fail to see any such proof here as evidence. In any event aside from doubt as to the nature of the weapon used to assault you, our inquiries can find no witnesses to the assault, and I understand you did not see your assailant.’
‘I assure you sir…’ Cook began, but a warning hand from the Brigadier cut him off.
‘Shall I tell you what the Board believes, Major Cook?’ the Brigadier said in a gentler tone.
‘Please, sir.’
‘It is our opinion that the real assailant in this case was the enemy. We believe it is likely that the enemy threw a bomb at you which failed to explode, but hit you on the head injuring you and necessitating you’re evacuation.’ The Brigadier sighed and gestured toward the other members of the Board. ‘Now Major, we want you to forget all this nonsense about Corporal Green. Concentrate on your recovery, man. We will contact you in the next day or so with our final decision. Good day to you.’
When the indignant Cook left the room, the Brigadier gave a sigh of exasperation. ‘An arrogant fool,’ he said flatly to his fellow Board members. ‘I know what I will be recommending!’
One Board member, a colonel, seemed to harbour some doubt. ‘What about this native fellow the chap kept prattling on about. Should we not at least investigate him?’
‘I don’t think so,’ the Brigadier replied carelessly. ‘I’ve received a letter from Brigadier Monash which I believe is relevant.’ He shuffled through a file of papers on the table. ‘Ah yes, here it is…I’ll not read the whole thing, but the important part is as follows…
“I have no doubt Major Cook will endeavour to implicate a member of my headquarters, Corporal Green, in an alleged assault on his person. Corporal Green denies the assault. I do not trust Major Cook and have reason to doubt his suitability for command. On the other hand, I have absolute trust in Corporal Green a skilful and intelligent soldier.”
‘The letter is signed John Monash,’ concluded the Brigadier as he set the letter aside. ‘Monash may not be everyone’s cup of tea,’ he acknowledged, ‘but he is a skilful soldier and a first-class judge of men. I remind you gentleman the purpose of this Board is to establish Major Cook’s culpability in an incident that cost the lives of several of his men, not this Corporal Green fellow.’
A low rumble of accent greeted these words and another member of the Board loudly proclaimed, ‘Sounds to me this Green fellow is just the sort of soldier we need, whereas Major Cook…’
The Brigadier smiled. ‘Then I think we have reached our decision, gentlemen…’
It was no surprise to anyone except Major Cook when the Board found him to be negligent and unfit for further command. It was recommended he be quietly repatriated to Australia and then discharged from the Army.
Cook, however, was not so easily defeated. He had powerful political friends and after some earnest lobbying at the very highest levels, the recommendation of the Board was set aside. However, when he had recovered fully from his injury, he was not returned to his battalion and was instead moved to England and established in his current appointment.
Of course, Major Cook should have been thankful to his highly placed patrons, but he was not. He believed their influence should have been used to secure him a posting as the Commanding Officer, a CO, of a battalion. The position of Second in Command, or 2ic as the position was referred to in Army circles, was just that…second to someone else, and the refusal of his benefactors to push for such an appointment puzzled and embittered him to the point of madness.
In the months that followed, Cook introduced a similar administration to the School to that he had employed as a company commander. His singular pleasure became inflicting frustration on all those of lesser rank than he. As Second in Command of the School, this made just about everyone other than the CO, his target. A few others, such as the RSM, were also immune from his malevolence, but as for the rest… they became Cook’s playthings, to be manipulated and taunted at his whim. He would cancel leave, insist on surprise inspection of the lines, and inflict harsh punishments for those who failed to meet his standards. On one occasion, he delayed signing the contracts with civilian suppliers for the School’s rations, resulting in a shortage of food for the men.
Then one day soon after the main evacuation from Gallipoli, as Cook reviewed a list of those to be posted to the School, he noticed a familiar name: “Sergeant R. Green.” Surely, Cook thought, it could not be the same man, but some discreet inquiries confirmed that it was indeed his nemesis.
At first, Cook was full of righteous indignation that a black fellow should be posted to such a prestigious unit as the Musketry School, an opinion he expressed publicly. Privately, however, he was fearful that Green’s presence at the School would revive the whole Gallipoli incident fiasco and render his position at the School untenable. He determined not to go quietly.
‘Surely,’ he complained to his CO, ‘the history between this man and myself is known. Green assaulted me! He may well do so again! And beside any personal concerns I have, the fellow is a bloody native and should never have been allowed to join the AIF. I realise there is now nothing that can be done about his enlistment, but I must point out he is totally unsuited to any work here!’
The CO was fully aware of how Cook had come to be removed from command and placed in the posting he currently held. He had also heard rumours as to how Cook had been injured, and that Green may have had something to do with it. However, the CO was a practical man and he saw no reason to challenge the findings of a properly convened court of inquiry. His response to his 2ic was hardly supportive: ‘I don’t agree with you,’ he responded. ‘An expert marksman is exactly what we need here. I’m afraid you will just have to get used to Sergeant Green being here, Major.’ Privately, the CO felt that if he had to make a choice between either Cook, or Green, he would far rather see the back of his 2ic.
Cook was incensed with the CO’s attitude, but a few days later he was astonished to learn that Green was almost as unhappy as he was with his posting. Green had written a formal letter requesting an immediate transfer to a battalion in France and in the normal course of administrative events, this letter landed on Cook’s desk. ‘I’m amazed the fellow can write!’ he had joked to the Chief Clerk.
‘Want me to bin it then, sir?’ the Chief Clerk asked, gesturing toward a wastepaper bin.
‘Good Lord, no!’ Cook had exclaimed in horror, ‘leave it with me.’
Cook lost no time in forwarding the letter, along with his own letter of recommendation supporting the request, to the AIF’s newly formed 3rd Division’s Headquarters. A few days later, both letters were returned and Cook was dismayed to see stamped across the pages “NO FURTHER ACTION TO BE TAKEN.”
Cook made some discreet inquiries and found that someone at the Headquarters had vetoed Green’s transfer.
In the weeks that followed, Green with Cook’s active support made repeated requests for transfer, each one meeting the same fate, and eventually a despondent Green gave up. Strangely, Cook did not take advantage of the situation to inflict his malice on Green, preferring instead to leave well enough alone in case his Gallipoli folly would become more widely known. Nevertheless, he watched Green closely, hoping against hope that the sergeant would make some kind of error that would allow him to pounce.
Then the very morning that the Sergeants’ Mess phone was out of order, and Private Ellis and his mates were rostered on for guard duty, a signal marked “URGENT” was delivered to Cook’s desk. On reading the document’s brief content, Cook was suddenly elated.
A knock on Cook’s office door interrupted his reverie: ‘Come,’ he called sharply.
A relieved Chief Clerk peered around the half-opened door. ‘You sent for Sergeant Green, sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s here, sir.’
‘He is?’ Cook’s face positively beamed with anticipation. ‘Excellent. Thank you, Chief,