I could hear a babble of voices as I moved crockery into the dining hall. Shaun and Joe had met the ferry and were bringing a crowd of visitors up the jetty road. Warren and Rhys were with the boys in the dormitory, where they would stay until the first bars of ‘Waltzing Matilda’ blasted from a pair of speakers flanking the parade ground. It was slightly overcast, thank God; people often didn’t come prepared to sit out in the blazing sun. But most of our visitors were wearing hats. I saw them when I peered through the window.

I also saw Shaun huddled with Clive Creswell, the reviewing officer. Clive was a retired colonel who came to every passing-out parade. A solid bloke in his sixties with thinning white hair, he wore a wide-brimmed Akubra and all his medals. As the other visitors slowly settled into the chairs laid out for them, Clive remained standing, straight-backed and sharp-eyed. His stern gaze always had a quietening effect on the assembly.

I wasn’t surprised to hear the chatter and clatter slowly fade, though once or twice a fractious voice rang out. ‘Not much for the money,’ someone said. Someone else loudly complained, ‘There’s no bloody phone reception!’ A third voice hissed, ‘They told us that, remember? No screens…’

Then, after a burst of static from the speakers, Shaun welcomed everyone to Buangan Pa’s fifteenth Vetnet Passing-Out Parade. I’d heard his speech many times, so I went back to pulling scones from the oven while he explained his philosophy and introduced Colonel Clive Creswell, CSC. ‘…Conspicuous Service Cross…Army Command and Staff College…East Timor…Meritorious Unit Citation…’ The list of honours was as lengthy as it was tedious. Shaun also mentioned me, and I tried to ignore that as well; it was embarrassing. ‘Thanks to the Buangan Pa caretaker…responsible for this beautiful spread… she’ll be relieved to see the back of us and have the island to herself again…’

I only pricked up my ears when Tyler was mentioned. Shaun revealed that Vetnet’s first and only medical evacuation had occurred the day before. ‘Tyler Metherill suffered a fractured fibula and is recovering in hospital,’ he announced. I was interested to see how the audience reacted to this, so I slipped out onto the dining-hall veranda, which overlooked a sea of heads.