Expatriates: A Novel of the Coming Global Collapse

33 DISPATCHED

Caleb Burroughs was summoned to the colonel’s office with vague word that he needed information about a forward logistics base. As he donned his hat, Caleb muttered to himself, “An FLB? What FLB?” He arrived at the brigade headquarters office to find Colonel Jack Reynolds poring over several maps that he’d spread over his desk. Reynolds, a balding man with a bristly mustache, was known for his informality. He waved Caleb in without giving him time for a salute. “Burroughs, I know you were reared around Darwin, so I’d like your advice for some FLBs for Task Force Dingo. We’ve been tasked with replacing the lost assets of the 1st CSSB at Robertson Barracks, just south of Darwin.” He gestured to the topmost Geoscience Australia 250K Series topographic map.

Slightly puzzled, Caleb approached the desk hesitantly and Reynolds said, “No need to be nervous. We haven’t had any direct dealings, but you’ve come very well recommended by the staff. I’ve been told that you know the bush and you’ve got common sense. You also seem to be a good judge of character. For example, I heard that you carefully kept your distance from Captain Eggers back when he was one of the most popular men in the officer’s mess. That is, before his muck-up and fall from grace. That alone tells me a lot about you.”

Reynolds looked back down at the maps and said, “We have plenty of time, so just begin at the beginning. It may sound odd, but honestly I’ve never been up the Top End. So brief me as if I’m tabula rasa on the Northern Territory. I suppose you should start with the climate first.”

Caleb cleared his throat and said, “Sir, the dry season of course comes in winter, usually between May and October. The wet season up at the Top End is in the summer, from November to March. In a really wet year, we can get up to one-point-two meters of rain. People really can’t appreciate that figure until they’ve seen it firsthand. Back in 2011, we had eighty-nine full-on rain days, which was a record breaker. Not much gets accomplished out in the bush during the worst of it. The roads simply become impassible—that is, any of the unsealed earth roads that haven’t been paved or graveled. Therefore, in the summer much of the Northern Territory becomes classic ‘slow go’ or even ‘no go’ terrain, as the Plans and Operations folks call it. We call the humid period between the dry and wet seasons the buildup. People tend to get tense during the buildup, waiting for the first rains to come. When the rains do come, it is a relief since it cools off a bit.”

Reynolds nodded, and Caleb continued. “The real wild cards are the tropical cyclones, which can’t be predicted other than arriving in a general season, which runs from November to April. I was there for Cyclone Monica, back in April of ’06. That was a bad one, still a Category 2 cyclone when it went through Darwin. Then there was Helen in January of 2008, and it tracked around just south of Darwin for five days. Helen wasn’t quite so intense, but it was still quite a mess. More rain than you can imagine.”

After a pause he continued. “The climate is tropical, so the humidity plays hell with any stores. The humidity is always fairly high, but it gets insanely high for part of each year. Corrosion of metal and mildewing of canvas is a constant struggle. Silica gel and grease are our friends. The Army will have to busy itself like the Navy, just to keep pace. Lots of wire brushing and spot painting—that sort of thing. Cardboard boxes get soft and rot. Tinned foods get rusty. So I’ll have to coach the troops on the local tricks like lacquer-painting tins and how to dip boxes and cans in melted paraffin.”

Reynolds nodded. “What else will we be facing?”

“Well, then there are the spiders and snakes. There are half a dozen varieties of snakes up there that are deadly. Some of our soldiers that grew up in the big cities will need some coaching. They don’t even understand the importance of shaking out their boots in the morning. We’ll have to remedy that, straight away.”

Caleb gestured to the map and continued. “The terrain is varied and the vegetation runs the gamut from saltwater swamps to dense jungle—that’s also called closed forest canopy—to open forest, to some scrublands. Some of the steep jungle country is practically impenetrable. But a lot of the better land has been cleared and put to use for cattle stations.”

“What about the people and the economy?”

“Well, the economy is relatively weak. The standing joke is, ‘The Top End is just another Third World country, only with better roads.’ I can honestly say that the Northern Territory was an interesting place to grow up. It is hard to describe, but personalities seem more amplified up there. There are some world-class eccentrics. But by and large, the people are hardworking, neighborly, and self-sufficient, especially the farther you get out of town. The old Australia is still alive and well up there.”

Putting on a slight lecturing tone, Reynolds said, “What we have before us is an unprecedented situation, Caleb. The distances are vast, and our numbers are going to be mismatched against the Indos. Because of the great distances involved, there will be considerable delay in moving our forces to react to any Indonesian landings. Our problem is that they can pick anywhere they’d like along two thousand miles of coast to make their move. For small garrisons there, it might turn out to be a classic ‘hold until relieved’ scenario. But that naturally is suboptimal. What are your thoughts?”

“Well, sir, rather than having this turn out to be another Rorke’s Drift or, God forbid, Gallipoli, I think the best thing for us is to keep the Indos guessing. We can use the heavy vegetation to our advantage to conceal our locations. I’d much rather try to keep them in a muddle, guerilla style, than face them in a set-piece fight.”

The colonel nodded and said, “That’s it, precisely. I’ve heard that you’re keen on military history. Tell me, have you read much about T. E. Lawrence in the First World War, or David Stirling in the Second?”

“Yes, I’ve read Seven Pillars of Wisdom and as much as I could find about the early days of the SAS. And I’d say that I’m fairly well read about North Africa in World War Two. Fascinating stuff, sir.”

The corners of Reynolds’s mouth turned up as he responded, “The 1st CSSB, as you know, had been at Robertson Barracks in Darwin since the late 1990s. Soon after, they got warned out in support of the 3rd Brigade’s deployment to East Timor. After that, they got comfortably settled back into Robertson Barracks, but then just before the Crunch, they got deployed again even more heavily to Papua New Guinea. Communications have been spotty, but as near as we can tell, they were obliterated there by the Indos.”

The colonel paused to let that sink in. “So we’ve been tasked to take over their loggy role in that region, covering about two hundred fifty miles of the northern coast.”

Burroughs nodded. “I see.”

The colonel went on. “But we don’t want to make the mistake of just taking up their old digs and carrying on in a quasi-peacetime mode. That would be a huge blunder. We’d be sitting ducks in range of naval gunfire. Instead, we’ll use Robertson Barracks only temporarily for staging. Everything should be hidden, out in the bush. I want you to go up there and select three widely separated FLBs. Each of them will be like a brigade maintenance area, and they’ll have the same functions as a standard BMA, but the military staffing will be light. The same number of soldiers that would normally staff one BMA will be spread out over three sites. We’ll be hiring civilians to make up the difference in requisite manpower. With the redundancy of three sites, we won’t have all our eggs in one basket.

“There’ll of course be more FLBs at other points up and down the northern coast, but those will be handled by other brigades. Just concern yourself with the three sites we’ll need near Darwin. Your three sites should all be in no more than a two-hundred-mile radius.”

He gestured to the map again. “So think Lawrence of Arabia. The Top Enders are going to be our Bedouins, Caleb. Instead of riding camels and horses, they’ll be driving Toyota utilities, but the principle is the same. Our job is to provide the logistics. There’ll be regular maneuver units to follow up, but odds are that for the first week—or perhaps even the first month—you and the local Stay Behinds will be left to your own devices. In the logistics world, all our bag and baggage denies us the advantage of great maneuverability. So you’ll have to be very clever in choosing the locations for your FLBs. You’ll need to pull a magic trick to make the FLBs disappear. Strike a balance between good camouflage and accessibility all within a short time frame. Obviously, you can’t bury it all, or it will be no good to us. Nor can you leave it where the Moslem hordes can find it.”

The colonel paused, and then added, “I need you get up there, go through the PEACHs site selection process, and get the stores left behind at Robertson as well as those we shuttle up there in position quite quickly. And—how do I put this?—Be bold, but don’t be hasty. A lot will be riding on your decisions. Consider that, if you miscalculate, you could be providing logistics stockpiles for the Indos rather than our own forces.”

Caleb gave a grim nod. “That’s a heavy responsibility, sir.” Caleb looked down at his clasped hands for a few moments and then asked, “Sir, to have recourse to a Plan B, I’d like your permission to bring along enough demolitions and thermite to deny everything we have to the invaders in case they do fix any of our hardstand positions and roll up on us.”

“That would be wise, Caleb. I’ll see to it that you can requisition whatever demo gear you need, and I’ll have someone from the Engineers give you the über short course in making things go boom. If need be, I’ll have a sapper detailed to go with you to provide refresher training to your logisticians. Most of us haven’t discussed demo-ing our own supplies since we took our branch courses—and for me that was many years ago.”

He brushed his hand over his bald head, for emphasis.

“The position I’m giving you is something I’d normally give to a major. And in fact if it were in my power, I’d promote you before sending you out. But as you know, the promotion process has become very bureaucratic in recent years, and the promotion boards hold inordinate power. In some ways, we’re still stuck with the peacetime army mentality even though we’re on the brink of war. So I’m making the recommendation that you be given a standard commission and that you move up in rank. While we wait for the gears of bureaucracy to turn, I’m sending you with a letter that gives you a lot of leeway—more or less a roving commission, with a checkbook to match. I trust that you won’t disappoint me.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Very well, then. Ready a small advance party to be on the road within thirty-six hours. You’ll have to do a lot of thinking on your feet. The PM said ‘improvise,’ so make that happen. You’ll be counting a lot upon the cooperation of the local civilians. Anything they might lack in volunteer spirit, you can make up for with the Crown’s good checks.”

“Understood, sir.”

Reynolds sat down in his desk chair to indicate that their meeting was drawing to a close. Waggling his index finger to punctuate his words, Reynolds said, “Again, be bold, but don’t be hasty.”

“Will do, sir.”