The Billabong - 1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

1.1

The morning sun rose gently over the scared landscape, heating rocks that were over 2.5 billion years old. This ancient panorama featured gullies of red tinged rocks that contained water holes called Billabongs. In parts, primeval jungle gave way to barren plains of Eucalyptus (Gum) trees and stumpy grass. For over 40,000 years the peoples of this part of Australia had foraged, multiplied, developed customs and rituals, and sought to be in harmony with nature.

It was a silent land, only disturbed by the cries of birds, the thump of kangaroos, and the barking of crocodiles. It was a bountiful land that supported multiple bird life, many types of marsupials, lush greenery, and few humans.

Eventually the rising sun illuminated the Larrakeyah Army Barracks located just 2 kms south east from the main city of Darwin... The barracks was the home of 2nd Battalion Australian Army and comprised three rifle companies, a support company (heavy weapons), an administration company consisting of support elements such as medics, quartermasters, catering and administrative personnel. In all, the Battalion comprised 786 men and women. At latitude 12 deg south of the equator, the year-round climate was around 30 to 35 degrees C; however, the high humidity made living there quite uncomfortable - that is until the body adjusted to the environment.

* * *

1.2

'Corporal. . .'

'Yes Staff[1] . . .'

' . . . did you read the speech made by our revered leader last Monday evening; the one about homos serving in the army, and his way of handling the issue. Did you?'

'Yes, I did.'

'And . . .'

Corporal Scott Garnett put down his army emblem embossed coffee cup, and stared at Staff Sergeant Jack Reading who was waiting expectantly for a reply. They were alone in the Admin hut; a pile of mail stood expectantly on the Corporal's desk, and the sergeant had leaned back in his chair looking at Scott in anticipation. His chiseled features gave no hint as to his thoughts.

What a bloody shame he's gay. With that blond hair , blue eyes and great physical shape he'd be a magnet for chicks. I don't really understand about this ‘gay' thing; surely if'n he wants to shove his cock up a smelly shit-hole he'd be better off pluggin' some tarts pussy. Yuk! And all those titties he coulda been suckin' (sigh) Yeah, I just dunno.

The Admin building was much more than a simple hut; it contained an office for the Major in charge, a large anti-room for the Staff Sergeant and Scott, and a separate room for files, copying machines, faxes, coffee making, as well as a computer server. The entry door was placed beside the corporal's desk, which enabled Scott to screen persons entering. The Sergeant's desk was situated outside the office door. A worn blue carpet covered the floor whilst the walls were a pleasant green. Army insignia representative of all Australian army units, were placed around the walls giving the area a military atmosphere.

A strong masculine aroma pervaded the room, attesting to the fact that the staff were all males; because of the humidity and heat, the odour became more prominent as the day progressed

Outside could be heard the sound of soldiers drilling, a reminder that this was an army installation with a serious purpose.

Staff Sergeant Jack Reading was a man in his late 30's married to a great girl called Helen, but also married to the army. He was reasonably tall (about 180cm) with a strong chin and deep brown eyes; his black hair was close cropped as per army regulations. He exuded an air of self-confidence, but his cronies all agreed he was somewhat arrogant. Leaning back in his chair still, he patiently waited for Scott to respond.

'Staff, whilst I'm really disappointed , I'm not really surprised; we know that the bastard's a dinosaur and out-of-touch with modern reality. As you know, he still finds it hard to accept women in the army, let alone having females in combat roles. No, I'm not gonna lose sleep over the cunt; I'll jest keep a low profile in accordance with his ‘don’t ask- don't tell' crap. I've got plenty of good gay friends, and so far we've been able to keep a low profile without any agro; even so it's a bloody pity we have to live underground just because of that prick!'

'Yeah,(laughing) I don't know what I'd do without you; you give the best head I've ever had. (Chuckle) Anyway, you'd better get going on the mornin's mail, it don't get done by itself.'

'OK Staff, I hears ya.'

Scott ran his hand through his short blond hair and his blue eyes surveyed the pile of mail in front of him. Already the humidity was rising, and the old air conditioner was trying desperately to cool the air; it was losing the battle. As if on cue the Sergeant called,

'Can ya do sumfin' about this bloody heat corporal, already I'm starting to sweat; turn it up will ya.'

'Can't, it's already at maximum cool; why don't we just put in for a new air-conditioner Staff'.

'Bloody use that would be.'

Scott started on the day's mail, sorting into three piles; one for himself; one for the Staff, and one for the new Major whoever him maybe. As he was sorting through the mail, one form caught his eye; it was a 406 'Transfer of Personnel'. He scanned it briefly and (excitedly) beckoned to the Staff,

'Hey Staff, come and look at this . . .'

* * *

1.3

Lieutenant Mark Peters entered the Colonel's office and saluted the colonel.

'Sit, sit Lieutenant, umm . . . would you like some coffee before we. . . (Mark nodded affirmatively)'

Just then a buzzer sounded; the Colonel pressed a button and said,

'Yes Gloria?'

'Sir the Brigadier wants to talk to you, and he said it was important.'

'Umm OK, I'll take it; and Gloria, how about coffee for two. (turning to Mark) Sorry Lieutenant, I've got to take this call.'

With the Colonel pre-occupied, Mark looked around the office, and was struck by its sparseness. The only photo on the desk was of the colonel, and a good looking young boy - about 16 years - who was obviously his son; other than that the desk was clear. The green walls were bare, whereas surprisingly, the brown carpet was new but still maintained the illusion of frugality. He then took the time to study the man behind the desk.

Colonel Garth Stamins could have posed for an Army Recruiting poster. He was trim and radiated an air of authority with his grey buzz cut, and no facial hair. His chin protruded aggressively, and his hard grey eyes challenging. Mark had seen him in a rage, a rage that could be devastating to the recipient.

His conversation finished, the Colonel turned to Mark.

'I wanted to thank you for your support yesterday at the news conference (Mark went to interrupt but the Colonel stopped him) No, please let me continue. What you did showed resourcefulness as well as initiative. If you hadn't stepped in when you did the affair would have been a disaster, (it certainly was anyway thought Mark) making a difficult job even more so. (Pause) As you know . . .'

Just then the door opened and the secretary brought in two cups of steaming coffee. Each mug was emblazoned with the army's rising sun emblem on one side, and the regimental emblem on the other. After depositing the coffee, his secretary departed as noiselessly as she had entered.

The Colonel continued,

'As you know I'm not comfortable with the press, and prepared myself for a hostile reception. (The colonel then sipped his coffee which enabled Mark to interrupt.)

'Colonel, I thought it went rather well considering the issue involved. I didn't think that the overall response was too hostile; frankly I expected a harsher reception, as I'm sure you yourself did. (pause; he sipped his coffee and then replaced the mug on the desk)'

'Yes if it hadn't been those bitches and their mamby-pamby mind-set, it would have been much smoother; even so, I believe I got my message across. (Pause) Now I didn't call you here to discuss the press conference, I want to talk about your future. (Mark suddenly felt nervous) As you're aware, the second rifle company is without a commander and I'd like to put you in that spot. (Mark's heart started to pound at the Colonel words; he became confused) I'm aware that the position is usually given to a Major, and whilst I can't promote you to that rank right now, I'm immediately promoting you to Captain; what do you think?'

'I . . . I . . . I'm stunned Sir. I'm sure I don't deserve this; surely there are better qualified officers to take command. I'm just a lieutenant and commissioned only six years ago. I don't have the required background and training to undertake this role; that being said I'm also very flattered. Why . . .'

'Why? You're asking me why? One of the requirements of my job is to evaluate the personnel under my command. I see in you a young man with a strong character and remarkable common sense. No amount of training can produce a leader of men; it's either in your DNA or it's not. You have that magic quality Mark, of that I'm sure. Now just be a good chap and accept your promotion and new command. OK?'

'Umm yes sir . . . umm thank you sir, I'll do my best to uphold your confidence in me. I won't let you down sir - you have my word and my thanks. Umm, what can you tell me about the command?'

As he waited on the Colonel's response Mark drank some more coffee and sat back comfortably in his chair. He started to fell mildly elated at the promotion.

'Well from being here in HQ, you probably know just as much as I do. I will say that you have an excellent man in Sergeant Major Jack Reading. Like most Staff Sergeants he practically runs the company and its admin requirements. I've known Jack for many years; he's as close a friend as we're allowed to be - considering our rankings. At last roll-call the company consisted of 104 persons and the single function is training riflemen. That’s about it.'

'Thanks for that. I share your opinion of Staff Sergeant Reading, as does most of HQ staff; he's always prompt and disciplined when submitting reports. I won't trouble you any further sir; I assume you'd like me to take over ASAP?'

'Yes, but come see me in about a week's time, and let me have your thoughts and impressions.'

* * *

1.4

'So, we're getting a shave-tail[2] as our new leader. Hmm. . . I reckon I knows him from visiting Battalion HQ. Nice looking cove[3], only young but looks intelligent. Bet he's got a reputation with the ladies; you know, the bitches can't resist a young good lookin' officer. Then again, I was successful meself when I was fresh and randy. I had many sheilas droolin' over me cock, which you know is a real mouthful. (Sigh) If only. . .'

'Oh shut up Staff! I only service you because yer bloody wife is too sexless to do it for ya. So, he's young and good-looking is our new leader; bet he's got his head up his arse, and is a real conchie[4]. I knows the type. He's probably a mama's boy, gone to a private school, good family background, and is very career-minded. In a word, boring, boring, and boring. Bet he reckons his shit don't stink!'

'(Glaring at Scott) Stow it corporal, wait till he gets here before you make any judgements. He's our boss, and our duty is to advise and help him, not run him down; understand?'

Just then, the Sergeant's phone rang and he picked it up whilst still glaring at Scott.

'Reading here, (suddenly Scott saw the Sergeant stiffen and become very attentive as he listened to the caller) . . . Yes sir, we've just been informed . . . (pause as he listened) . . . I quite agree, that seems fine. What time do you want . . . (pause) Yes, yes sir, that works for me; I'll see you tomorrow then (pause) . . . and by the way, congratulation on your promotion . . . (pause) See you then Lieutenant. . . tomorrow.' And hung up.

All through this, Scott had become curious. Obviously, it was the new boss calling and he was anxious to hear the outcome. Then the Sergeant put the phone down and turned to Scott,

'That was out new boss Lieutenant Mark Peters; he's gonna meet me here early so's I can bring him up to date on the company status. No need for you to be there, but please make sure you're on time or even ahead of time tomorrow. Also, make sure the office is clean and tidy before you leave tonight.'

'No prob Staff; what's he sound like? Has he got a snooty accent? Did he talk down to ya like most officers do?'

'No, he talks quietly and sounds normal; don't go makin' any rush judgements before ya meets 'im. By lunchtime, tomorrow all yer questions gonna be answered. But for now, you know as much as I do. OH, before I forget, please have the current Readiness Report on me desk before you leave tonight.'

* * *

1.5

' . . . twenty-two . . . twenty-three . . . twenty-four, the cadence went on as the DI[5] called out the press-up sequence. Just in front of Scott a young soldier, wearing very short shorts, was displaying a succulent arse with sweat pooling in his bum crack. His thoughts were rambling,

Oh man look at that juicy bum-hole just waiting for my cock to sink itself all the way. No need for lubrication with all that sweat pooling around; god, what beautiful legs. I bet he's a runner or something like that; ya don't get legs like that for settin' around on yer arse all day. Hmm . . . must follow and see if he goes into the showers. (Sigh) I dunno what's wrong with me today, I'm feeling bloody randy like I haint got off since yesterday. . . OK, when PT's[6] over, I can get a better view of Mr Spunky . Wonder if I could get his name . . . nah, not a chance. Better concentrate on meeting the new boss now; I bet he's fat, ugly, and a bastard that goes by the book and makes life hell for the likes of' me.

This morning around 6:15 am, Scott had joined the company community for Physical Training. It was mandatory for all personnel to attend, and was held early before the heat of the day descended on the barracks. For a gay man, the PT was not only good for his body, but the eye-candy markedly improved his libido. Although he was in the presence of over 100 young men not all however were eye-candy candidates; some were just plain ugly, fat and repulsive. Thankfully there were enough spunkies[7] to perve on, and he always tried to place himself in a back corner so he could get a better eye-full.

This morning for some inexplicable reason he felt a tinge of anxiety. The coming day promised to be a scorcher; the wind was stirring up small dust swirls and the increasing humidity made breathing unpleasant. His mood improved somewhat when the DI called his favourite exercise , press-ups , which highlighted everyone's bums.

When the exercises were over, the object of his earlier fancies didn't head to the main shower block but took off towards the cadet area. Disappointed, he headed for the main shower unit to take a well-earned wash. He was just finishing drying himself when his gay friend Jason buddied up.

'Lookin' good Scott; ummm, noticed you was pervin' on that gorgeous hunk in the row front of you. Must say I wouldn't throw him outta my bed given half a chance. Did yer see the size of his trainers? Kept imagining how big . . .'

'Shut up Jason, you're a fine one to talk. I watched you the other day when you mentally raped that poor young recruit. If he knew what you were thinking he'd probably piss himself . . .'

'Or bend over and say please fuck me sir; I want your big cock up my virgin arse - please sir, pretty please.'

'(Laughing) In your dreams Corporal; reckon you needs t'get laid; when was the last . . .'

' WELL (loud and aggressive) lookie here, here's my two favourite poofters getting themselves all prettied up for me, eh? Which one of you lovelies is gonna give me a blow job eh?'

The owner of this voice was a rather tubby, freckled, obnoxious redhead named Corporal Bert Kreek. He was always aggressive and threatening - a schoolyard bully. Unfortunately he knew that both Jason and Scott were gay, and he took every opportunity to harass them. He was a living example of the problem with 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'; he could bully, menace and terrorize gay people without fear of retribution. He was an artist in the dark arts. Scott turned at the sound of his voice,

'Well hello Corporal, how long have they let you out for?'

Jason sniggered and laughed in Kreek's face, which made Kreek grow bright red with rage. Without warning he punched Jason hard in the guts. As Jason collapsed, Scott - momentarily taken aback, recovered and slammed into Kreek kneeing him in the balls, causing him to collapse in pain. In a few sparse seconds both Kreek and Jason were writhing on the cement floor.

'Get up Kreek, get up you slimy bastard; do me a favour and let me sink me fist into your repulsive face. C'mon get up shit-head; you're just a worthless piece of hetro scum, if you ever touch . . .'

Kreek recovered quickly and with a snarl attacked Scott; within moments both Kreek and Scott were into each other, punching, elbowing, gouging, and wrestling - with appropriate language. Of course the news of the fight spread like wildfire, and soon a ring of excited guys were shouting encouragement - mainly to Scott - until the noise level rose alarmingly. Then,

'WHAT'S GOING ON! . . . HEY, HEY BREAK IT UP. STOP IT, STOP FIGHTING! . . . YOU GUYS (turning to pick out two of the bigger bystanders) . . . HELP ME SEPARATE THESE IDIOTS!'

Just as he was preparing to elbow Kreek in the face, Scott felt two strong arms grab him and pull him off his nemesis. Soon he was standing upright being held firmly from behind and immobilized; he was high on adrenalin and panting from exertion. Looking around he saw that Kreek was also restrained. Then,

'Alright you two settle down and tell me what this's about; who swung the first punch?'

Out of the corner of his eye, Scott vaguely saw a youngish officer with his hands on hips scowling at both him and Kreek.

'(Still panting) Nothing sir, we were just having a little fun; (glaring fiercely at Kreek) weren't we Kreek?'

'Umm . . . yes sir, like he says, we were just letting off a little steam; nothing serious sir.'

'Nothing serious eh . . . (turning to the assembled crowd) any of you dickheads see who started the fight?'

When no one responded he addressed the group,

'As this was just a friendly stouch, I won't bother reporting to the MP's[8] but don't let me catch you fighting again - even if it's just a friendly stouch (the last with irony). And as for the rest of you, next time you see two of yer mates fighting - just friendly like - jump in and stop 'em; that's an order. Now you two . . . shake on it!'

Tentatively Scott and Bert Kreek shook hands still glaring at each other. The officer left, and the spectators dispersed as quickly as they'd gathered. Scott and Jason were left alone now.

'Shit Jason, check me out will ya; I can't go and meet my new boss looking like an alley cat after an adventurous night in the gutters; am I OK?'

'Yeah mate, you still look like a male model, none of yer pretty looks have been damaged. (laughing) On the other hand, the warrior aura suits you; you look damn sexy.'

'Piss off, I don't like flattery; or maybe yer after a quick fuck Eh?. If so, nuthin' doing, I've gotta go and meet my new leader, and I don't wanna be late; but thanks anyway.'

'Wrong idea, (laughing) wrong idea buddy boy. I wouldn't want to go near yer cock; it should be labelled a health hazard. Anyway, did you get a look at the officer that broke up the fight; he looked nice?'

'Nah I was too busy staring down Kreek. Me blood was up and I could only focus on that arsehole. Now piss off and let me get dressed. OH hey, you OK? The bastard gave you a hefty punch in the guts; yer feelin' OK?'

'Yeah I'm good. Hope your new boss is OK. See ya for lunch?'

'Yep, same place, same time.'

* * *

1.6

Scott, freshly clean and wearing his best uniform, entered the staff room, and set about culling the day's mail. The door to the office was shut and he could vaguely hear voices coming from within. His thoughts were rambling,

Guess Staff is bringing the new officer up to date on the company's readiness. Man why do we get such junk mail each day, all I ever do is chuck it in the waste paper bin. Such a waste of my time and paper. Wait, now that's interesting - a notice on impending joint manoeuvres between our barracks and the Yanks over at Robertson Barracks, to be held in 5 weeks. Umm bet Staff and the . . .

At that moment the office door opened and the Sarg pocked his head out.

'Hey corporal, can you come in please, I want you to meet our new boss.'

Scott got up from his desk and entered the office proper. He came to a standstill in front of the desk and saluted the officer.

'Captain, this is our corporal Scott Garnett. Scott meet Captain Mark Peters.'

It was then that Scott was able to observe the Captain who, now standing to return the salute, extended his hand for Scott to clasp.

He gasped; by any standard, Mark Peters was a very handsome man. A mass of thick wavy brown curls sat atop his tanned face; his brown - no black - eyes sparkled with laughter; his smile was lop-sided and opened a corner of his mouth showing gleaming white teeth. Adding to his overall masculinity, he allowed fashionable stubble to grow over the bottom half of his face. Scott could tell from the way he carried himself that he had a superb body beneath his officer's uniform. The forearm gripping Scott's arm was tanned , muscled, and strong. Every pore of the Captains being exuded masculinity.

He was the most beautiful man Scott had ever seen.

Suddenly Scott's brain seethed with a mixture of endorphins, adrenaline, and dopamine, causing abrupt and alarming physical reactions. Without warning his heartbeat increased and his palms became sweaty. The Dopamine flooding through his brain gave him a feeling of euphoria. Next came hot flushes that seemed to set his whole body on fire.

Scott had fallen in love; it was love at first sight.

He became flustered and felt weak at the knees. Desperately wanting to sit down, he had to wait for the Captain's invitation. He tried to mask being uncomfortable but he was losing the battle. Then GOD spoke,

(In a rich baritone voice)'Well I see you've recovered from your friendly brawl this morning corporal; I hope there aren’t any problems physically. I must say you roughed the other guy up impressively.'

'(The Sergeant) what's going on? (Looking at Scott) What brawl is the Captain talking about? Care to fill me in.'

OH shit! I can't speak without stammering; the captain will think I'm a dunce.

'Staff . . . ummm . . . I . . . I . . . I got into a fight with . . . with . . . Corporal Bert Kreek. . .'

'Kreek! Ya got into a fight with that lazy bastard? Who started it? C'mon, I want to know the whole details.'

'Staff, it weren't my fault; well, I don't think so. Y'see I said something to Kreek and Corporal Jason Meadows laughed at 'im, so the bastard punched him in the guts. Well, I sorta replied by hitting Kreek in the balls; he then tackled me and . . .'

'(the Captain) so that's what happened; why didn't you tell me this morning? I hate unnecessary aggression. As you tell it, it was . . . Kreek? . . . yes Kreek who threw the first punch. I'll take it up with his superior and have him warned off.'

'No sir (rushing) no sir, I don't think that's necessary. . .'

The sergeant went on to explain to the captain why he didn't think it a good idea, leaving Scott alone with his thoughts .

Every time he moves or even blinks I get a little crazy. Look at the way he's leaning back in his chair listening to what the Sarg has to say. I can just imagine how his stomach muscles tense up and become a beautiful six-pack. Look at his big thighs; even through his uniform material, I can sense muscles bulging. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit . . . what's come over me? Look at his beautiful face; the way the strong sweep of his chin makes him look like a fighter. And his voice . . . the peculiar baritone timbre goes right through me. And his smell . . . an aroma of pine trees and something else I just can't quite recognize; it's a heady masculine fragrance that excites me. And his eyes . . . they seem to change colour from brown to black; they simply look into my soul. I'm getting hard.

The sergeant and the captain finished their conversation and the captain turned to Scott,

'Well corporal, you seem bodily OK, and from what I saw, you seemed able to defend yourself. You look in good physical condition.'

'Yes sir, I've actually had some martial arts training and I exercise regularly. In fact I was just finishing showering when the incident happened.'

'Ok, OK, I won't pursue the matter but if there's any more trouble with this Kreek, I want you to tell me. It's been my experience that people like this Kreek will keep making trouble until someone higher up carpets him. Anyway, what made you his enemy in the first place?'

'Umm, I'd rather not say sir; it's a personal issue.'

Two dark brown - black eyes bored into Scott, and he became uncomfortable.

'Umm personal you say . . . hmm . . . well when you want to tell me just come and see me. Now I've got work to do, so I'll let you both get on with the company's affairs.'

* * *

1.7

Back at his desk, Scott sat mulling over what had happened. He was confused by his physical and emotional reaction to the Captain; he'd never experienced anything akin to that before. He also knew that his feelings were deeper than pure sex,

The moment I looked at him my body reacted oddly and inexplicably. I've never felt my heartbeat soar so suddenly and without any physical cause. I don't understand what's happening; I don't understand why I felt so tongue-tied. I don’t understand why I felt so insecure. I don't understand why I broke out into sweaty palms and body flushes. I don't understand why, when he looked at me, I felt thrilled. But I do understand that something magical happened to me; I'll never forget the electricity that swamped me when I shook the hand that was attached to his muscled brown forearm. Shit . . . I'm a bloody mess. (Pause), (feeling depressed). But where am I going with this. The army has strict rules about fraternizing; he's an officer dickhead . . . an officer and you're just an enlisted serviceman and most certainly he's straight. Even being friends is out of the question. He must act professionally, and only have an arms-length relationship with any enlisted personnel.

But shit, I reckon I love him. I’m not sure what scares me more, that he will never start loving me, or that I will never stop loving him.

[1] Honorific used to refer to Staff Sergeant in charge of company office

[2] Army slang for a lieutenant

[3] Aussie slang for a male

[4] Slang for a person who's overly correct in applying rules.

[5] Drill Instructor

[6] Physical Training

[7] Aussie slang for good looking guy

[8] Military Police