Chapter Eight
by Technomad
We pored over our maps, figuring out the best routes to take in and out. We wanted to do the most damage in the least time we possibly could. Of course, there were always places where things could go sour, but that was one of the conditions of life we'd accepted when we chose to stay in the bush and fight, and, again, when we came back from Kiwiland.
Thinking of Kiwiland made me remember Colonel Finley. We hadn't talked with him about this little plan. For one thing, he was a long way away and couldn't help us. For two things, what we didn't say on the air, the other side couldn't intercept. So far, as far as we knew, our communications were secure, but there was always the chance that the enemy had figured out what frequencies we used, and had someone always listening, on the chance that we might say something that would help them pinpoint our location and send in troops before we could get away. That was something that our instructors had hammered into us in New Zealand.
Every day, I found reasons to bless the men and women who'd so patiently instructed us in the skills we needed to become really effective. If they'd had the chance to teach us before the invasion, I thought that Corrie, Chris and Robyn might have had a better chance to live.
The third reason we didn't call New Zealand was one we didn't speak of out loud, but that we all knew. If we managed to lay our hands on the gold stash, and get it safely out of Monmouth, as far as we were concerned, that gold was ours, and ours alone. We didn't fancy being told we had to give it back, no matter who had lost it. We'd picked up on the phrase "spoils of war," and "make war feed war." I, for one, could think of all sorts of things I could do with ten million or so dollars.
When I was on guard, I'd sit and look out over the landscape, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of enemy activity, or any sign that they'd twigged to where we were…while part of my mind was figuring out just what to do with all that lovely money. I could finish paying off the loans my Dad had on the station; he was always worrying about that sort of thing, and being able to step in and make sure that our operation was debt-free would do a lot to take that burden off his back. A lot of his temper, I thought, was from worrying about debts.
I could travel, as well. I'd always wanted to see the world, and even without Corrie by my side, as I'd always planned it…and her loss was still an aching hole in my life...I could go, and see it for both of us. And I could go to uni, and study what I wanted, and make myself anything I wanted to be.
We mostly didn't speak of such things, even among ourselves. However, Fi and I did have a few talks about it, in the long watches of the night when the guys were elsewhere.
"Travel sounds wonderful, Ellie," Fi said, smiling at me in the dim light that was all we allowed ourselves at night; the dimmer the light, the less trouble we had adjusting to night. Light that was too bright ruined our night vision, and was a lot likelier to be spotted at a distance. "I've always wanted to see Europe, and America."
I smiled at her. I could just see her in Paris, London or New York. She'd love visiting places with so much history and culture. While we both loved Australia, there were things it lacked.
But then Fi went on: "I'd want to use a lot of my share of the money helping people who've been hurt by the war. We may have had it tough, but I bet there's people who've lost everything. I'd not feel right if I just lolled around being rich while they suffered."
I was glad of the dim light. I was blushing with shame. When she put it that way, keeping all the loot for myself did sound horribly selfish. I felt like a real swine. Yes, I'd suffered…Stratton Prison, and endless months out in the bush…but as far as I knew, my father and mother were alive. Compared with many people, I was very fortunate.
"Maybe we should use some of the money to set up a fund for people who need help because of the war, Fi," I said. "We could name it after our friends who've not made it. That way, people would remember them." I thought of Corrie, and felt a stab of pain in my soul again. "And I don't want them ever to be forgotten."
"That's a wonderful idea, Ellie!" Fi reached over and hugged me. "People should know their stories!" When the boys came in, we told them about our idea, and they liked it, too.
We had finally come up with a plan that looked workable. All we needed was a nice stormy night, so that as few of the enemy would be inclined to be out and about. Unfortunately, from what we could tell, the weather was going to be clear for a week or so.
Since we didn't want to strike without weather covering us, we decided to improve the shining hour in other ways. We headed back to Hell on dirt bikes one night, to cut down on the chance that the enemy might pick up on clues that we were in the Monmouth area. Hiding the bikes at the top of Tailor's Stitch, we took our familiar path down into Hell, and soon we were relaxing in our dear familiar tents. Hell had become our home, as much as we could be said to have homes any more.
The Kiwis had left good supplies of explosives and tools, and we stocked up heavily, dragging the stuff to the top of the path in several loads. Our plans required us to have a good supply of explosives, and there were several other things we needed to give Monmouth the surprises we'd worked out.
As we looked over the explosives, I saw a dangerous gleam in Homer's eye, and shuddered to myself. Only a national emergency on the level of an invasion would make me trust Homer Yannos, of all people, with high explosives!
The sight of the automatic mortar and shells gave Lee a wonderful idea for how we could cover our activities, over-and-above depending on rain. "Mortars are easy to use," he reminded us, "and this one can be set to fire automatically at a pre-set time, which'll be very useful!"
We used up a dozen shells of the fifty we had, sighting the thing in so that we knew what range it would shoot to at any given setting, as well as making sure that the automatic settings were working. For that, we went down into Hell; lugging those heavy explosive shells down there was a pain and a half, but we didn't dare do it out in the open anywhere else, for fear of being spotted and reported. Hell's walls would absorb the report of the shells, and nobody else but us was down there.
Once we had the mortar figured out (it wasn't terribly different from the ones we'd trained on in Kiwiland, but familiarisation is always a good thing with new weapons) all that was left was to wait. Wouldn't you just bloody know it, the sun picked that particular time to come…instead of rains, we had day after day of clear weather.
Holed up in our hidey-holes, the tension began wearing on us. All of us got more and more snappish and bad-tempered, and we picked at each other in nasty ways, just for something to do. At one point, we were so quarrelsome that nobody was speaking to anybody else.
It was at times like that that I really, really missed Robyn. Robyn was always able to smooth things over, to make people who were quarrelling realise just how much their friendship really meant, to show them how silly they were being.
After a long session of "I-miss-Robyn," I just squared my shoulders and went into action. Asking myself "How would Robyn handle this situation?" I set to work, smoothing everybody's ruffled feathers and trying to patch up all of our silly quarrels. In the process, I apologised to Lee and Homer separately, Lee for my snapping at him when he worried out loud about his younger siblings once too often, and Homer, for calling him a chauvinistic jerk and all-'round creep. To my surprise, they both apologised to me. Lee said he had been jittery about his little brothers and sisters, but that wasn't an excuse for taking it out on the rest of us, and Homer…well, Homer just said that he might have to re-think some of the Greek attitudes he'd picked up from his father. When Fi heard that, she gave Homer a look that told me that when they had some privacy, he was in for a wonderful surprise.
Finally, we got the weather we'd been wanting. The sky had been cloudy all day, and rain clouds rolled in toward the evening. By the time it was full dark, the rain was pouring down, so we decided that it was "go" time. On foot, we headed out toward Monmouth.
END Chapter 08