‘A mutiny they say, some sort of riot. They’re heading into town.’

‘But why do we have to kill them?’

‘I dunno.’

Two companies of the 51st Battalion were hurriedly deployed to block off the approaches into Townsville and halt the Americans, who were apparently armed. Already awaiting their arrival at the designated rendezvous points would be several units of US Military Police. Should the Negro troops not surrender peaceably upon command, the operational orders were undeniably clear – ‘shoot to kill’.

‘Jeez, who was the prick who came up with the code name Operation Black Buck?’ Private Frank Midgely queried his fellow two-man crew as their Bren Gun Carrier trundled its way to the road-block point. ‘Bit disrespectful, don’t you reckon,’ he said, eyes trained on the dark track ahead, now eerily illuminated by the carrier’s spotlights. ‘Downright bloody rude when you think about it.’

‘Nah, just some clown of an officer trying to be funny,’ his gunner mate Paddy Sullivan assured him, ‘probably didn’t mean to offend. Anyway, they’ve shortened the code name to Buck, so no harm done.’

‘Yeah, don’t lose any sleep over it, Midge,’ Ron Kibbey, the third team member said. Midge, although undoubtedly the leader of the three, was a bit of a softie, always aware of other people’s feelings, which was why his mates liked him.

‘Buck’s still rude though,’ Midge wasn’t budging from his argument, ‘kind of patronising, you know? Sort of putting them down. I’ve met quite a few of these Negroes in town and they’re really nice blokes.’

‘Too right they are,’ Paddy agreed, ‘a helluva lot nicer than the white Yankees, I’ll give them that much.’

‘Yeah,’ Ron agreed once more and this time with a grin to Paddy. ‘Pity we haven’t been ordered to shoot them instead,’ and both young men laughed.

‘You’re just jealous, that’s your problem,’ Midge said, not unpleasantly, simply stating a fact. ‘All the Aussies are jealous of the Yanks, and that’s understandable, but jeez, it’s not the Yanks’ fault they get paid more than we do.’

Ron and Paddy exchanged a look. Sometimes Midge could be too nice for his own good. Besides, Midge had it easier than most. From a well-off, middle-class family and with a steady girlfriend, Midge had extra money and no desire to compete with the Yanks for women. Despite this seeming advantage, though, neither Ron nor Paddy bore Midge any form of true grudge. To the contrary they respected him. All three privates were twenty-year-old ‘nashos’ from North Queensland – ‘chocolate soldiers’ to the enlisted men who didn’t hold them in high regard, a term which most found galling. Ron and Paddy reckoned that, as such, you really had to give it to Midge. Midge had been two years into his university course in Brisbane when he’d been called up, and as a uni student he could easily have deferred his national service. But he hadn’t. Born and bred in Cairns, he’d headed home to defend the north, believing it his bounden duty to do so. Midge didn’t give a shit about being called a ‘choc’. Midge had his principles.