*****
In the morning, after everyone enjoyed the third or fourth hot shower they’d taken since their arrival, a runner came by to let them know someone would be there in thirty minutes and to have their gear ready to go. By this time, Brock was getting a little fed up with the cloak and dagger routine. He had his entire rant worked out in his head when a staff car pulled up and an older officer headed toward the front door to their barracks, flanked by four other men.
Brock recognized the insignia on the officer and called the barracks to attention. The brigadier general waved them all to “at ease” and then waited while the other men joined them in the barracks. When everything was ready, the general moved to the center of the room and motioned for the others to come closer.
“I’m sorry for the secrecy, men, but we couldn’t take any chances in your orders falling into the wrong hands before you arrived. I’m Brigadier Williams-Ellis and while we’ve ordered you to come to Darwin, where you go from here will be completely of your own choosing.”
“Begging the general’s pardon, but I don’t follow, Sir.”
“Completely understood, Captain. I’m being cryptic and there’s a reason for that. Now, what we’re going to tell you is completely classified. At the end of this briefing, you will be given a choice and whatever decision you make can be made with no repercussions. However, none of you may ever speak about what we discuss here until you are given permission. Do we understand each other?”
There was a chorus of consent and then the brigadier continued. “We’ve had a request from the Allied command in the Southwest Pacific to create a special unit. Lieutenant Howard there would recognize it because it’s going to be based on the Special Operations Executive model. Think of it as Special Operations Australia. Your group and some other groups like yours have been selected to attend commando training like none you’ve ever gone through. When you are ready, we plan on turning you loose behind Japanese lines and letting you wreak a little havoc on them.”
The brigadier paused, scanning the faces of the assembled men. “I can guarantee you the best training and the best equipment we have. However, what I cannot guarantee is the survival of a single man in this room. Some of you may be killed during training. Most of you will probably be killed in action. You’re almost assuredly going to be short of equipment, short of supplies, and long on enemy wherever you go. Still, I can guarantee you’ll be a part of something bigger than anything you’ll encounter back in a line unit. So there it is. If anyone wants to be returned to their own forces for those of you who aren’t Australian, we’ll do our best to accommodate you. The others will be up for reassignment. So, what do you say, gentlemen?”
Brock looked around the room and then back at the Brigadier. “I can’t speak for the men, sir, but if this gives me a chance to take the fight to the Japanese, then sign me up. I’m tired of being on the defensive. It’s time they had to look over their shoulders for a change.”
The others spoke up in agreement and even the usually dour Dutchman let a ghost of a smile flicker on his face when he said, “Yes.”
The brigadier looked around the room before shaking hands with everyone. “Well, gentlemen, welcome to Z Special Unit. Your training starts next week. We’ll take care of issuing the orders and coordinating with the other allied commands to transfer all of you to our command. There’s a plane leaving for Sydney at noon today. Enjoy some leave and get ready to work harder than you ever have in your life. We’ll see you in Melbourne in a few months.”
The brigadier and his men disappeared and the men began talking excitedly. While most of the men were more interested in leave in Sydney, Terry came over and spoke to Brock. “You know what you and the others have gotten yourselves in for, don’t you?”
“Mostly, yeah, but I’m sure they’re going to throw some things at us we’ve never seen before.”
“Oh, I can vouch for that, Yank. I suspect we’re going to see things that make Timor look like a walk across Piccadilly Circus, but then again, I signed up right along with you and I’ve already been through SOE training. I wonder what these chaps have in mind for us?”
“Terry, don’t borrow trouble from the future. Hell, if you had asked me two weeks ago if we’d have even made it off of Timor, I’d have put money against it. We’ve got seven days leave in Sydney coming before we have to start worrying. Let’s go have some fun and relax for a bit.”
Terry went over to his pack and pulled out a small metal flask. “I’d been saving this for a special occasion. Care to join me?”
The smell of scotch caught Brock’s attention and he smiled broadly at his friend. “After you, my good man. After you.”
You have just finished reading
FLASHPOINT
by Richard White
This story is part of the Single Shots Signature Series.
Edited by Tommy Hancock
Editor in Chief, Pro Se Productions-Tommy Hancock
Director of Corporate Operations-Morgan McKay
Publisher & Pro Se Productions, LLC-Chief Executive Officer-Fuller Bumpers
Cover Art by Larry Nadolsky
E-book Design by Russ Anderson
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