The exchange, brief though it had been, had not gone unnoticed by Hank Henry, to whom it had spoken multitudes. So the two are having an affair, he thought disapprovingly. I wouldn’t have expected such behaviour of an officer like Robinson who knows the military’s view on relationships with local women. No emotional involvement, that’s the rule, Samuel. Far too much of this sort of thing going on. Damn it, man, what do you think we have brothels for?

Hardly the time to be handing out lectures on love affairs with locals though, he told himself as they marched to the waiting jeep, he and Samuel climbing into the back seat, the lieutenant taking the wheel.

‘Let’s hope you can pull a miracle out of the hat, Samuel,’ he said gruffly as the lieutenant revved up the jeep’s engine and the vehicle roared down Mitchell Street, heading towards the town centre and Victoria Bridge. ‘Let’s hope we get there before it’s too late and all hell breaks loose.’

The three trucks carrying the renegade troops of the 96th Battalion careered along the road towards Townsville, the Jimmys’ headlights dimly lighting the way. The men on board were now more drunk with reckless freedom than they were with Baz Taylor’s hooch. Several of those bearing weapons still fired sporadically into the surrounding darkness, Bernie letting loose now and then with a quick burst from his Chicago Piano, the others following up with a rifle shot, ensuring the level of excitement was maintained.

No-one was thinking of what might be waiting for them up ahead. No-one was thinking of anything much apart from the thrill of the moment.

Then as the trucks rounded a bend, they were hit with a stern reminder of reality. A hundred yards away, blocking the road, were bright lights that momentarily blinded them. The trucks slowed down, and as the men’s vision adjusted they could clearly make out the Bren Gun Carrier and the silhouettes of armed troops beside it lined up ready for battle, all weapons focused upon them.

The drivers brought the trucks to a halt. The men were shocked into a state of sobriety. Silence reigned. No-one moved.

The young troops of the Australian 51st Regiment, particularly those in the Bren Gun Carrier, and even the well-seasoned soldiers of the US Military Police, breathed a collective sigh of relief. Good. They wouldn’t be required to shoot to kill.

The silence was broken by the voice of authority calling out loud and clear from beyond the glare of the lights.

‘I am Lieutenant Stanwick of the US Military Police,’ the voice commanded. ‘You men of the 96th will divest yourselves of any weapons in your possession. You will throw them onto the ground well clear of the trucks. You will then turn the trucks around and return to Kelso Camp immediately. Failure to do so will result in your arrest for …’

But a voice interrupted him. The voice of Kasey Davis.