Free Burning for Revenge by John Marsden Page A

seemed unable to move. Lee was really angry at him. At one stage he said: "Just leave him there. Let them have him." I was horrified. It wasn't the first time Lee had scared me. But this time at least I could understand his being so angry. I spent half the time feeling sorry for Kevin and half the time thinking he was gutless. I mean on one level I knew he had a big problem, like a medical or psychological problem, but at another level I was angry that he deserted us when we needed him most, leaving us to do all the work and take the risks. Of course when we were caught he would be too, but it was hard to see it that way.

    We all had goes at talking to him, trying different tactics, like sympathy, abuse, common sense, encouragement. I suppose the strategies we used said a bit about us. Fi was sympathy, Lee was abuse, I was common sense and Homer, to my surprise, was encouragement. But none of them worked. The only "progress" was that instead of ignoring us when we went into the truck he curled into a ball and started crying. That didn't seem like much of a step forward.
    So we just kept going with our plans, our vague half plans. My main idea rested on a bit of knowledge I'd picked up when I was little. Back when Homer was young and wild he'd sometimes have target practice with a rifle. But shooting at the usual targets, like tin cans or tree stumps, was too boring for Homer. To make it more interesting he filled the tin cans with petrol and sealed them again. I must admit I'd taken the odd shot myself, when Homer generously decided to share one of the cans. It was quite addictive. More fun than cleaning out sheep shit from under the shearing shed.
    What we'd learnt back then was now the basis of our plans. But they were still only half-baked ideas when suddenly we were dragged into action.

Six
    At 6 a.m. Fi and I were both awake. Kevin may have been, I don't know, but he was curled up in his corner of the van. Lee and Homer were asleep, stretched out near him. It was the first rest we'd allowed ourselves since being dumped in the hangar. We wouldn't have taken that if we hadn't been desperate, suffering from sleep deprivation.

    I took one more look at them, then closed the door of the van and went back to the lookout point. I was officially on sentry but Fi and I were sharing our turns, because neither of us could sleep. We were only doing an hour each anyway, as a four-hour break was all we could afford.
    Fi and I getting insomnia when we had a chance for some rest was typical of the tricks the war kept playing on us.
    The only interesting thing during our combined sentry duty was that a whole lot of aircraft took off at about 5:30. I'd say there were at least twenty. They took off in waves, three at a time as far as we could tell, roaring over our hangar. We felt the ground vibrate under our feet. I had to put my hands to my ears, the noise was so extreme.
    If that wasn't enough to wake the boys, then they were certainly awake by 6:01. A PA system ran through all the buildings, and at 6:00 it played a major piece of music that was obviously meant to get everyone on their toes, ready for another good day of bombing the stuffing out of anyone they didn't like. The music sounded kind of weird to me, but it was loud and military, so when you heard it you knew you weren't at a Brownies' camp.

    Next thing, we heard these trotting feet. It sounded like sheep on the wooden floor of the shearing shed. Fi was already looking through a spyhole; I leapt to mine. A whole lot of soldiers were hurrying past the hangar. They were all men and some of them looked very young. They carried rifles. Within a few seconds they were gone.
    By then Homer and Lee had joined us at the door. We looked at each other anxiously, wondering what was happening, what we should do. I said to Lee: "We've got to use this time. Take the chance."
    "I agree," he said. "I'm going to follow them, see what's going on."
    "All right," I said. "I'll check out the