by Patrick Ford
“It looks that way. He was obviously intent on killing you to avenge his failure to blow up the ship. The bastard must have been sitting out to sea while we looked for that firing device. We were lucky, Sergeant, especially you.”
“I thought you might be next, sir, but I don’t think he will be a threat for a few months. His arm was badly broken. I’d say at least two months to mend, if he gets the right medical treatment, and he won’t get it here. The police will be checking everywhere for him.”
“Okay,” Jack said. “I’ll keep a good lookout. Thanks for the warning. See you in August; we’re going to Tin Can Bay for our exercise. Recruit training will be at Lavarack Barracks, just down the road from you.”
Thoughtfully, Jack put down the phone when they were done talking. This was serious. If someone had wanted to kill Ray Pennini, that someone had to be connected with the Sunbird III. I really should inform the army of this, he thought, but publicity is the last thing I want. It will put my family’s whereabouts and me in the spotlight. He decided to tell no one for the time being. The assailant was too badly hurt to present a problem any time soon, and Jack would bet that, if the police didn’t track him down soon, he had probably fled the country.
Life at Ballinrobe carried on in a pleasurable manner after they returned from Roma in March. The lovely autumn weather continued throughout April and into May when Jack began to look anxiously at the sky. He needed rain to maintain his oat crop, and more importantly to allow the planting of the wheat crop. While the subsoil had some moisture, it was nothing like it had been last year, and he would welcome a substantial fall.
His luck held. On May fifteenth, Jacqui’s fourth birthday, rain began to drift down. It rained gently for days, until the watercourse began to run and all the earth tanks filled. What a wonderful start for our crop, he thought. Jacqui has worked a little miracle again.
Jacqui had a birthday party, the first she’d had with her little friends and relatives. On the homestead veranda, boisterous children ran and played, ate too much party food, played all the traditional children’s games, delighting the watching adults.
Patrick, now nearly eight months old, crawled around, trying to match his big sister. He could say quite a few words now, but his favourite word was Tom. He loved Jacqui’s red kelpie puppy, and the love was reciprocated. Along with Sam, Tom made it his life’s work to watch over these two little humans.
Jack sat on the veranda’s edge with Mick and Ollie and the new man Ken, drinking a cold beer and watching the life-giving rain drift down. Away through the mist, they could see part of the oat crop. It seemed to be a shade greener, but the rain had only started a few hours ago.
“Ollie and you blokes will have to do without me for a while,” Jack said. “The army will take me for most of August, and then we are planning to go to America to catch up with Susan’s family. We’ll be back for the harvest I hope, but if I’m not I know you will look after it for me.”
“That’s good news, Boss,” joked Ollie. “We’ll be able to get it done without you buggering it up on us. We’ll miss Susan though, she’s worth two men.”
Jack smiled. Ollie was right. She had totally integrated herself into the management of Ballinrobe, taking over the office, setting up systems streamlining their operations, and generally adding to the smooth running of the business.
Jacqui came running up to him, laughing. “Daddy, Patrick said cake.” She hugged him hard. “I am so happy Daddy. Patrick and I love it here. I’m so glad Denni is here too, with Grace and Amy. Amy is a nice baby and Grace can play really well now.”
Jacqui had lost all the uncertainty she’d had when they arrived almost two years ago. Now she knew she belonged here and was loved so much by so many people. “Jacqui,” Jack said, “when the rain stops, we will finish your riding lessons. I think you could handle a quiet pony. Why don’t we try you with Quartpot?”
Jacqui was beside herself with joy. Her very own horse!
That evening, Jack revealed their plans to visit Susan’s family. They would go for about six weeks after the army was finished with him in August. They would visit Worcester first before it became too cold. Then Jack had planned a week in the Midwest, looking at farming systems and machinery. Susan would spend this time with Sarah and her mother. Finally, they would visit Jimbo in Georgia, before coming home via Disneyland and Hawaii.
Life was good.
Chapter 11
The Bushmen’s Rifles
Jack had scheduled several meetings with his officers during the last few months. He had been to the new depot in Roma on a regular basis, meeting with his RSM after cattle sales. Susan accompanied him to Roma several times, commenting, “We should make sure that bed is still working properly.”
Between these meetings and others in Brisbane, they had hammered out a programme for the recruit training in Townsville and the parallel senior NCOs course at Tin Can Bay. This time, Jack put together a special training company, with Con Theopolus in command and the newly promoted WO2 Ray Pennini as his CSM. Jack would initiate the course, and then fly to Tin Can Bay to supervise the NCOs course and the combined exercise Crocodile.
He took the parade at Lavarack Barracks. He was pleased to see his staff wearing the crocodile and crossed swords emblem awarded to the Rifles at the conclusion of their inaugural exercise twelve months ago. The recruits would earn the right to wear this emblem when they had successfully completed the course. Then he and WO1 Andy McGuire flew to Bundaberg where a Huey was waiting to fly them to the training area. The Tin Can Bay Military training area covers almost fifty-thousand acres of coastal mangroves, tidal swamps, savannah grasslands, hilly forest and rainforest. The area provided a challenging environment for any soldier. For these men from the bush, whose everyday activities involved hard manual labour, firefighting, flood boat rescues and firearms, it proved a challenge they could meet head on.
Exercise Crocodile involved training for the conditions in the current war in Vietnam. It was mainly anti-guerrilla warfare. The army had constructed a series of real life scenarios, Vietnamese villages with real Vietnamese, members of the ARVN, to simulate exactly what was happening in Vietnam.
The troops had to patrol a laid out circuit passing through different terrain, including rivers, with both hostile and friendly villages, and a mock-up of the types of tunnels and secret hides found in service in Vietnam. After they finished, they had learnt much, and they better appreciated the task set before their compatriots in Vietnam.
How do you know who the VC is? Can you pick out the booby traps and ambushes? It was sobering stuff.
Jack wrote his reports at the end of August. His troops had performed well, but they would need more intensive training at the Jungle Warfare Centre before they were thrust into combat in South East Asia.
The Rifles had a final parade attended by army training staff; they were impressed by the progress of the Bushmen’s Rifles. Jack and his staff had taken a widely disparate group of men and moulded them into an effective force, with pride in their regiment and in themselves.
Moreover, to support this, recruiting had gotten easier. Lots of Colonel Rocca’s hicks from the sticks wanted to wear the crocodile and crossed swords. Late in the day, he received a visit from General Freeman. Jack had asked this officer if he would present qualification and specialist badges to his men.
After the parade, Freeman had a quiet discussion with Jack. “Your work has been so good with these fellows that Army Training HQ has decided to start up other similar units in Western Australia and South Australia. You have been instrumental in that decision. However, I cannot promise you that you will be CO forever. There will be some senior officers after your job for sure, now that you have been so successful. I can’t promote you yet, but if I can stall the appointment of a new CO until next year, I may have some good news for you.”
“Thank you, sir, I appreciate the faith you have shown in me. I will have to ask for a couple of months leave now. My family and
I will be travelling to the United States to visit Susan’s family soon.”
“Is that so?” said the General. “That’s very interesting indeed.”
Chapter 12
America the Beautiful
“Are you looking forward to seeing your mother?”
Susan snuggled a little closer to Jack where they sat on the side of their bed before bedtime. “Darling, I am not so sure I can handle it. I told her that I could not forgive her for what she did to us; now I don’t know. She seems so different in her letters lately, happier and more confident again.”
“She did treat us terribly, but she had so much to contend with back then. Think how you would feel if I were to die and you were left in a new and strange country. She was so worried about you girls, and she tried to protect you. She could not see our love was strong and when she took you away, she painted herself into a corner and had no place to go.”
“I know, but I still don’t know what to do.”
“Well, I forgive her. When she sees how happy we are, with her two little grandchildren, she will be happy too. I don’t want to spoil her happiness with bitterness, do you? I think now we should be ready to move on. I know I will no longer hold a grudge. When you see her, you will know what to do.”
“Oh, Jack, you are such a good man. I should thank God again for meeting you that first night. I love you so much.” She began to kiss him fiercely. They made sweet, gentle love and drifted off to sleep.
Tomorrow they would set off on a memorable journey.
* * * *
They flew into Logan International. It was magnificent fall weather in Massachusetts. The fabulous colours of the leaves were everywhere. It was cool but not cold. Susan had tears in her eyes. This was her childhood home; it still had a pull on her heart.
“Oh, Jack,” she said, “there they are.” Waiting to greet them was Sarah, tall and slim, looking beautiful with her light brown hair in the latest fashion, holding by the hand two identical little boys, now three years old. Sarah ran to them. She hugged and kissed them all, especially Jacqui who looked quizzically at her but seemed to remember her. The little boys, James and Anthony shyly hid behind their mother, too young to remember these strangers.
“Oh, Susan, It is so lovely to see you again. I have missed you so. Look at little Patrick. He is so gorgeous! Let me hold him. Look boys, here is your little cousin Patrick; is he not the most beautiful baby you have ever seen?”
The twins smiled shyly and reached out to touch the baby. James said, “Momma, he is so small. Will he grow bigger like Anthony and me?”
“Of course he will darling. Now let’s go home.” Sarah led them to the car park, to a new blue Buick station wagon. “Pile in everyone, next stop Grandma’s house.”
Marci’s house was still the same one she had lived in with her Jimmy when they had married in 1945. Susan had grown up here. Jack looked at the lovely countryside. He noticed here and there walls daubed with anti-war slogans. He had been following the news from America. In Australia, there was a significant anti-war movement, but here in America he knew it was much more active. The people were sick of the war, sick of burying their sons. Jack had reached the same conclusion two years ago in Vietnam.
Marci was waiting for them at the door. She smiled hesitantly, but Susan went straight to her, cradling Patrick. She embraced her mother. Both women began to weep uncontrollably. Jack took Patrick, and Sarah led them all into the house.
“Daddy, why is Mommy crying so much? Is she all right?” Jacqui was near to tears herself.
Jack had tears in his eyes as well. He knelt by his daughter’s side. “Mummy is just so glad to see Grandma, she can’t stop crying. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”
James came up to her. “Will you come and play with us, Jacqui? I have a new fire engine.” They ran off, hand in hand.
Marci and Susan cried for a long time, but it was cathartic for Susan. She felt the bitterness drawn out of her and her spirits rise as the burden of her hatred lifted from her. She said, “Momma, I forgive you for all you did to us. I can see now that I must bear some of that blame. Getting pregnant was not right, but we loved each other so much, that we didn’t care. Please, let’s start again.”
“Susan, I can see all that I did was wrong. My mind has healed now. I have taken great joy in seeing you with our lovely Jacqui and baby Patrick. Thank you for coming all this way.”
The healing was complete.
* * * *
Exciting activity filled the next week. They drove up to Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine, resplendent with their autumn colours. They ate Maine lobster and fished for bass in a beautiful lake. The boys and Jacqui grew closer. Jack could see there would be tears aplenty when they had to part. Marci and her girls also grew closer. At supper, Jack frequently found the conversation drifting away to their early lives. They spoke with love for their father, their life in New Mexico, their long ocean voyage to Australia, their days in Armidale.
When the week was up, Jack flew to Denver to begin his search for knowledge into farming on the prairies of the Midwest. His itinerary had changed somewhat. Two days after returning from Tin Can Bay, General Freeman had phoned.
“I wonder, Major, if you can spare me a day before you jet off to America. I have a proposition for you.”
There followed a quick visit to Brisbane. Everyone was happy. Susan wanted a final visit to the shops before she went. Jacqui wanted to see Grace again, and Helen could not resist a visit to her daughter and her family.
* * * *
A young Second Lieutenant ushered Jack into the General’s office at Enoggera Barracks. The boy could not take his eyes off Jack’s medal ribbons.
Freeman welcomed him. “Jack, it’s good to see you again. I won’t beat around the bush. When we heard you were going to America, we thought you might do us a favour. The Americans have invited us to send an officer to their Infantry Training Centre at Fort Benning, in Georgia. They want further insights into our training methods because we have performed so well in Vietnam. In fact, General Glover asked about you personally. He remembers your good work in Vietnam. We were wondering if you could spend a week longer in Georgia for us.”
Jack was already going to Fort Benning to see Jimbo, but he was surprised the Americans would make a request for such a lowly officer and he said so.
“Glover is a high flyer at the Pentagon now, said the General, “I guess if he wants you, he gets you. However, we cannot send a lowly major on such an important job, so I have arranged a promotion for you. You are now incorrectly dressed, Colonel, see that you rectify the situation.” Freeman opened a desk drawer and retrieved a small package. “Here you are. Your letter of appointment and your new badges of rank are in this package. I hope you will accept, but I will understand if you do not.”
Jack hesitated, but he knew he would accept. Such a promotion and the effect on his military career for a week’s work! He accepted.
“Good,” said the General, “Now I want you to wear your Bushmen’s Rifles insignia and your special regimental badges. The Yanks love special units.” Now, Jack had another job to do, but he was more than willing to do it.
He left Enoggera with a proud heart.
Chapter 13
God Shows His Hand
Michael Bowen, Canadian citizen, had become Luis Ortega, Spanish citizen. He had been at Labui Island Resort now for a week. When he had landed at Nadi six weeks ago, he had stumbled from the gate, still concussed and in great pain. He had sniffed at his broken arm regularly for signs of infection, but none had occurred, thanks to the lavish dressing of mercurochrome he had applied from the first aid kit.
He got on a bus and headed for Suva, the capital city. Here, he found a run-down hotel in a crumbling back street where cash was God and no questions asked. He settled down and waited for his arm to heal. In the meantime, he scanned the papers constantly for any news of the man who had attacked Ray Pennini in the hotel in Lodestone. There was no su
ch news.
He lived on rice, canned fish, and painkillers, sleeping away most of the day for almost five weeks. His arm had begun to feel better. There was little pain now, and he was able to flex his wrist and fingers. His forearm had a crooked look to it, but it worked. He obtained a tennis ball and spent hours squeezing it with his bad hand. Gradually the strength returned.
He had given up the idea of returning to Australia. That would be more than dangerous now. He began scheming about how he could strike one mighty blow for Islam and redeem his soul. He decided that he must strike at the very heart of the west, at America the Great Satan. He left the hotel and booked a room at this island resort. A week of luxury and rich food would build up his strength for the ordeal to come.
* * * *
Luis Ortega took a room in a downtown hotel in Vancouver and played at being a tourist for a couple of days before purchasing a Greyhound bus ticket to Winnipeg, but he left the bus in Calgary. From there he hired a small car. Somewhere he would find a place to cross the border into the United States. He still had no clear idea of what he could do to strike at the Great Satan, but if he found his way to Washington, suitable targets would abound.
In Calgary, he purchased hiking equipment, a bedroll, survival rations and a small tent. He drove south, looking for a crossing point that was remote from large towns. He found a controlled crossing point near Sweet Grass, Montana. He observed that little traffic passed either way across the border. After dark, almost nothing happened. The officials would be bored, inattentive, slack, and easy to outwit.
He simply walked across the border about five miles west of the crossing. By daylight he was five miles south of it, thumb out, looking for a ride on Highway 15. By early afternoon, he was in Great Falls, in a roadside diner. It was here that Allah smiled upon him. He sipped coffee as he read yesterday’s copy of ‘USA Today’. There on page three, was the headline:
