Behind Mt. Baldy

by Christopher Cummings

  The thought made him look around nervously. Stephen then posed another question. “But why this ‘Flash’ signal to bump off the Red Eagle now? I mean, if it was part of the plan it wouldn’t be set up that way.”

  Graham nodded his head. “You are right. I think they are just seizing an opportunity. I don’t think it was part of their original plan at all.” He returned his notebook to his pocket and looked at his watch. “It is ten to seven. That ambush is due to be sprung in about an hour.”

  “Maybe it won’t happen now,” Stephen suggested. He pointed to the injured man who was moving his head slowly from side to side and moaning. “If he is the platoon commander he was probably on his recce and hasn’t even made a plan, much less given orders to his troops. His men are probably waiting back in camp for him.”

  Roger agreed, “Yes, and when that other man gets back and reports he was captured by soldiers they will know their secret is discovered and give up the idea.”

  “Why should he report we are soldiers?” Graham asked.

  “When he saw me he called out ‘Soldat’,” Roger replied.

  “I see. Yes, that will have them worried. In that case I doubt they will come here looking for their boss. I reckon having a battle with an unknown number of Australian soldiers wouldn’t be part of their plan. It would blow their whole secret.”

  “But where have they all been hiding?” Roger wondered.

  “I don’t know about ‘all’. There may only be a handful; just a cadre of trained leaders. And I don’t think they've been hiding. I think they have been like Captain Krapinski; just living normal lives and doing some part-time training in secret.”

  “Or even serving in our army to get training,” Stephen suggested.

  “Probably. They seem to use a lot of procedures we understand,” Graham agreed. “And now, with their plan due to start on the nineteenth of June, they have all come together at the Concentration Area.”

  “The nineteenth, that’s today!” Stephen said.

  Roger felt a sharp stab of excitement tinged with apprehension. “So it is! Quick! We must do something. We must tell Inspector Sharpe,” he cried.

  “We’ve already sent Peter to do that,” Graham reminded him.

  Roger felt foolish for a moment, then said, “But Peter didn’t know about this ambush.”

  “I don’t think there will be one now,” Stephen said. “Besides, what else could we do?”

  Roger resented Stephen’s tone. It made him stubborn. “We can’t just sit here hoping it won’t happen. People could get killed. We can’t take that risk.”

  Graham shrugged. “I don’t care if Communists get killed,” he said.

  Roger felt anger flare. “Other people could get killed too, innocent people. Beside, even if Comrade Stinkibum is a Commo he is a guest in our country and it’s Australia’s responsibility to keep him safe.”

  Graham looked at Roger in surprise and had the good grace to blush. There was a short silence while each considered what to say next.

  Stephen spoke first. “We aren’t the government. We aren’t the army. Cadets aren’t soldiers.”

  Roger shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. We are Australian citizens and we know. We have a duty to do something,” he replied. He scrambled to his feet, still clutching the rifle.

  “But what?” Graham said. “We’ve already sent Peter to get the police.”

  A dreadful thought struck Roger. “But they won’t know about the ambush. They could drive into it. Peter could get shot.” He meant killed but couldn’t say it. Graham looked uncomfortable. He also stood up. So did Stephen.

  Graham spread his hands. “But all we can do is send someone else to warn them.”

  Stephen looked around. “Perhaps we could warn them to go another way, to Herberton, so they don’t have to pass through the ambush. We could go to Herberton and telephone a warning to Atherton,” he suggested.

  Roger thought about this. He did a quick sum in his head. “Peter must be in Atherton now. He could even be on his way back already. There isn’t time. We must go and warn him.”

  “Warn him? How?” Graham asked.

  “Go up to the pass and sneak past the ambush,” Roger said.

  “Get real Roger. We don’t know how far the ambush might extend. They could have a cut-off a kilometre down the road. You would have to circle right up over the mountain or maybe go down the railway, then across the valley. There isn’t time,” Graham said. He also began to fidget anxiously and again looked at his watch. Roger glanced at it and felt a stab of anxiety- nearly 0700.

  The sound of another vehicle passing out on the highway decided Roger. “Well, we can’t stand here talking. Time is running out. I’m going, even if you aren’t.”

  “Roger! Don’t be silly. You could get shot!” Graham cried. He placed a restraining hand on Roger’s arm as he went to leave.

  Roger shook him off. “I don’t care. I don’t want to have to live with myself with innocent people’s deaths on my conscience. I’m going.” He began walking towards the highway.

  “Wait Roger! At least get your hat and your webbing,” Graham called.

  That made sense, Roger decided. His webbing included a field dressing, a small first aid kit, and water bottles. ‘I might need all of them,’ he thought. So he turned and walked back. “What about you two?” he asked.

  “I’ll come,” Graham replied. “What about you Steve?”

  Stephen shrugged. “What about this guy? He’s starting to come round. I don’t think we should go.”

  “Then you stay here and watch him,” Graham said. “You can pack up our gear while you wait.” He pointed to the litter on the road. “Roger, pick up all that stuff.”

  Roger did so. Graham picked up the man’s webbing and the three of them walked back quickly to their camp. Roger realized he had not had breakfast but he pushed the thought out of his head. Stephen was very agitated but Roger ignored his pleas to stay. He had a big drink and swung on his webbing.

  “I’ll take the rifle,” Graham said, holding out his hand. Roger hesitated. Graham then spoke in a determined tone. “Give it to me Roger. Captain Conkey put me in charge. I am responsible. If any one is to do any shooting, I will do it.”

  Roger handed over the rifle with a feeling of relief. He knew Graham wouldn’t back out now and was better with weapons than him. Graham looked very much the grim-faced Sergeant Major preparing to go into battle as he emptied his basic pouches of food tins and odd items. His camera he slung over his shoulder and into the empty pouches went the three full magazines from the prisoner’s webbing. It gave Roger a sickly thrill to glimpse the shining brass of real bullets.

  Graham stood up and checked his watch, then studied the map. “Ten past Seven. It is about seven hundred metres. That should only take us ten or fifteen minutes.”

  Stephen gave him a sulky look. “This is stupid! Someone could get killed.”

  Graham nodded. “Probably. We are going anyway. See you later,” he replied. Then he started walking.

  Roger followed. He and Graham walked back along the gravel road towards the highway, leaving a very unhappy looking Stephen standing alone in their camp.

  CHAPTER 26

  IN THE CLOUD

  As they walked past the injured Royal Guard the enormity of what they were going to do hit Roger. It made him sick with fear. “Which way will we go?” he asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Graham replied. “I’ve read that the best place to set an ambush on a road is on the outside of a bend so you can fire both ways along it. And you don’t want any ‘dead ground’ or cover for the enemy. It is better to be level or only slightly above them so they have no escape by going over the bank and downhill.”

  “That little hill above the railway tunnel. It looks right back down to here as well as down the road and railway,” Roger suggested.

  “Yes. And it covers the re-entrant and hillside above the road. I reckon that is the place to start looking
,” Graham agreed.

  The sound of a vehicle coming from the direction of Herberton reached Roger’s ears. “There’s a car coming. Should we stop it?”

  Graham shook his head. “No. Let it go.”

  Roger really wanted to get away from there but knew that Graham was right. With a twinge of regret he watched the car rush past along the highway. It appeared as a flicker of blue coloured movement through the trees. For a moment it was clearly visible along the cleared lane of the road. Then it went up the slope towards the pass and was soon out of hearing.

  “How will we go about it?” Roger asked. They were across the grid by then and in sight of the highway. Both halted a couple of metres back from the edge of the bitumen, from where the railway level crossing and small hill in the pass were both visible. It was mostly open ground all the way to the hill half a kilometre away.

  “I think we should just walk straight up to it in the open,” Graham said as he carefully scanned the hill and the mountainside to the left of it.

  “Shouldn’t we creep under cover?” Roger asked.

  Graham shook his head. “No, we won’t try creeping up. I reckon we will be a lot safer if they see us at long range and we don’t suddenly surprise them. I am hoping they will think we are soldiers and that will worry them. They won’t know how many of us there are and I am banking on them not shooting at us. They will either think that the army is doing a security operation; or that their plan has been discovered. If they’ve any sense they will then pull out before we arrive, rather than risk a fight. If we sneak up and suddenly bump into them at close range with no warning they are liable to shoot first and think later.”

  Roger gulped. His mind told him that Graham was right but suddenly he felt almost paralysed by fear and realized he was trembling. He wiped sweaty palms on his trousers. “I hope you are right.” he said.

  “So do I!” Graham replied with a wry grin. “Now, pick up a stick that looks like a gun. We need to appear armed.”

  Roger did as he was told. It made him feel even more defenceless and slightly foolish.

  “Make sure the safety catch is on,” Graham quipped. Then he walked forward into the open, looked both ways along the highway and strode across. Roger took a deep breath and followed.

  As he crossed the road Roger could see all the way up to the top of the pass. The highway went up in a wide sweeping curve, with the forested mountainside on the left above it. On the right, between the road and railway, was about four hundred metres of gentle slope covered with short grass. The small hill was covered with a scattering of trees and rocks. Having fired rifles at the range Roger knew with sickening certainty that a person on that hill could strike them dead even now. The thought chilled and almost paralysed him.

  Graham angled over to the fence beside the railway. Roger watched a heavily laden truck come grinding into view over the crest. It came growling down towards them at an ever increasing pace. The driver glanced at them curiously. That gave Roger an even greater sense of unreality. Here was this man calmly going about his daily business while he and Graham were walking forward in fear of their lives.

  Roger swallowed to ease his fear and said, “If those characters are really up there they must be able to see us now.” He was finding it harder and harder to keep walking towards the pass. His flesh seemed to be rippling as it cringed in anticipation of being struck by a bullet. But despite an almost paralysing fear he made himself keep pace with Graham, moving ten metres out to his left. The hill loomed larger and larger.

  ‘We are well within effective rifle range now,’ he told himself. ‘If they are going to shoot it will be soon or we will reach those trees.’

  Two hundred metres to go. Keep walking. Breath coming in rasps. Sweat dripping off the nose and upper lip. Walking directly towards the sun. One hundred metres to go. Roger wanted to stop, to go back. He screwed his eyes up against the glare and anxiously searched the slopes for any sign of the ambush.

  Graham kept beside the fence and this led them slowly further away from the highway. By the time they reached the first trees and began to climb the hill they could no longer see the actual road, which went into a cutting between the small hill and the mountain to their left. Roger approved. Graham had led them into dead ground, although a smart enemy who knew his job would have flank and rear security deployed watching the way they were coming.

  Down to his right Roger glimpsed the deep cutting that led the railway into the tunnel. Graham led him to a grassy saddle almost above the tunnel and Roger saw the railway continue on down the mountain. He shivered and remembered his apprehension the previous day when they had stopped just down there. Perhaps the ambushers had been watching them through their rifle sights even then?

  The small hill turned out to be steeper and larger than Roger had expected. As they went up it he began to puff and pant. He wiped sweat from his eyes and kept looking down to see where he was putting his feet. The route Graham had followed led them up into the rear of where he had suggested the ambush be set. As they neared the top and nothing happened he began to relax. A breeze came through the gap and cooled him. He got glimpses out over the Tablelands in the distance.

  Graham had drawn ahead as they climbed. Soon he was twenty paces in front. As he reached the top and began to angle over towards the cutting he suddenly went down in a crouch.

  At first Roger thought he must have tripped he went down so fast, but then he saw him look cautiously around a tree. His left hand went out, thumb down.

  Enemy!

  Roger froze. For a moment he was quite unable to move. His mind refused to accept the field signal. Enemy! It couldn’t be true! But it must be. Graham began scrambling forward through the grass, rocks and grass-tree.

  Blood pounded in Roger’s temple. He twisted the stick he held in his sweaty hands, then scuttled over to a solid looking tree. As he reached it Graham rose and signalled him forward with urgent gestures. Roger did not want to move but he obeyed.

  “Quick!” Graham hissed. “Look, there they go. Five of them at least.”

  Roger was just in time to see an armed figure in a dark green uniform run across the highway at the next bend about a hundred metres away. He glimpsed others scrambling up the steep slope above the road. Quite distinctly he saw the shape of an armed man go back over the crest of the spur into the re-entrant beyond.

  “So they were here!” he said incredulously.

  “Yes. And they obviously saw us coming and bugged out. I wonder where they are going? Come on! We had better follow them.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous?” Roger asked. “After all, we’ve sprung their ambush.”

  “Very dangerous,” Graham agreed. “But we have to be sure they don’t just move and set the ambush further down the road.”

  Roger looked over his shoulder. He could see all the way back down to the junction of the Forestry Road where they had come from. Beside him was the cutting, at least five metres deep. Beyond it, in the direction of Atherton, the highway curved left to go out of sight behind the spur about a hundred metres away. There the road had a cut on the left and a steep drop on the right. The slope led down into the re-entrant which widened to become a valley further on. Up on the opposite slope away to his right he could clearly see the railway they had walked up the previous day. The highway wound its way down the mountainside, its next bend barely visible through the trees. The slope above the highway went up through an area of rocks and grass-trees into a steep, grass-covered ridge with an open forest of tall, white-trunked eucalypts on it. Above that was shrouded in cloud.

  Graham grunted with approval. “Bloody good spot for an ambush alright,” he said admiringly.

  “Here comes a car,” Roger said, hearing the sound of an engine climbing the range from Atherton. He hoped it was Peter with the police. To his sharp disappointment he saw it was a snappy ‘electric blue’ sedan driven by a smartly dressed young woman. She did not even see them and the car sped through the cutting and on towards
Herberton.

  Graham began walking along the top of the cutting in the direction taken by the Royal Guards. Reluctantly Roger followed him, wondering how he could stop him. When they descended to the road they did not cross over as the steep rock face of the cut continued on the other side and was far too high to safely climb. Instead the boys walked quickly down the side of the road.

  Roger was acutely aware that they were now in the intended ‘Killing Ground’ of the ambush and his eyes searched the slopes above them anxiously. Once again he felt his flesh cringing and tingling in anticipation. Graham went first, eyes also searching, the rifle carried at the ready, pointing up the slope.

  A red car came from behind and raced past. The driver, a young man in a white shirt and tie, gaped at them and called something rude. The vehicle vanished around the bend.

  “I wish Peter would hurry up,” Roger said. He looked at his watch. It was half past seven. Peter had been gone three quarters of an hour; ample time surely?

  Graham reached the bend. The road curved sharp left into the re-entrant; then sharp right around the side of the next spur before another sharp left took it out of sight. After a searching scrutiny of the mountainside Graham strode across the road and began clambering up the steep slope beyond.

  “I think I can see them. Yes, there’s one,” he called, pointing up amongst the trees. He continued on.

  Roger crossed the road and began climbing. He looked but could see no sign of the Royal Guards. “Wait Graham,” he called. “Shouldn’t we wait here to tell the police?”

  Graham stopped and looked back. “But they will get away.”

  “We know where they are going. It will be to that ruin on top of the mountain.”

  “They may not. You stay here and tell the police. I will follow them,” Graham replied.

  Roger felt very uneasy. “That’s not a good idea. Instead of a group of four we would then be four individuals scattered all over the place. Remember Stannary Hills.”

  Graham hesitated. He moved restlessly, wiped sweat from his eyes with his sleeve, looked up the mountain in frustration; then put the safety catch on and swore. He took out his water bottle and had a big drink. Roger did likewise, feeling immensely relieved.