I did screw down the lid very firmly, using the big, ornate keys provided. I then drove the short distance to the station carpark and, upon arrival, could see that there were still only a few folk, mainly military, loitering about in the early morning darkness. Good. That’s what I had hoped for. Now to try and be a sergeant. I left the vehicle parked (and running) at the gate of the northbound platform. This was, of course, a no-standing zone but, after all, I was a sergeant in the Australian Army. Who would challenge me? I approached a small knot of soldiers who were waiting on the platform and tried to assume a firm, but affable, tone with them. “Ah! Gentlemen,” I said. “You’re just the ‘volunteers’ I need.” They turned and looked at me with suspicion. “Volunteers?” they seemed to say, as one. “What for, exactly?” “I have one of our fallen colleagues waiting at the gate. He’s a heavy chap and I need some blokes to help me get him onto the platform.” This, apparently, was explanation enough and “No worries, Sergeant” was the general reply. They followed me back to the ute but, as they did so, I picked up a half-muttered comment: “He looks a bit young to be a sergeant, doesn’t he?” Hmm. Yes, that might yet prove to be a difficulty. Not unexpectedly, some folk (including the station master) had gathered about to watch. No problem. As I said, this had been expected. “Hey, Sergeant,” said one of the soldiers. “This is the fanciest coffin I’ve ever seen.” “Nothing but the best for our fallen comrades,” I replied. The soldiers nodded in agreement. Another said: “We heard that the zombies got some of our guys in battle. Do you know if that’s true?”
Yma hi ow kegina ragdho.langbot langbot