Instantly, the men pricked up. ‘’bout bloody time,’ said Marks.
‘Shut your pie-holes for five minutes and I’ll give you the good news. General Stephens and his crew have come up with a plan that I reckon could work. Now, we’re here.’ Higgins pointed to a spot on the map displayed on his roll-out plastic computer screen. The spot was about a hundred kilometres southeast of Alice Springs.
‘The convoy is now going to hang a sharp right and head due north from here, running parallel to the Ghan railway line, which the enemy is using to transport resources to the ports in the north. As you well know, the Chinese have been watching us pretty closely with their satellites. Right about now they are probably flapping about wondering what a convoy this size is doing so far from home. And flap they fucking well should!’ The men sniggered and laughed at this, but it was tainted with the tone of uncertainty. There were too many unknowns for them to be totally confident just yet.
‘And here’s where it gets fun. Each morning starting today, the convoy will head off as it normally does, but now, four squads will be left behind at each camp. Each squad’s truck will leave with the convoy as normal so as not to arouse suspicion. Before daybreak, the assigned squads being deployed will get under a thermal tent that will hide the heat signature until the convoy is long gone and the satellite has passed. Each squad will then head by foot to its assigned base camp where rations, ammo and other supplies have been arranged. From this base, we will be conducting tactical strikes on the Chinese transportation and military infrastructure. This is it, boys.’
There were back-slaps and shouts from the squad. This was the best news they had received since setting out. Finally, it all seemed worthwhile. There was a plan, they were heading into action and they were the ones on the offensive. The atmosphere crackled and Finn could taste the adrenalin. ‘Game on, boys!’ he yelled, to more backslapping and cheering.
Chapter 9
In Canberra, the control centre of the SOF was a hive of activity. Gathered in the conference room were the heads of military operations. Entering the conference room, Fletcher, Adams and the general sat down with little fanfare. Sarah Dempsey walked to the lectern.
‘Good morning, everyone,’ she began, looking around the room, ‘today I’ll be taking you through our strategy for obstructing and ultimately defeating the Chinese and their illegal mining and exportation of Australia’s mineral deposits.’
The briefing went for over two hours, with many questions. Sarah was unflappable and had a response for every question. Drawing the briefing to an end, she summarised the strategy. ‘There will be a series of ongoing, coordinated guerrilla attacks on the Chinese transport infrastructure from South Australia to the Gulf of Carpentaria. The aim of these attacks is to destabilise their transport to the point where it becomes economically unviable for China to continue.’ She closed her briefing notes, signifying the end of the presentation.
The room was quiet, which unnerved General Stephens slightly. But looking around, he could see the faces of people who were satisfied, nodding in agreement.
General Stephens leaned forward on the table. ‘Thank you, Sarah. Essentially, people, our view is that our goals can only be attained through a carefully orchestrated, ongoing guerrilla operation. Make no mistake; this will be a war of attrition.’
Standing now, supporting his weight against the table on clenched fists, eyes boring into everyone in the room, General Stephens continued. ‘The end goal is simple — get the Chinese out, reclaim our land, regain control of our mines and take back this country’s freedom!’
The room erupted in applause, there were fists banging on the table, heads nodding, shouts of approval — the testosterone in the room was palpable. The air felt heavy and stale, but charged and energised at the same time. The meeting dissolved into motions of congratulations and backslapping. Small groups broke away to discuss the plans. The general was relieved. Sarah had done a brilliant job of presenting the strategy — and it looked like everyone was onboard.
Alone in his office after the briefing, Stephens felt tired. The adrenalin kick never seemed to last long nowadays. He slumped back on his leather couch putting a hand to his head, rubbing his brow, the light from the fireplace throwing the crags in his face into sharp relief. All he could do right now was breathe and just try to relax his exhausted mind and body. He really wished he could just go to sleep for 24 hours, but right now that was not an option. This was the point where all the planning of the past few months would be put into action. This was the point that mattered. All the planning in the world meant nothing if the execution of the plan failed.
There was a knock at the door and Fletcher opened it enough to poke his head through. ‘You all right?’ he asked.
‘Come in,’ Stephens said, raising his head just enough to look at Fletcher, ‘I’m just starting to understand how Hudson must have felt.’
‘Come on, Marty — you’re not incompetent. How could you possibly feel like Hudson?’ replied Fletcher with a short laugh.
General Stephens was too tired to reply with anything more than a wry smile. ‘Give it a few more days and we’ll see.’
‘You’ll be fine. And just remember — without you, Hudson would have had us all digging the mines for the bloody Chinese by now.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Stephens replied, face serious again, ‘we’re a long way from getting the Chinese out of here yet. This is going to be a long campaign, one that we may never win.’
Fletcher sat down opposite the general. ‘Maybe, but we can’t underestimate the resolve of the Australian people.’
Stephens leaned forward, elbows on his knees. ‘I know what we’re doing is right, but I can’t help thinking that perhaps it’s all futile, and that perhaps we should just be playing the diplomatic card and negotiating our way out of this mess.’
‘Bullshit. This is the right approach — the only approach. We’re doing the right thing here, Marty,’ Fletcher said, trying hard to make Stephens look him in the eye.
Silence. General Stephens was in no mood for debating the rights or wrongs of their actions. Besides, it was too late now. The plan had been set in motion, the cogs were turning and there was no going back.
‘Why don’t you go and rest for a couple of hours?’ Fletcher suggested. ‘You haven’t slept in over 24 hours. Sarah and I have got this covered. There’s not a lot more you can do right now.’
‘Yeah, maybe you’re right,’ General Stephens stood slowly, rubbing his head, which started pounding as soon as he stood. ‘Wake me in two hours?’
Fletch stood as well. ‘Sure thing.’
‘I mean it, Fletch. Two hours,’ Stephens said, looking sternly at Fletcher.
‘I got it. Now bugger off and get some sleep,’ replied Fletcher.
‘Oh, and remind me when I wake up,’ Stephens said, turning at the door, ‘we need to arrange a meeting with Draven. He’s been pestering me for documentation about our leadership. He wants it in writing that we’ll cede leadership and return to a democracy as soon as a certain set of conditions, to be agreed upon, are met.’
Fletcher chuckled. ‘He is a stickler, isn’t he? I’ll see what I can do.’
After General Stephens had left, Fletcher went over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large Glenfiddich with a splash of water, no ice, sighing heavily as he walked back to the couch. At least Hudson had the decency to leave his liquor cabinet fully stocked, he thought to himself.
Sarah knocked once on the door and walked in, smiling broadly. ‘That seemed to go well, don’t you think, Fletch? Where’s the general?’