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‘I have no idea, Sergeant, but it’s what’s available for now. I’m sure we’ll get a decent feed when we reach Wherever we’re going.’
‘Everyone, back on the truck. I’ve just had a radio message from Adelaide River. We are to proceed there with all speed.’
Meg glanced at the body of Corporal Jackson. ‘What about the dead soldier, Corporal? We need to bury him and—’
‘We can’t wait, Sister. Right, you lot, get on the—’
‘We can’t leave him under the tree.’ Meg stood her ground, but looked around for Pat. ‘Sister, tell him. It isn’t right.’
The corporal overtalked her. ‘Everyone, on board now.’
The wounded who could stand, did. But no one made a move towards the truck. Meg looked at their faces. Pain and fatigue had etched lines on many, but to a man they were resolved to do the right thing.
‘Ain’t leaving till the private has been buried and we’ve said a few words over him.’ A sergeant with a bandage over one eye leaned heavily on a branch he had picked up for a crutch. He looked in no fit state to dig, but he turned away from the driver and hobbled slowly over to where the dead boy lay. He looked around then pointed to a spot a few yards off the track. ‘The ground there looks a bit softer. We’ll dig there. Flanagan?’
Corporal Flanagan saluted with his good arm. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘Organise some men to gather rocks to put over the grave.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Meg fought the lump in her throat. ‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
‘It’s the last thing we can do for the lad. Sister, did you see a shovel in the truck?’
‘I’ll look now.’ Meg turned to find Pat watching her. Her friend nodded.
‘Well done, Meg. I saw a short-handled shovel in the cab, under the seat. It won’t be much use for a deep hole, but if they lay stones over him, he should be safe from any animals.’ She climbed into the cabin. A moment later, her backside stuck up in the air as she worked the shovel free from under the seat then clambered back down and carried it to the sergeant.
He looked around the group of soldiers, as though assessing who among them was fit enough to wield the tool.
The driver, the only man in the group who wasn’t injured, approached. ‘I’ll dig his grave.’ His cheeks were pink, but his gaze met and held the sergeant’s as he held out his hand for the shovel.
‘I’ll find something to make a cross with.’ Meg slipped into the bush on the other side of the track. Two sticks and some vine, if she could find any, would serve as a simple cross for the private.
Sunlight fell on salmon-coloured bark and drew her to a tree she didn’t know the name of. It looked like some sort of eucalyptus. White-grey bark hung in long strips and beneath it, glorious salmon-pink wood almost glowed in the early morning light. Large triangular leaves offered shade, and twigs of varying thickness and length lay around the base of a tree. She selected two of the thickest, straightest twigs then looked around for a flexible plant to tie them together.
Stepping between bushes, she slipped, her feet went out from under her, and she landed hard. ‘Oof. Ow.’
Leaves crunched, a hand took her elbow and a familiar voice spoke beside her. ‘Are you okay, Sister?’
She looked up into the concerned eyes of Corporal Flanagan. ‘I’m fine, thank you, Corporal.’ But tears sprang to her eyes. She dashed them away with the back of her hand and sucked in a calming breath.
‘A fall will do that to you. It shakes everything loose inside and when that happens, it’s best to let the excess moisture out.’
‘It’s not the fall, Corporal. It’s just—Private Jackson was so young.’
‘He was. Old men send young men off to fight wars. Cemeteries are full of the graves of the young.’
‘But he’ll be buried here so far from home and his loved ones won’t know where he is. They won’t be able to visit or bring flowers to his grave or—’ Meg tipped her head back to stop more tears falling. Blinking hard, she concentrated on the shifting patterns of leaves above their heads. ‘Sorry. I’m not usually so emotional. Nurses can’t afford to be.’
‘But you are human, and you looked after the lad as well as you could. He had a soft lap to lay his head and a tender hand to soothe him at the end. No man can ask for more.’
‘His family around him at the end of a long and happy life would be better, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, but under the circumstances, you gave him the comfort of one who cared about him. What you did back there, standing up to the driver like that, was brave.’
‘Good heavens, I’m not brave, Corporal.’
