Five Rounds Rapid...Fire: Seen the Headlines?

"FIVE ROUNDS RAPID. . . .FIRE"

Came the day of the first competition with other detachments of the platoon. The location of the shoot was a plain known as Cotterill's Ridge, below the picturesque Buderim Mountain. Rules governing the competition were drawn up by an A.I.F. mortar platoon commander. 

• These were:
  • 1 . Speed-The fastest team to count 100 points, the remaining teams to deduct half a point for every second slower than the team gaining 100 points.
  • 2 . Accuracy - Target area to be anywhere within a radius of fifty yards of flag as indicated; one-fifth point to be deducted from possible 100 points for every yard a bomb falls outside this radius.

Before leaving for the rendezvous Mac grilled his two detachments for over an hour. The mounting time was reduced to under twenty seconds and maintained until he was satisfied that his teams would win the speed test for mounting.

"Righto, boys. I know you can pull this show off," he remarked. "Take no notice of surroundings, 'Brass Hats', or any advice offered by spectators. Just think what you have to do your part in the job ahead."

"Say, Sarge," said a No. 1 gunner. "Will there be any rapid?"

"That depends on circumstances. You make good time, and I'll bung 'em down.... Any further questions? Right! You know all about it."

During the fifteen-mile run to the artillery range the boys were damnably quiet; in fact, their quietness was suggestive of nervousness,

"Going to draw for positions," said the O.C. "Detachment commanders, fall out!"

In the draw, Buderim drew first position, Palmwoods second, Nambour No. i third, and Nambour No. 2 fourth.

Buderim mounted in 21 seconds, only to discover that their mortar was laid on the wrong target. They remounted and fired the first in 2 minutes 9 seconds; the shoot, comprising six rounds, was completed in 5 minutes 45 seconds. Palmwoods took 6 minutes 53 seconds, and Nambour No. 1, 4 minutes 3 seconds.

Now came Nambour No. 2's chance.

"How are you feeling, Metty?" said Mac to Corporal Metzroth, a raw-boned farm hand, who had never heard of mortars until he joined the V.D.C., but who within a few months could run the traverse and elevating gears just as easily as he could swing a cane knife or drive a pair of horses in front of a plough.

"Never better, Sarge," came the confident answer.

"Have you prepared all that 'ammo.', No.4? "

"Ammunition correct," announced No. 4.

"On vehicle," shouted Sarge.

The boys scrambled on and squatted alongside their respective stores. During the brief drive of seventy yards to the starting line Corporal Metzroth never took his eyes from his target-a stumpy flag on the extreme left of the range.

The timing commenced from the moment when the first man alighted from the vehicle. Mac was the first to go. Metzroth was alongside him. With his big foot Mac kicked up a clump of dirt.

"Base plate position. Target, flag extreme left. Charge 2. 1100 yards. Action! "

In seventeen seconds, the sight was on the pillar. A few seconds later, Metzroth shouted "On!"

"One round, fire!" ordered Mac.

No. 2 turned slightly towards the mortar and cautiously dropped the 91-lb. bomb down the barrel. There was a roar, and we watched the bomb in its twenty seconds' flight. It landed out at 2 o'clock, about 75 yards from the flag.

"Down fifty, left two degrees!" yelled Mac.

Metzroth, in a few seconds, made the correction. Up flew his left hand as he shouted "On!"

"Five rounds rapid ... Fire!" Mac ordered. and the boys worked like a machine. No. 2 dropped them as though he had handled hundreds.

"That B - - - doesn't know what he's doing." "He's mad!" "Hell, he's taking a risk!" Such were the remarks that came from the spectators.

The suspense was broken as the bombs fell in the target area. The major smiled, and there was a satisfied grin on the face of an A.I.F. colonel, a spectator of the show.

There was a yell of "You Beaut! " from the "A" Company boys. Every one of those "five rapid" found its mark within the radius of fifty yards. Mac was spun round, and the boys grabbed his hand. "Good on you, Sarge, you're a - - - ripper."

After pin-pointing the targets to correct for accuracy, the O.C. announced the points. Metzroth and his three members had completed their job in two minutes dead. They gained 100 points for speed, and go for accuracy. Nambour No. 1 was second with 101 points, Buderim followed with 53, and Palmwoods fourth with 43.

"Q204703"

Grenade Thrower by VX128043

THE MISSING RIFLE

• There's dismay and consternation in the local V.D.C., 
  • And the Company Commander and his worried 2 I/c 
  • Are exhibiting the signs of strain, anxiety and care, 
  • For (reveal it not to Nippon) one man's rifle is not there.
• It appears that Private Blank (that's not, of course, his proper name, 
  • But he's such a decent bloke that we will smother up his shame) 
  • Was detailed for special duty and he wanted both hands free, 
  • So he leaned his rifle, so he says, against a nearby tree.
• When he later went to get his prized and precious three-one-0, 
  • It had done the disappearing trick. He hunted high and low. 
  • His platoon, his mates, and everyone who had the time to spare, 
  • Hunted sedulously; but alas! the rifle was not there.
• In the Army there is one thing that you really must not do, 
  • That is lose a rifle-or you'll raise a pretty how de do' 
  • When the O.C. heard the dreadful news he raised the very deuce. 
  • And he would have gnashed his teeth, but they were false, and rather loose.
• When reports went to the big shots up at H.Q., Petrie's Bight 
  • (So we learn on good authority) the balloon went up all night.
  • Yes, the H.Q. Staff no doubt received the ghastly news in full. 
  • Could you blame them if they felt somewhat like Barney's famous bull.
• So they held "Inquiry-Court of" for to sift the evidence,
  • "Was the rifle left against a tree, or up against a fence"
  • "Was this Private Blank a person whom one really cared to know"
  • Or a spy who joined the Corps to get a rifle for the foe-"
• "Did the C.C. and his men do all the things they should have done. 
  • Such as sleuth the bush and thereabouts to find the- missing gun- 
  • (just between ourselves, these three-one-Os are not too flaming hot, 
  • And the bulk of us would cheer like hell if someone lost the lot.)
• One smart Alec has a notion that some careless little boy
  • Had mislaid his little popgun the grounds where we deploy, 
  • And in passing saw what he thought was his popgun by a tree, 
  • Thus acquired the missing three-one-0, and took it home with glee.
• And again, the birds are nesting there, and everybody knows 
  • How small scraps of tin and odds and ends are gathered by the crows. 
  • So if all the evidence so far does not impress the Court, 
  • This might set the sleuths a-sleuthing on another line of thought.
• Let us carry on, however, in the proper Army style, 
  • Let us smother any levity, or semblance of a smile, 
  • Let's fill in a few more Army forms, have more inquiries made, 
  • For it doesn't matter if it wrecks another night parade.
• But there comes this new suggestion by a bloke not yet involved
  • That the Court, if it has not so far the weighty happening solved, 
  • Should begin negotiations for the hold-up of the war 
  • Till they find the missing rifle of the local V.D. Corps.

"Q200343"

Recruiting Mounted Detachments by NX37173

"SEEN THE HEADLINES?"

Mrs. Morris had twins and she got a banner strip, across the front page. And when war was declared, Rex filled the front page with the one word in six-inch deep letters and an exclamation mark that rocked you where you sat. And the other three pages of the Mercury were written as if Rex had been hiding under the table at Downing Street when the announcement was made. Rex had imagination -"Too much," said Mrs. Morris, who hadn't liked the reference to her stamina in the story of the twins.

When they formed the local V.D.C. Rex was one of the first to join. He had been to the last show and for fourteen months afterwards he had run a column: "My Day, 1914-18", which led one to believe, if ever any one believed Rex's writing, that he had had more adventures and escapades than Richard Coeur de Lion, Don Juan, Jacka, and Bluey and Curly. But he came to the inaugural meeting and from then on the V.D.C. was mentioned in every issue. 

The day they had the manoeuvres down at the beach they got two page, with pictures but as Rex told them-"I'm just waiting till we do something really big. Then you'll see a spread." They could imagine. Only down in their part of the world. on the south coast of Victoria, they couldn't see anything, big or small, happening. unless the Tasmanians decided to cross the Strait and go to war with the Apple and Pear Board.

In the early days the section was most enthusiastic, tearing about the countryside with a vigour that, their wives caustically noted, had been missing in the days when their only outlet for enemy had been lawn-cutting. But as the danger of invasion receded and the dim hope of ever being called upon by the authorities paled altogether, training slumped and attendance fell away. A few, men who didn't like lawn-cutting or their wives, and Rex, still turned up every Sunday, and every Wednesday Rex still mentioned the V.D.(~. in the Mercury. He was still waiting for the "something really big" to break.

Each night the section posted a one-man patrol on the cliff overlooking the beach, two men splitting the stretch into five-hour shifts from eight till six, the duty falling to each man once every seven days.

To-night as he set out to do the eight-till one shift, Rex looked out to sea. It scintillated in the moonlight, a silver track from the shore to the night sky. A breeze blew from the land, taking a faint spray off the waves as they broke.

"Peace At Sea," he murmured to himself, still thinking in headlines. "Can death and destruction come from such tranquility?" he added as a subtitle.

He reached the observation post, took his binoculars from the case at his hip, and scanned the sea, earnestly dramatic in his attitude, little worried by the fact that they weren't might-glasses and he would have done better without them. Reassured, he packed his pipe and sat down.

As he sat gazing out over the sea, his slouch hat pushed back on his head, the Owen gun, the only one belonging to the section, between ~Is knees, his mind wandered back over the history of the V.D.C. in the last two years. The Government House parade in Melbourne. That was a day ' Governor Inspects 5,000 V.D.C.-Impressive Display of Booxyarra Section. He'd given that a page and pictures. The time he'd gone to the three-day camouflage course at Geelong. Boowarra Man Tops V.D.C. Score. He'd given that a column and a picture of himself, the one in profile taken just before he sailed in '14. But he wished something big would break . . .

His pipe went out and he tapped his pockets for a match. As he did so his eyes roved across the sea and with a start he sat up, his hat falling off with the suddenness of the movement.

"Ciddy Editor!" he exclaimed.

A tingling feeling started in his chest and surged through his body. The hair bristled on the back of his neck. He strained his eyes, forgetting about the binoculars, and concentrated his gaze on the dark object in the path of moonlight, trying to detect movement. A cloud passed across the moon and the sea went dark. He thought he detected a phosphorescent glow from the spot he had under observation.

Then briskly he picked up the phone. Headquarters, otherwise Reg Pearce the local schoolmaster, answered.

"Thomas Reporting," he headlined. "Suspicious Movements At Sea. Suggest Check Fishing Fleet Movements. Standing by for Instructions."

"O.K., Thomas," came the reply. "Stand fast and, off the record, Rex, don't tell me this is the something big?"

Rex caught the laugh as the phone was hung up. Let 'em laugh. None of them could equal the combination of a good soldier and a good newspaperman.

The moon was out again.

"It's getting closer," he muttered. He wondered if the others would be here before the boat landed. Would he have to deal with the situation alone? Lone V.D.C. Man Captures Seventeen Japs! Old Soldier's Feat.

The phone rang and he bent down, still keeping his eye on the sea.

He gave the by-line. "Thomas here."

"The fishing fleet are all in port, Rex. There are ten riflemen and five grenade-throwers on the way. Anything further to report?"

"Yes, sir. It's a large rowing boat. Can't distinguish how many are in it."

"O.K. Keep 'em tagged. Assistance should be there in ten minutes."

There was no doubt about it now; he could pick out details fairly clearly. He snapped in a magazine and cocked his Owen, setting the safety catch. He crept towards the edge of the cliff and waited. This was it. Something big. And he alone was witnessing it. What a story! "It's all right, Keith," he'd say. "You can have the story free. just give me the byline."

He could distinguish figures in the boat now, seven or eight of them. A man was standing up in the bow of the boat and it was this fellow who identified the landing party. The boat caught a wave and shot in swiftly to bury its prow in the steep-sloping sand, pitching the standing figure forward on to the beach. A faint high-pitched oath, not Australian, came floating up from the beach. Japs Land at Boowarra!

Rex released the safety catch. "You little beaut."

He waited till the Nips had beached the boat and were grouped about on the beach. They lifted a heavy box out of the boat and carried it up from the water-line. One of them was carrying a long object like a golf-bag. They were going to set up a radio-set!

Rex raised the Owen and took sight into the middle of the group. Slowly he pressed the trigger. The tracers went away, a red dotted line in the night, and he saw two Japs reel and fall. Pandemonium broke loose on the beach. The group split up and bolted for the boat.

Rex leaped to his feet. He mustn't let any escape! He tore down the path to the beach, reached the sand, and plunged across, firing the gun from his hip. He exhausted a magazine, threw it away, and snapped another in, not missing a step in his determined advance. He opened his mouth and started singing "Australian sons, let us rejoice, For we are..." and the tracers still poured through the night in front of him. The Nips panicked, broke from the boat, and started to run in different directions. Rex stopped, put the gun to his shoulder, and carefully picked them off one by one. It was beautiful shooting. He got the last man at a hundred and fifty yards, with his head down and zig-zagging.

Rex turned towards the boat. And saw one of the first men hit crawling up through the sand towards the under-bush. Rex lifted his gun, took aim, then stopped.

"Not in cold blood," he thought. "There's Humanity in War."

He crept rapidly along, stalking like an Indian, keeping close to the cliff until he drew level with the Jap. Uttering a piercing cooee. in one bound, a magnificent leap, he was on the enemy, pinning him to the sand. The Jap gasped, "Heil Hirohito!" and lost consciousness.

Rex sat on the Jap and cleaned the 0-,ven

gun. He sang "Advance Australia Fair" and "God Save the King" and the "Marseillaise". Ile didn't know "Star Spangled Banner" so he sang "Swannee River". This would look well in the story. Hero Sings After Killing Seven Japs. Boowarra Baritone Breaks Up Jap Boat Party. He'd have to have another photo taken. He started "Chinatown, My Chinatown . . ."

"Cut the noise, Rex. I could hear you a mile away. What the hell are you thinking about"

He looked up. It was Bill Murphy, his relief .

"Eh? Oh, nothing. Just working out a story." He stood up. "Nothing to report.

Good night."

"V364412'"

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