A week later, Companies A and C were posted to New Guinea, where they joined the others of their regiment who’d been transferred to Port Moresby not long after their arrival in Townsville. All the Companies of the 96th Battalion were now serving in New Guinea. The trouble that had arisen in Northern Queensland, the unfortunate uprising which had taken place just outside the city limits of Townsville at a place known locally as Kelso Field, could be relegated to the past. It had never happened.

Despite the fact that the troops of Companies A and C had been employed as a labour force and had not seen combat duty, among those now posted to Port Moresby there was a substantial number missing from the names originally listed. One such name was that of white commanding officer Captain Charles Leroy Maxwell of Company C. The records showed Maxwell had been stripped of his rank and was to have been transferred to the US Marines. But he hadn’t been. Nor had he been posted to New Guinea with the troops he had formerly commanded. His destiny had taken a different course altogether.

Three days after the closure of the investigation into the Kelso uprising, Chuck Maxwell’s body had been discovered by the riverbank about a mile from camp. Strangely enough, not far from where the body of young Anthony Hill had been discovered, and in a further strange coincidence the cause of death had been a broken neck.

Despite the coincidental nature of both deaths, an investigation had been unable to provide any evidence of foul play. There were no witnesses. The wintry banks of the Ross River at this particular juncture were steep and slippery, and the tangled undergrowth could easily cause a man to trip, as was evidenced by the path of damaged vegetation indicating the fall of the body. There was no option but to declare the death accidental, particularly with the troops shortly to depart for overseas. And although the military would never admit to it, the finding of ‘accidental death’ in the case of Charles Leroy Maxwell was really most convenient.

In the days that followed, as they awaited their departure, Samuel Robinson pondered Chuck Maxwell’s death. Everyone knew he’d been murdered, of course, but no-one spoke of it, not even shared whispers among themselves. The men had closed ranks; justice had been served. No point in wondering who might have been the particular culprit, Samuel thought, this death had without doubt been a group effort. Maxwell had been found guilty by judge and jury and summarily executed.

He couldn’t help wondering, though, about the circumstances. They wouldn’t have killed him in camp and transported his body to the riverbank, they wouldn’t have dared risk it. No, no, they would have kidnapped him and taken him well away from any possible witnesses.