Choices. Jeff Edwards

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      I was fortunate, and it was not until I was seventeen that the cold hand of the law was once again placed on my shoulder.

      Uncle Bill was totally pissed off that he was being taken away from his precious RSL in order to collect me from the police station, and when we arrived home he vent his anger on me with a right fist to my solar plexus. I crumpled to the floor, and he kicked me in the head to highlight his message.

      I was lucky to appear before a different magistrate this time but I was placed on a good behaviour bond and told to pay a hefty fine, which Legacy reluctantly paid for me on the understanding that I complete my Higher School Certificate and stay out of further trouble. I had no alternative but to agree to the arrangement.

      I knew that my uncle would be waiting to extract some more pain upon me if I returned home, so I went straight down to the beach. There I smoked a joint before paddling out to enjoy the waves.

      By the time I finally arrived home he had given up on me and gone down to the RSL. He stumbled home barely able to stand, and as soon as he had dropped off to sleep I emptied his wallet.

      Legacy’s demand on my completing my Higher School Certificate was not a problem for me as I had always achieved high scores in my exams, and it was only when the waves at Maroubra Beach were of such high quality and begged to be ridden that caused my attendance at school to be overlooked, but I made sure to catch up on anything that I had missed in class during my absence.

      For the most part I enjoyed school as it was the only place where adults actually paid any sort of attention to me. A few of the teachers were really good people and I got along well with them.

      When the final results were published I achieved marks higher that even I expected. I celebrated by smoking a few joints with a surfing mate, riding the waves for the rest of the day, and then drinking well into the night.

      The pair of us finally stumbled out of a pub in the city and decided the time had come to return home. ‘Have you got any money?’ Bob asked.

      ‘Nope,’ I replied.

      ‘Me either. I’ve spent every last cent I own. How are we going to get home?’

      ‘We’ll catch a cab,’ I replied, waving to one as it drove past. ‘Come on,’ I called as it pulled over to the kerb.

      ‘How are we going to pay?’ whispered Bob beside me in the back seat.

      ‘When we get there, open the door and run,’ I slurred knowingly.

      Whether it was through fear or the fact that he could run faster, Bob was out the door of the taxi before it had a chance to come to a stop, and was disappearing into the night before I had the chance to follow.

      The taxi driver was a past master at handling drunks who attempted to run rather than pay, and was out from behind his wheel and had grabbed me before I could take evasive action.

      As he took a firm hold of my shirt, I reacted instinctively by throwing a drunken punch at his head and then pushing him away with all my might. The shirt tore and he landed heavily against his taxi, while I took the opportunity to make off into the dark as fast as my wobbly legs would take me.

      Panic and adrenalin gave me additional speed, but in my desperation I didn’t hear the driver climb back into his taxi and casually follow after me.

      As I fumbled for the key to the unit complex he watched from a short distance and as I disappeared inside my uncle’s unit he smiled. Returning to his taxi, he radioed his base, and the police were soon banging on Uncle Bill’s front door.

      ‘Drunken little bastard!’ the taxi driver swore, as the police dragged me outside and threw me into the rear of their patrol car.

      This time Uncle Bill decided that I had gone too far and refused to pay my bail, while the solicitor from Legacy was harsh in his assessment of my chances. ‘You’re going to jail,’ he said bluntly. ‘They’re going to demand their pound of flesh this time, unless we can come up with something special.’

      ‘Like what?’ I asked.

      ‘We give them their pound of flesh, but in a different form.’

      ‘What sort of “different form”?’

      ‘What do you think about the military?’

      ‘Not much. They wrecked my Dad and haven’t done much

      for Uncle Bill.’

      ‘Well you might not think too much of the army, but as an alternative to going to jail, what do you think?’

      ‘That’s not much of a choice.’

      ‘That’s all you’ve got son, jungle green or prison greens.’

      I nodded, resigned to my fate.

      After a persuasive speech to the court by my solicitor, my future was decided. It was agreed that I should not become a burden to the State as long as the State could put me to good use.

      When the time came for me to leave home I was surprised when Uncle Bill agreed to forego a drinking session at the RSL to take me down to the recruiting station from where the bus would take me away to basic training.

      He had been nowhere to be seen when the initial paperwork had been signed and my physical had taken place, but when the day of my departure arrived he was standing outside with the car door open, motioning for me to climb inside. I thought to myself, he’s only going with me to make sure I don’t back out. He can’t wait to get rid of me.

      If this was true or not I never did learn because he too died a few short months later. But before I climbed aboard the bus that would take me away he left me with some words of almost fatherly advice.

      Placing one hand on each of my shoulders, he looked deep into my eyes. ‘Don’t join the grunts. No matter what you do, no matter how appealing they make the infantry sound, don’t join the grunts! Find yourself a nice safe little job behind a desk or in a garage. There are plenty of other silly buggers out there that want to be cannon fodder. Let them. Remember what the infantry did to your Dad and me. Don’t let it happen to you! ’

      With those few words Uncle Bill showed more feelings for me than he had displayed in all the time I’d lived with him, and so when the time came for me to choose what corps to enter, I selected signals, and eventually ended up in Canberra.

      CHAPTER 12

      Diane held on for her life as Pile slid their government car past a semitrailer as it turned into one of the many enormous warehouse seemingly piled on top of one another in the new industrial complex at Wallgrove.

      Pile seemed unconcerned that overtaking the long vehicle as it was turning on these narrow streets was akin to attempting suicide as the oncoming traffic was hidden from view until the very last moment.

      Diane gripped the handle above the door in grim desperation. It’s alright for you, she muttered, you’re not far off retirement, but I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.

      Trying to keep the quaver of fear out of her voice she said loudly, ‘We’re not in that СКАЧАТЬ