Dead in the middle of the trunk a movement in front of him caught Finn’s eye. Higgins had spun around to face Finn and was looking menacingly back at him. Finn watched as Higgins unhooked his rucksack and threw it back on the opposite bank, not once taking his eyes off Finn. The others in the squad knew what was coming and stayed off the trunk, grinning and nudging each other with glee.
Finn followed suit and unclipped his rucksack, fumbling with the clips and nearly losing his balance. His nerves suddenly raw, he felt certain his heart would burst through his chest at any moment.
‘Come on then, Hunt. Remember your reserves training? Speed and aggression,’ snarled Higgins.
Speed and aggression — how many times had that been drilled into him as a young reservist? he wondered. They were the two things every soldier is taught first and it sums up how a soldier should react to every situation in the field — though Finn wasn’t convinced it was always the best response.
Not saying a word, Finn concentrated on Higgins. Getting his left foot forward he pointed it at Higgins, his right foot back, his body crouching low, centred and ready.
Higgins was quick for a big man. He shuffled his feet quickly forward, jabbing his right fist at Finn, who instinctively moved back fast and into the arms of the other men, who pushed him back out on the trunk.
The yelling and cheering intensified. The others were like a pack of wild dogs with a blood lust. Taking a quick look down at the gully below, Finn decided that landing down there was not going to be a good outcome.
Finn knew he didn’t have a chance if he let Higgins come at him like that again, so he decided to employ the age-old wisdom that the best defence is a good offence. Moving out slowly, Finn waited until the exact split-second before he thought Higgins would attack. Rather than launching his upper body at him — which would undoubtedly have landed them both on the gully floor — Finn dropped his torso down and backwards while kicking out his leg, swiping at Higgins’ shin. It was enough to surprise Higgins, catching him off guard and sending him off the trunk and into the muddy gully.
Finn ended up straddling the trunk, having lost his balance with his kick. The others were laughing themselves stupid. In the mud, Higgins was trying to catch his breath, the fall having knocked the wind out of his lungs. Covered in mud, he finally got to his feet and was forced to smile and congratulate Finn. ‘You got lucky, Hunt. Don’t let it go to your head. That won’t happen again.’
‘No, sir,’ replied Finn, forcing himself to control his face and get the smirk off it.
McCaw, a huge guy nearly as scary and experienced as Higgins, and so taciturn Finn had never even heard him speak, helped Finn up. ‘Good job, recruit,’ he said, slapping Finn on the back.
About halfway through their training, Finn and the other squadies were opening large metal weapons cases in one of the vast munitions tents. The tents were enormous, covering four football fields’ worth of space. They were air-conditioned, had solid flooring and bright lighting.
Pulling out a black assault rifle, Finn admired the feel of the weapon. It was big and solid in his hands, but incredibly light.
‘What are these all about?’ he asked the others.
‘Dude, these are Archer RG-25s, outrageous killing machines,’ said Carver, a young recruit who had been in training when the Chinese invaded but had not been sent out to fight.
‘RG stands for Rail Gun. These guys are electromagnetic. They fire a kinetic 4.5 mm ball bearing munition at a muzzle velocity of 3500 metres per second, and all this with no recoil,’ said Marks, a veteran with 10 years of military experience. He’d been injured in the initial fight with the Chinese, but was back to full fighting strength now, after his training with the squad. Finn got the sense that, while Marks was not exactly a genius, he was strong, observant and focussed — the kind of guy you’d be glad to have watching your back.
‘And when things get really hairy, you can lob a grenade in over the line with this.’ Jessop flipped his RG-25 on its side to show Finn the launcher. Jessop had only been in training a few weeks longer than Finn, but he was a farm boy who’d grown up with a gun by his side — he had an uncanny sense for them.
‘Do we get these?’ asked Finn.
At that moment Higgins walked into the room. ‘Are you pussies still unloading this lot? Get a fucking move on. Hunt, quit masturbating that RG and get it unloaded.’
‘Yessir,’ snapped Finn, quickly focussing on unloading the case.
Higgins went back outside and started barking orders at some other poor bastards.
‘So how the hell do we get these things? I figured we’d be firing some old M-21s,’ said Finn.
‘Hunt, you are so green it’s not funny. Who do you think has lost the most here? And who has the most to gain by getting the Chinese out?’ asked Carver.
‘Everyone in Australia,’ replied Finn.
‘Bullshit. The people who have lost the most are the mining companies. They also have the most to gain by kicking the Chinks out,’ Jessop piped up, enjoying not being the greenest guy around anymore.
‘What, so the mining companies are bankrolling us?’ asked Finn.
‘Damn right. Right down to the army-issue boxer shorts you’re wearing there.’
‘Fuck me,’ said Finn to himself.
It hadn’t occurred to Finn that the huge mining companies, like IXR and BHR, were funding all of this. Many of the smaller Australian mining companies had gone bankrupt as soon as China stepped foot in Australia. Most of the other larger companies had come very close, but had managed to hold on, relying on their diversified overseas holdings to see them through.
The big mining companies also had their own private armies. It was a trend that started early in the century, in the Middle East. The companies knew all too well the volatile nature of mining in countries that have so much poverty. Though they couldn’t afford to pull their corporate armies out of the Middle East and North America, they could afford to fund and arm Australia’s new army. It was so obviously in their interests that Finn felt stupid for not realising it sooner.
The days became a blur of intense physical training, mental discipline, eating and sleeping. While Finn knew that technically he would be in for training for three months, it felt like he had no idea how long he had been in training for — it could have been a month, it could have been six. The training was designed to educate them on specific skills required for the sorts of missions they were likely to conduct. They were effectively being trained to be the best terrorists in the world, to learn and apply the principles of terrorism and guerrilla warfare for the most devastating effect.
Through the training process Finn’s mind was rewired by the drill instructors, by Higgins, by the constant haranguing and abuse. Mindlessly repeating drill after drill after drill, exercise after exercise. There was no defined point at which he noticed a change in himself — it was a far more organic process that evolved over the three months of training. It wasn’t until the end of their training that he realised how much he had changed. Physically, he was fitter and stronger than he had ever been.
His training had been extensive and beyond what was normally asked of new recruits. The war that would be fought over Australia would be like none the world had seen. The soldiers that fought the war would be like none the world had seen. Finn now had a confidence that he had never had before, a feeling that no matter what situation he was presented with, he could deal with it. He had always been an outwardly confident person but he now realised that it had been based on very little substance. He could see it now — he could see what a boy he had been before the training, how naive he had been.