Part 23 (1/2)

The final test of the Buffalo series was codenamed Breakaway. The bomb, with a core of 10 kilotons, was to be suspended from a tower, as had been the case in the One Tree test, but the difference on this occasion was the time of detonation. Breakaway was to take place in the dead of night.

'Well, we're beggars for punishment, aren't we?' Bud muttered.

Privates Bud Barton and Col Rogerson, rather than waiting to be a.s.signed special duty, had this time volunteered.

'You've got to be in it, mate,' Col had said. He was always the ringleader. 'They say the explosion's spectacular at night.'

'Oh, yeah? Who's they?'

'Well, you know, that's what they reckon.'

It was shortly after one o'clock in the morning and a dozen or so men were a.s.sembled in the outer perimeters of the forward area. They were wearing uniforms made of a new style of fibre the army was keen to test. A crescent moon was etched in the cloudless desert sky and stars glittered like gemstones, but the night's serenity was broken by the officer's voice barking out each second of the final minute's countdown.

'b.l.o.o.d.y stupid, that's what we are,' Bud continued to grumble when Col made no reply. He didn't know how he let himself get talked into these things.

Col grinned, undaunted. 'Don't be such a whinger. Imagine the stories you'll have down the track.' Col was excited. This was something else to tell Marge about when he got back to Perth.

The countdown reached ten and the men turned their backs.

'Three, two, one, zero ...'

This time, Bud's and Col's hands were not splayed over their faces. This time their fists were firmly ground into the sockets of their eyes. But, strangely enough, as the world turned white, they still saw the bones of their fingers.

For those watching several miles away at Roadside, the sight was truly spectacular. When the shock waves had pa.s.sed, they unveiled their eyes and turned to look at an unbelievable sky. The night was lit up as bright as day, and a giant red and gold fireball hung in the air.

Those in the forward area were greeted by an altogether different sight. They uncovered their eyes but did not turn around. They stood frozen in horror at the chaos before them.

's.h.i.+t,' Col muttered. 'Holy s.h.i.+t.'

They were surrounded by dozens of blinded rabbits.

The officer in charge made an instant decision. He did not order the men to crawl on the ground as had been his instructions. A quick ten-minute march sufficed, and then they were in the trucks heading back to Maralinga.

At dawn, clad in protective clothing and wearing gas masks, a team of scientists and several squads from the indoctrination force and the radiation detection unit arrived at the forward area several miles from ground zero. The scientists set about collecting their recording apparatus, and the officers commenced their laborious examination of the now burnt-out vehicles and equipment that had been strategically placed.

They could see, in the shallow far-distant valley, where the tower had been, the earth's bald surface now reflecting an ominous gla.s.sy-green. The teams would not venture that far. Readings would not be taken at ground zero for several days yet.

It was Captain Brian Fadden, a Canadian engineer from the radiation detection unit who first noticed the blackened Land Rover. He was puzzled. Who had put a Land Rover in the line of fire? The equipment normally used for experimentation purposes was worthless. Why destroy a valuable vehicle? What sort of idiot had made such a stupid decision, he wondered.

The same sort of idiot who'd put a dummy in the thing, he realised as he walked over to have a look. Now, how smart was that? The uniform and equipment placed on a dummy set at this range would be incinerated. And, of course, it was. The whole dummy was incinerated, charred beyond all recognition. It was just a blackened effigy of a human being.

Except that it wasn't an effigy. Oh my G.o.d, Brian thought, and he raised the alarm.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Kenneth and Prudence Gardiner were delivered the news in person on 23 October by a Major Neville Chadwick, who introduced himself as aide-de-camp to Lieutenant General Barraclough, British army.

'You are the father of Lieutenant Daniel Gardiner, sir?' the major asked when Prudence, upon request, summoned her husband to the front door. Kenneth nodded, and the major, grateful that he didn't have to confront the mother alone, continued. 'I'm afraid I have bad news for you both.' His pause was infinitesimal one could not break such news any way but brutally, and the sooner it was over the better for all concerned. 'It is my duty to inform you that Daniel was killed on 21 of October at approximately 2.30 pm Greenwich Mean Time in Maralinga, South Australia.'

There were no histrionics from either parent. The numbness of their disbelief robbed them of emotion. As the major continued, they even found themselves making intelligent queries, although they barely heard their own questions, let alone the responses. During later discussions, however, they would find that every word that had been uttered was clearly etched in their minds.

Ten minutes later, the major departed, leaving his details. The army would be in touch shortly regarding the memorial service, he said, and they were to telephone him any time of the night or day should they have any further queries.

Over the next twenty-four hours, as the afternoon stretched into a sleepless night, Kenneth and Prudence discussed everything the major had told them. They sifted through the information, trying to make sense of what had happened in a logical fas.h.i.+on, anything that would aid them in avoiding the awful reality. It would be some time before they would be capable of accepting the inevitable truth that their son was dead.

As a result, Elizabeth did not learn of Daniel's death until two days later. Fiancees did not rank as next of kin, so she was not informed by the army. The odious task fell upon Prudence.

'I apologise for ringing so early, Elizabeth.' Prudence, guilty at the thought of letting it go one day longer, had telephoned the flat at eight in the morning. 'But I wasn't sure what time you left for work. I'm afraid we have received some dreadful news.' Like the major, Prudence got straight to the point. 'Dan has been killed.' When there was no response from the other end of the line, she continued briskly, 'I'm sorry to be the bearer of such terrible tidings. I'm aware it must come as a shock. It did to us too, of course.'

Prudence Gardiner was not unsympathetic in her feelings for Elizabeth, but she could not allow any show of sentiment for fear she herself might start to crumble. She and Kenneth were keeping their grief private even from each other, it seemed, which Prudence found a little hard. She would like to have shared the burden of her anguish, at least with her husband.

'We were informed two days ago,' she continued. 'I must apologise for not calling you sooner, but we're only just now coming to terms with the news ourselves.'

'When ...? How ...?' Elizabeth's voice was barely audible as her shock manifested itself in utter confusion. She could not comprehend what she was hearing. England was not at war. How could Danny be dead? There had been no battle.

'Four days ago. It was an accident, so Major Chadwick told us ...' Prudence took a deep breath and repeated the major's words verbatim. 'An accident that occurred as a result of the detonation of a nuclear device. The army has offered to arrange a memorial service with full military honours. I'll let you know the details as soon as we've decided on the day.' Prudence's tone was brusque now, she needed to get off the phone. 'It will probably be the Sat.u.r.day after next, here in Crewe, of course. Naturally, you're quite welcome to stay with us.'

'A memorial service?' Elizabeth was more confused than ever.

'Yes, that's right. Major Chadwick says the circ.u.mstances of Dan's death make it impossible for the army to s.h.i.+p his body home to England. He'll be buried at Maralinga. It's another terrible blow to us, of course.'

'But '

'And now I really must go, Elizabeth.'

Prudence could talk no longer. She and her husband had discussed the subject, and there were no words left to say. Ken seemed to understand the necessity of their son being buried in a foreign land. Personally, she didn't, and she was sick to death of hearing the army knows best.

'I'll be in touch in the next day or so when the arrangements are made,' she said, and she softened a little. 'I'm sorry, my dear. I'm so very, very sorry for us all. Goodbye.'

Elizabeth's reaction as she hung up the receiver was much the same as Kenneth's and Prudence's had been. She was numb with disbelief. One quick phone call and she was expected to accept the irrefutable fact that Danny was dead? She couldn't. She couldn't possibly.

For some time she sat quite still, staring at the phone, unable to cry or to feel anything, unable to move or even to think. Then, as her mind started to clear, she told herself that she must take action. She must find out what had happened, the cold, hard facts. She would not believe Daniel was dead until she knew the truth.

It was an accident, so Major Chadwick told us. Major Chadwick, she thought. She needed to talk to a Major Chadwick. She was on the verge of ringing Prudence back to get the man's details, but had a better idea and telephoned The Guardian instead the direct line of Reginald Dempster, foreign correspondence editor.

'Reg, it's Elizabeth. I'd like you to do me a favour.'

'Of course. Are you all right? You sound a bit odd.'

'I need to get in touch with a British army officer, a Major Chadwick ...'

'Ah, yes, I know the chap.' The fact was not remarkable there were very few in the upper echelons of power that Reginald Dempster did not know. 'He's aide-de-camp to Lieutenant General Barraclough '

'Can you ring me back with his phone number? I'm at the flat.'

'Yes, of course. Are you sure you're all '