast pork, baked potatoes, peas and gravy, with fruit and custard for desert. He carried it through into a smaller annexe where eight tables with benches were set up. One each table were bowls of fruit and bottles of sauce and jam. All of 4 Section squashed around one table, Kirsty pressing against Graham’s side. Feeling somewhat better Graham began to eat hungrily.
Gwen’s section took up the next table and then Stephen’s at the third. 4 Platoon then began filing in. To Graham’s irritation Pigsy and Co ended up at the table diagonally opposite. As they sat down Pigsy sneered at him. “What are you looking at Kirk?”
Graham had actually been studying the mess gear of Pigsy and his cronies but he just shook his head and went on eating. Suddenly a piece of soggy bread struck the side of his face. He looked up in surprise and was struck right between the eyes by several peas. Waters had flicked them and the bullies burst into laughter.
Angrily Graham sprang up. “Stop that!” he shouted.
In reply Moynihan picked up another piece of bread and dipped it into his custard, then moved to throw it. Graham raised his arm to protect himself. As he did he saw CSM Cleland come in from the kitchen. Hastily he pulled his arm down but as he did an orange flew past from behind him, striking Waters full in the face.
“Stop that! What the devil is going on here?” CSM Cleland bellowed.
Waters sprang up and pointed. “Sir, Kirk is throwing food at us!”
The blatant lie stunned Graham speechless for a moment. CSM Cleland glared around, then snapped, “Stop it! Corporal Kirk to you Cadet Waters. Corporal Kirk, you keep control of this mob; and your section can clean up the mess hall after the company has eaten.”
“But sir! That’s not fair! I didn’t do anything,” Graham cried.
“Don’t you argue with me Corporal Kirk. I saw that orange come from over here. Even if you didn’t throw it one of your cadets did. You control them, and stop causing trouble,” CSM Cleland snapped.
It seemed so unjust to Graham that he had to struggle to control his tongue. “Yes sir,” he replied between clenched teeth. The smirks on the bullies’ faces did nothing to ease his emotions. At that moment Sgt Grenfell and CUO Masters came in from the kitchen. Sgt Grenfell raised an eyebrow but CSM Cleland just grunted that it was sorted and stamped out. Both CUO Masters and Sgt Grenfell gave Graham calculating looks as they passed to seat themselves at one of the spare tables. For a moment Graham considered appealing to them for justice but then shook his head and sat down.
“Who threw the orange?” he hissed, looking around his section. Andrews shamefacedly owned up. Graham glared at him “Good, you can do all the dirty jobs then!” He turned back to his food. As he ate CUO Grey and Sgt White came in and joined CUO Masters and Sgt Grenfell at their table.
The situation was further eased when Cpl Doyle’s section came in. As Dimbo sat opposite Stephen’s section Stephen called out to the room, “What are those reasons why things are seen? Let me see; there’s shape, spacing, shine, surface, shadow and silhouette- Oh and don’t forget movement!”
The room erupted in laughter and Dimbo scowled and his cadets blushed. Cadet Duncan tried to make excuses and was laughed at and teased till he shut up. A discussion of the recon patrol and how it got caught broke out. Graham ignored this, just feeling the hurt to the unit’s pride.
CSM Cleland had Cpl Rankin’s section from 1 Platoon sent in to eat at the last vacant table. Among them were Erika Goltz and Magda Mollwitz. The two girls made smart comments to 4 Platoon, who all called back and made suggestive comments till CUO Masters snapped at them to behave. Erika then stopped to talk to Sgt White. ‘Bloody flirt!’ Graham thought sourly. ‘Tonight is a free night,’ he thought. ‘Is she setting up Sgt White?’ But what could he do about it? ‘I don’t have any proof, and who could I tell?’ Not the CSM at the moment, he decided. ‘He would just think I was getting back at someone.’
Graham blushed with private shame as he knew he was being a hypocrite. At the back of his mind was still the idea of having at least a bit of a pash with Kirsty. It all seemed very difficult so he concentrated on eating, then hurried the section to finish so they could start working. That was an unpleasant hour, wiping tables, mopping the floor and having scraps and rubbish picked up. Supervising kept him moving from room to room in a lather of sweat and anxiety, very conscious that CSM Cleland and all the officers were still eating and were watching.
It was 1930 and dark by the time the job was done to CSM Cleland’s satisfaction. By then everyone else except 9 Section, who were cleaning the ablution block, had set off back. Lt Hamilton had arrived in his Land Cruiser with the piquet who had stayed to guard the camp. They were joined at the meal table by the Hutchie Men who filed quietly in out of the night after stashing their Yowie suits, webbing and radio in a corner.
Graham stood and pointed to them, then asked CSM Cleland, “Do we have to wait til they finish CSM?”
“Yes, so relax.”
A grumpy half hour followed with 4 Section bickering and blaming each other. At last the meals were all eaten and the last tables
could be cleaned. The Hutchie Men were briefed by Capt Conkey and went to collect their gear. They vanished into the night again. Capt Conkey turned and told Graham to wait till he had inspected. He and CSM Cleland then walked around from building to building.
“Looks OK. Right Four Section, wait here till Lt Hamilton comes back. Nine Section and CSM get into the Land Cruiser.”
“Oh bloody hell!” Andrews muttered. “More waiting!”
“Your fault Andrews so shut up!” Graham snapped.
The section sat outside the kitchen and waited. Their mood was disgruntled to say the least, knowing everyone else was back at camp having a good time- well, not everyone. All of a sudden loud yells sounded from off to the south side of the camp. Graham knew that Heatley were camped there in the bush along a creek line half a kilometre away. The noises came from there.
Then he made sense of the sounds. The loud ‘Hoo! Hoo! Hoos!’ and bellows of ‘Hutchie Men!’ made it clear who was responsible for the uproar. “The bloody Hutchie Men are scaring the crap out of Heatley!” he cried with delight. It was some recompense for the shame of the captured recon patrol. More loud yells punctuated by screams of fright caused the section to grin at each other and to burst out laughing.
As they were laughing two of the cooks came out to listen. “What’s going on?” one asked.
“The Hutchie Men have struck,” Graham replied.
“Hutchie Men?”
Graham described the Hutchie Men, to the great amusement of the army cooks. “Yeah, I saw those blokes. I wouldn’t want to run into that big bloke who looks like Budda in a dark alley,” one said.
“Porno’s his nickname,” Graham replied. Then he burst into laughter as another scream split the night. Angry officers and NCOs could be heard yelling.
The Cadet Corporal Page 15
