‘Yes, Sarge — crystal,’ replied Finn, feeling like a schoolkid being scolded by a teacher.
Higgins looked around, daring anyone else to ask a question. ‘All right, then. Get yourselves organised, we’re moving out at 0100 hours tonight.’
Bull turned to walk away with Finn. ‘Mate, it’s all a bunch of bollocks. He’s right, though: all you ask is how, how you’re gonna stay alive, so that once it’s all over you can ask someone in Canberra “why the fuck?”’
Finn smiled ruefully, nodding his head. ‘’Spose you’re right, mate.’
That night they drove the Connies to within five kilometres of the bridge and then set out on foot. The air was cold and the lack of a moon made it dark as hell. Finn walked silently, bent at the knees, rifle held across his chest. He was sweating despite the cold, which created a clammy, shivery layer of moisture over his skin. His mind was unsettled and he couldn’t stop thinking that something wasn’t right about this mission. Creeping further away from the Connies and closer to the bridge, Finn felt more nervous than on any of the previous missions. The eerie view through the night-vision goggles didn’t help settle his nerves, either.
In front of him he could just make out the silhouette of Higgins, who was leading them through the thick scrub. Higgins had stopped, with his right arm raised, fist clenched in a ball, staring straight ahead.
Finn froze and stared at Higgins, who slowly crouched. Everyone followed Higgins’ lead and crouched down. Straining his ears, Finn tried to hear beyond the sound of the rhythmic chorus of the frogs, which filled the night.
Still in a crouch, Higgins looked back and waved the others forward to his position. Without a word, Higgins used hand signals to send Dave and Jessop, the snipers, out to their positions, and the rest of the squad to follow him down the hill towards the bridge.
Through the scrub the lights of the bridge could be seen, bright and sparkling — the Chinese, thought Finn, were making no attempt to be covert about the bridge. It was so brightly lit it was almost challenging them, tempting them to come closer.
Moving more slowly now, they crept through the scrub to a point where the bush stopped and grass began. They could see the train track to their left, and directly ahead was the bridge.
The plan was for Higgins and Bull to go it alone from here, running forward and placing the explosive charges on the bridge. The others would cover them if they were spotted.
Finn watched as Higgins and Bull ran forward silently, crouching low to minimise their profiles. They disappeared into the darkness, beyond the power of Finn’s night-vision. He crouched down and leaned against a tree for support, his rifle trained on the dark ground ahead.
The minutes seemed like hours. Higgins and Bull had attached the explosives and were on the return journey when suddenly Finn heard voices speaking in Chinese. They were coming from the left. He immediately realised it must be a patrol, walking along the train track towards the bridge. At the same time, Higgins and Bull ran right into them. Higgins stopped, looked up and without any hesitation lifted his RG and started firing, the plasma discharge lighting up the end of his barrel. The Chinese hit the ground, some dead, some alive.
‘Blow it!’ yelled Higgins at the top of his lungs, before launching into a sprint for the bushline.
All hell broke loose. The Chinese were yelling, returning fire on Bull and Higgins, who were both legging it to the cover of the scrub. Finn and the others began laying down suppression fire on the patrol.
Carver was fumbling with the remote detonator. After what seemed an eternity, he finally hit the button. The explosion was nothing spectacular, just a dull thud and massive shock wave that made everyone’s ears pop. This was followed closely by the torturous scream of metal bending and warping and, finally, the crashing sound of the bridge collapsing.
Higgins and Bull were still running towards them under furious enemy fire. Finn and the others were returning it just as liberally. The two snipers were devastating but the Chinese outnumbered them at least three to one.
Higgins threw himself into the shrub near Finn, rolling over and into a crouch with lightning speed, immediately opening fire on the Chinese who were moving up on their position.
Bull crashed into the bush not far behind.
‘Move back!’ yelled Higgins above the gunfire.
Standing in a low crouch, Finn shuffled backwards, still firing on the Chinese. There were so many of them now, and they were moving up quickly.
A grenade went off near Finn, the force of the explosion punting him sideways and to the ground. Stunned but not hit, head fuzzy, ears ringing, he could still see the insanity that was raging around him. Pulling himself together, he shook his head and opened his mouth wide, trying to pop his ears.
He saw Higgins yelling, but he couldn’t make out what he was saying. All Finn could think was to get as far away from there as possible. Turning to run, Finn held his rifle behind him, firing randomly.
Looking over to his right, he could see Carver running through the scrub, doing the same. He saw him stop to throw a grenade. As soon as Carver had thrown it, his left shoulder jerked wildly backwards. He had been hit.
Finn changed direction and ran over to Carver, who was unconscious on the ground, his shoulder at an unnatural angle and bleeding profusely.
Reaching for his good arm, Finn lifted him to a seated position. Heaving him desperately up to his shoulder, panic kicked in. He knew the Chinese were close.
Finn sensed something close to him, moving quickly. Turning too late, Finn felt a split second’s pain… and then, blackness.
Chapter 14
Consciousness came slowly to Finn. The first thing he noticed was an intense pain in the front of his head, which shot through to the back as he opened his eyes. His mouth was bone dry, his vision blurry. A sound was slowly registering above the ringing in his ears. A distant scream, like nothing Finn had ever heard before. It was removed though, detached from reality, like it was happening far away. He tried to sit up but realised his hands and feet were bound. Rather than struggle, Finn looked around, taking in his surroundings — dirt floor, dim light, confined space, corrugated tin walls, a single wooden chair in the middle of the room, a workbench opposite.
Finn grunted, trying to get up again. Head pounding like mad, he squeezed his eyes shut to try and counter the feeling of his eyes popping out his skull. His vision was still blurry when he opened them again.
The sound of the man screaming was louder and clearer now — it made Finn’s whole body feel raw. It also sobered him up and sharpened his awareness of his surroundings. He started to remember what had happened at the bridge. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought it was still dark, given the dim light in the room, so he had to assume that he had only been unconscious a few hours and that he was still somewhere near the bridge. Taking inventory of himself, he didn’t think he was bleeding anywhere — but his comms unit and weapons had been stripped from him at some point.
The screaming stopped. Finn’s body immediately relaxed, as though an electrical cord had been unplugged in him. A moment later, the door to the tiny shed was thrown open. A Chinese officer strode in first, followed by two men dragging in another by the shoulders. The man being dragged was unconscious. The officer pointed to the ground and barked an order. The two soldiers flung the man to the ground, wiping their bloodied hands on their jackets.
The officer looked over quizzically at Finn, who was lying face-down on the ground. He walked over and crouched beside Finn. ‘Ah, you’re awake,’ he said, ‘I’m glad. I hope your head does not hurt too much.’