Graham almost danced with frustration. His rifle easily had the range – it was only about 500 metres and the .303 was sighted to 2000- but he didn’t dare firing for fear of accidentally hitting someone. It looked as though Roger’s group would be pinned down and captured or driven back. There was no way he could intervene in time. Then, as they watched, the spotlight went out. More gunshots sounded and one of the dump truck’s headlights also went black. The truck stopped about a hundred metres from the Dry Creek.
Then the other headlight went out and reversing lights came on. The truck began reversing and in a minute was driving back into the camp. The shooting stopped. From on the hill they clearly saw the vehicle stop in the street of the camp and at least five men on foot join it. The door of the office building opened and shut several times. Graham didn’t know if it had just been a probe to find out if the roadblock was still there, or whether it had been an attempt to break-out. Either way the cadets had won again.
“Good old Roger,” he said. Then at the top of his voice he yelled again, “Well done Roger!”
His shout echoed around the hills and from the darkness below came the high-pitched warbling of the ‘rebel-yell’ the Senior Cadets used to frighten First Years. Graham smiled. The roadblock was alive and in good heart. The group on the hill cheered and called in return. Graham saw two men near the dump truck stop and look and it confirmed his next move. Time to hit them again instead of waiting.
He led the group back to the hollow, telling Margaret to bring her people in as soon as Cpl Sheehan, LCpl Halyday and Cadet Lawson relieved them. For the time being he dismissed the idea of walking to get help.
To Graham’s relief Lt McEwen was still asleep. That worried him but also relieved him as he was sure she would veto what he now had in mind- a bit of long range harassment. Graham was bubbling with excitement and, in spite of being sick from the heat, sun and overwork, he felt on top of the world. Quickly he gave orders to Cpl Sheehan, Margaret, Rebecca and Hodgins. This included the location of the RV once they withdrew from the hill, which he had very intention of doing. ‘But not yet,’ he thought.
Cpl Sheehan, LCpl Halyday and Cadet Lawson went off to relieve the sentry posts, disappointed at not being included in this new action. Margaret went and collected her section. Graham decided Cadet Wallis should stay as she was looking exhausted and in her place he selected Rebecca Robinson. The medic was keen to come as she had been feeling left out. Margaret went and roughly woke Elizabeth who’d slept through it all.
This led to a small scene. Elizabeth resented being woken and didn’t want to get up and be the rear sentry while Wallis slept. She sobbed something about being scared and wanting to go home and her voice rose in pitch. There was the sound of a slap and Margaret’s voice came in an angry murmur. Elizabeth got up sniffling and went back with Wallis. Graham said nothing. He didn’t feel up to controlling girls like that and was grateful Margaret had acted.
Lt McEwen was left asleep on the hill top with the three sentry posts around her in the darkness. Cpl Sheehan took the radio to his sentry post. Graham led Margaret’s section, plus the sig and medic, down the snout. Cpl Sheehan wished them luck as they passed. The patrol took all of the empty waterbottles with them, plus the hacksaw and wire cutters.
Graham led, with the others strung out behind in single file. He had reloaded his rifle and was tingling with a sensation he was ashamed to admit was joy. This was real adventure!
At ten minutes past eleven they arrived at the roadblock. Roger’s people were alert. Margaret placed her squad in a semi-circle facing the rear and she joined Graham and Roger.
“Your people had much sleep?” Graham asked.
Roger shook his head. “No, only an hour or so each but they’re resting and it was pretty boring till that truck came out. We thought we heard someone creeping around about ten o’clock but it might have just been a wallaby.”
“What happened?”
Roger related the incident but they learned nothing they hadn’t seen from the hill top. Roger was full of curiosity about the battle at the airport after the aircraft landed. Graham gave a quick outline. Hodgins wanted to embellish it but was told to save it for later.
Graham then explained his plans while Hodgins was sent to collect empty waterbottles from Roger’s people.
“How’s your ammo?” Graham asked.
Roger, a good platoon sergeant, had seen to that. “We’ve got fifteen rounds for our two shotguns. We fired three each at the dump truck - found a few more in this truck’s glove box.”
At about 2330hrs Graham led his patrol on through the bush, moving so that Dry Creek was about 50 metres away on their right. Five minutes slow walking brought them to the first isolated bushes and rubber vines on the top bank above the Bunyip. It was very dark under the big trees along the river.
Something scuttled on dry leaves. A twig snapped and they froze. Human or animal? Graham crouched and eased off his safety catch. Very slowly he began stalking quietly forward, boots feeling for sticks. He was careful but it was impossible to be completely silent on the deadfall. His heart was thumping with a mixture of fear and excitement and blood sang in his ears affecting his hearing. His mouth went quite dry. He strained his eyes, forcing himself to use his peripheral vision rather than looking directly at the suspicious area, to make the best use of his night vision.
Graham knew he should back off, that he was taking a terrible risk, but he seemed to be drawn forward. From behind him came the rattle of metal on stone and someone fell with a muffled curse. Then from in front of Graham there was a distinct ‘thud’ followed by the unmistakable noise of human footsteps running in the dark.
“Stop or I’ll shoot!” Graham rapped out.
There was no answer but from the sounds of thrashing the person was entangled in rubber vines. Graham moved quickly forward to a big tree. Using it as cover he peered into the blackness, rifle aimed at the noise which stopped abruptly. In its place could be heard a man’s laboured and frightened breathing. Graham heard soft steps behind him. Margaret.
Graham called: “You in the rubber vines, don’t move! I’ve got you covered!” Then he grabbed Margaret’s sleeve and whispered, “ Margaret, shine your torch - go over to that other tree for cover first.”
She moved quickly behind a large river gum a few paces to the side and after fumbling in her webbing for a moment shone her torch out. The beam immediately caught a middle-aged man in a white shirt and grey trousers. He rolled his eyes in fear and put his hands up. “Don’t shoot. I give up!” he cried.
“Stay there and lie down,” Graham ordered. The man reluctantly did so. Graham walked forward and made a visual search for weapons. He couldn’t see any. Margaret came forward and stood to one side holding her torch on the man. The man looked up at the muzzle of Graham’s rifle and licked his lips in terror.
Wary of an ambush Graham looked around. “Are you alone?” he asked.
The man nodded. “Yes,” he croaked.
“Who are you and where are you off to?” Graham asked
“I. I’m the Cook. I was just leaving,” the man said. He gave his name which Graham promptly forgot.
Hodgins called softly. “Hey sir, there’s a suitcase here.”
“Search it Hodg. That your’s Mister?”
The man nodded. Graham told LCpl Walsh to post sentries in case there were others. Then he asked, “Who fell over back there Walshy?”
“Cactus,” Walsh replied in a resigned sort of voice.
Graham nodded. “I might have known!” He turned to the prisoner. “Now you, what’s going on back in the camp? Where is Bargheese and what is he up to?”
The cook was only too willing to talk. He said that Bargheese was in the office with three or four of the security men. There were five security men in the camp all told but the one called Berzinski was roaming around the buildings. The one who’d been driving the dump truck had some shotgun pellets in him they were trying to get out. There were a
t least two security men at the airfield but the cook didn’t know where the pilots or mechanic were and the storeman was locked in his store shed drunk.
Graham glared threateningly at the man. “Where are the two cadets taken prisoner?” he snarled.
The cook swallowed nervously. “They’re locked in the stationery storeroom in the office.”
“Have they been hurt?”
“No. Not yet. There’s been some real arguments about what to do with them. I thought Bargheese and Lukin – he’s the security boss from ‘Fossicker’s’, were gunna come to blows or even shoot each other. They ain’t happy.”
“What are they planning?”
“They can’t agree. Some just want to head off. That’s what I done. I said I’d make some coffee and sandwiches but once I was out of that room I just grabbed me suitcase and headed off along the river bank when you caught me. I ain’t a crook and I don’t want nuffin ter do wiv that lot,” he whined.
More questions elicited the information that Bargheese had just left the camp when the airfield fuel dump went up. He’d returned an hour later with the hostages and security men and almost beside himself with anger. The cook thought they were trying to repair a plane to fly out but Bargheese kept talking about getting the brown notebook. “None of his gang is willing to go creeping up that hill you are on in the dark. You got ‘em real scared. They don’t know how many you got or where you are and they ain’t keen on getting’ shot, even by accident, although Berzinski and Bargheese keep saying youse is only bluffin’, that yer ain’t game to shoot anyone.”
All this confirmed what Graham had thought. He smiled with grim satisfaction. The enemy were still trapped and Morrow and Anderson were still safe. Time to hit them again.
The cook whimpered. “What yer gunna do wiv me?” he whined. Ants were crawling on him now. “I ain’t done nuffin’. I ain’t a crook.”
“You can keep walking,” Graham decided. The man appeared pot-bellied and unfit. ‘He won’t get too far on foot,’ he decided. ‘The police should be able to pick him up easily.’
Graham took the man’s wallet from his back pocket, copied his name and kept the driver’s licence there, then tossed it back down. “Anything in the suitcase, Hodg? No? Ok Mister, get up and get going.”
The man rose unsteadily, brushing sand and leaves from his clothes, face and forearms. He was shaking with fear as he grabbed the suitcase and hurried off into the darkness towards the weir.
Graham hissed softly. “Torches off!”
Instant darkness. They waited for five minutes while their eyes regained their night vision. The cook could be heard tripping and stumbling in the distance. When he could no longer be heard Graham led them down an animal pad which luckily led to the river bank. There were only a few vines to snare them but enough to raise a sweat and put them in bad tempers.
The bank was steep and went down to mud. Graham leaned his rifle carefully against a tree. Walsh volunteered to act as sentry. There was no danger of any human threat in this inky blackness of trees and vines. It was the snakes and pigs which were now uppermost in their minds.
Graham eased himself down towards where the black water reflected faint starlight. The trees overhung the water, making it very spooky. ‘If there were such things as Bunyips this is where they would be!’ he thought. Then he mentally rebuked himself for being frightened of such superstitious nonsense. It was so dark they could hardly see each other or the tree trunks.
Graham felt his boots sinking into soft ooze. Water flowed into them and he slipped down so far he thought he would fall right in. Stifling a curse he began filling a waterbottle, trying not to think of the mud and slime which must be going into it.
Slip! Splat! Splash!
Cactus swore and floundered. He’d fallen right in. With a lot of kicking and splashing he hauled himself out.
That annoyed Graham. “Shut up Cactus!” he snapped unsympathetically.
Walsh’s voice came quietly from up the track, “That was more than ankle deep!”
It eased the tension. There was some silent laughter and they resumed filling waterbottles while Cactus stood, dripping and mumbling.
It was midnight on Bunyip River and Graham had decided how he would next strike at the enemy.
CHAPTER 37
RAIDERS IN THE NIGHT
It took the cadets fifteen minutes to fill all the waterbottles and find all their rifles. The spare bottles were roped together and given to Rosemary, Rebecca and Cactus and the group made their way back up through the rubber vines to the open country. Graham paused there for a couple of minutes to listen but there were only the usual night noises. He then led them back to the roadblock. The silhouette of Whaleback Hill stood out starkly, backlit by the rising moon. He found it a reassuring landmark.
At the roadblock the waterbottles for Roger’s group were handed over. Roger led Graham to where he could see the Mining Camp. It was several hundred metres away and apart from the lights appeared deserted. Graham imparted the information gained from the cook and Roger chuckled. “Sounds as though all is not well in the enemy camp.”
“No, and it’ll be a lot worse in an hour or so. You know what to do?”
Roger repeated his instructions and timings. Graham knew he could be relied on. He went back and collected his raiding party and, after a minute while they dispersed into the night for a nervous pee, they set off. 00.30 hours.
It still wasn’t too cold which was lucky as all their pullovers and jackets had been left with the packs but there was the beginning of a chill. The patrol crossed Dry Creek and angled North West on a compass bearing through featureless flat bush:- small trees and clay pan where the topsoil had eroded. The rising moon was casting long shadows which made walking easy.
This course brought them to the top of the river bank close to the buildings of the camp. Graham put the cadets in a circle among the bushes and stood behind a tree studying the scene. The office was the closest building but it wasn’t the only one with lights on. The lights were very irritating to the eyes as they spoilt their night vision. He could hear nothing but he waited motionless for a full ten minutes. A couple of the cadets fidgeted slightly, webbing or boots creaking softly.
His patience was rewarded when a man came briefly into view walking slowly round outside the buildings. The man held something in his hands which could only be a gun - Berzinski with his SMG? The man went out of sight away from them. Graham whispered and they moved.
A slow walk for ten minutes took them safely between the river bank and the camp. Graham knew it appeared a risk as the dammed up river effectively cut off any retreat to the west but they were 200 metres from the huts with plenty of cover to hide in. This brought them to the far end of the camp (the enemies’ ‘rear’ in the CUO’s mind) and his first objectives.
He stopped at the dirt track which led off towards the river from the camp. Leaving Margaret and her four cadets, Graham and Hodgins walked slowly and carefully towards the camp. There weren’t many trees and only a few bushes but the cadets kept in the shadows and after a few minutes were crouched at the bottom of the steel girders supporting the water tanks. They were in semi darkness here with just enough light to see what they wanted.
There were several large pipe connections with big circular taps. A plastic waterpipe about 15cm in circumference came out of the ground and several others led away.
After examining these for a couple of minutes Graham walked over rutted and muddy ground to the shadows behind a shed. Beyond it was an electricity transformer humming softly on its concrete blocks. It was surrounded by the usual high, chain wire fence. Thick overhead power cables led in from the south. Several wires went off to distribute power to the buildings and one went off into the night towards the distant glow of the open-cut mine.
Graham didn’t want to smash the transformer as it was sure to be worth a lot of money. All he wanted was to cut the power. First he contemplated climbing the safety fence and looking for a switch
box but rejected that as too dangerous. Then he thought of shooting the large porcelain or glass insulators. This was his original idea.
Hodgins nudged him. “Hey, boss, there’s a chain just back there. Throw that on it. Should ‘short’ it.”
“Good idea Hodg. You take the hacksaw and go and cut those waterpipes. Cut out complete sections and throw them away. Then turn on the taps if you can. I’ll cover you. Be ready to run,” Graham said.
Hodgins chortled with delight. “Sure thing boss,” he replied.
“Show me this chain,” Graham said. They both walked back to where the sig pointed to a chain lying in the dust beside the shed. Hodgins took the saw and hurried back in a state of glee to continue with more authorised destruction. First fire- now water! And all just obeying orders! He knew he’d never be so lucky again.
Graham carefully picked up the chain. Its links were as thick as his fingers and it was a good 5 metres long. It looked like a tow chain. He puzzled over how to throw it, it was so heavy. He could barely carry it back to the cover of the shed. Once there he placed his rifle against the wall and laid the chain out double to shorten it. Then he gripped it and waited, eyes and ears alert for enemy guards.
The gurgling and splashing of water came to his ears almost as soon as the sound of the saw. ‘It has made quick work of the plastic pipe,’ he thought. More sawing and some thuds then the sound of water gushing out to splatter on the ground. There was a sound of a door in the distance and then of a voice raised in alarm.
Now!
Graham walked out into the full glare of a security light while dragging the chain and with both hands. When he had enough room he began to swing it, after the manner of Scottish hammer throwers. He whirled around once. The chain came off the ground. Twice. It lifted and whistled in the air, pulling at his arms and shoulders. Thrice - he let it go. It arched up. One end caught the barbed wire on top of the fence. The other snaked over the transformer with a clatter.
The Cadet Under-Officer Page 38
