Once he’s gazed upon her, a man is forever changed
– Lord Huron
The bravest men return with darkened hearts and phantom pain
Ages come and go but her life goes on the same
She lives to see the sun and feel the wind and drink the rain.
Queensland – June/July 1997
Christian had been an infantry officer for five years and in the army reserves for eight by the time he arrived at the Land Warfare Centre that winter. Queensland winters were a far cry from the icy mornings he was accustomed to in Canberra, where sub-zero temperatures turned breath into clouds and frost clung to every surface. Up here, the worst he could expect was a chilly 10°C overnight, maybe cold enough to see his breath one morning if he was unlucky. It wasn’t exactly skiing weather, but the mild climate was a welcome change from the biting cold of the capital. Still, Christian wasn’t here for a holiday. The Land Warfare Centre was a proving ground, a place where soldiers were forged and tested, and he was here to lead.
The camp was an operational exercise for an entire rifle company—roughly a hundred men drawn from various corps within the Brigade. It was a diverse group, including three women, a rarity in a rifle company. None of them were assigned to Christian’s platoon, so his interactions with them were minimal, limited to brief glimpses during mess hall gatherings or company-wide briefings. As their superior officer, Christian viewed them strictly as soldiers under his command, nothing more. His focus was on training, discipline, and ensuring his platoon performed to standard. Personal matters didn’t enter the equation.
His counterpart, Scott Hochmann, had a different perspective. Scott was the kind of officer who carried himself with a swagger that bordered on arrogance, his confidence spilling over into every conversation. One evening, as they sat writing orders under the dim glow of a field lantern, Scott leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial.
“Did you see the little blonde student in my platoon?” he asked, a grin spreading across his face.
Christian didn’t look up from his map. “No,” he said flatly. “They’ve always got hats on. Which one do you mean?”
“Pte Benaud! She’s so cute!” Scott’s enthusiasm was almost theatrical, like a schoolboy with a crush.
“Okay, what about her?” Christian asked, his tone neutral. He wasn’t in the mood for Scott’s antics.
“Man, I am so having a slice of that before we leave. Just you watch!” Scott’s eyes gleamed with mischief, as if the exercise was just a backdrop for his personal conquests.
Christian suppressed a sigh. Scott’s bravado was nothing new. The man seemed to think his charm was irresistible, but Christian had his doubts. Besides, he had no interest in camp hook-ups or the drama they inevitably brought. The army had strict rules against fraternisation—a deliberately vague term that essentially meant “keep your hands to yourself.” They were on a regular army base, not a reserve depot, and the brass didn’t take kindly to breaches of protocol. Christian had seen careers derailed over less. Whatever Scott got up to was his business, but Christian wasn’t about to get involved.
Pte Benaud, from what little Christian had observed, was unremarkable in appearance. Her short blonde hair, usually hidden under a giggle hat, and the shapeless camouflage uniform she wore didn’t exactly scream femininity. Add in the layers of dirt and camouflage cream from days in the field, and she blended into the sea of soldiers. She was a bit of a tomboy, Christian thought, but that was neither here nor there. What stood out was her performance. Pte Benaud was one of the best soldiers in the company—diligent, quick to learn, and utterly focused. She carried herself with a quiet determination that suggested nothing could distract her from her duty.
That impression was reinforced during a company briefing when each soldier was asked to stand and share something about themselves. Pte Benaud stepped up to the dais, her voice steady as she said she was studying biology at university. It was a simple statement, delivered without flourish, but it painted a picture of someone with ambition beyond the now. As she stepped down, she tossed a comment over her shoulder:
“I also like blonde guys with big muscles!” The room chuckled, and Christian took it as a light-hearted quip, maybe a deflexion to keep overly eager suitors at bay. He wondered if Scott had already made a move, prompting her to draw a line in the sand. Either way, it wasn’t his concern.
Christian had bigger things on his mind. His relationship with Beth, his girlfriend of nearly five years, was crumbling. They’d met at officer training, two young, ambitious people thrown together in the high-pressure world of military life. It had felt like fate. They’d even ended up working in the same office in Canberra, their lives intertwined both personally and professionally. But what had started as a passionate connection had eroded over time, worn down by a thousand small incompatibilities—different priorities, clashing temperaments, and unspoken resentments. If either of them had been honest with themselves, they would have ended it years ago. If Christian had been happier, he never would have let it start.
Midway through the camp, he called Beth from a payphone at the base, hoping to check in and maybe bridge the growing distance between them. Her voice was cold, final.
“I’m leaving you,” she said, the words hitting like a punch to the gut. A thousand miles away, in the middle of a training exercise, there was nothing he could do. He stood there, receiver in hand, staring at the cracked concrete floor, as the reality sank in. The life he’d built with Beth was now over, and even if he had seen it coming, the shock of the break was just as painful.
The camp didn’t offer much distraction from his personal turmoil. By the end of the first week of build-up training, the company was plagued by injuries—sprained ankles, heat exhaustion, and a few cases of dehydration. The two platoons were merged into one to compensate, forcing Christian and Scott to decide who would lead the combined unit in the field. They flipped a coin, and Christian’s luck ran dry. Scott took command, leaving Christian with a week of meaningless busywork — paperwork, equipment checks, and other tasks that felt like punishment for losing the toss. He’d come all the way to Queensland for this exercise, only to be sidelined. The irony wasn’t lost on him: if he’d stayed in Canberra, he might have been able to salvage things with Beth. Now, he had nothing but time to dwell on what could have been.
In the field, Christian was relegated to company headquarters, a makeshift setup of low tents and radios that felt more like a bureaucratic outpost than a tactical hub. With little to do, he spent most of his time with Greg, the company medic. Greg was a talker, the kind of guy who could strike up a conversation with a brick wall and keep it going for hours. He had a salesman’s charisma, always probing, always digging for a story. Christian found him exhausting but tolerable, deflecting Greg’s endless personal questions with practised ease. But one night, as they sat in the inky blackness of the Border Ranges, Greg’s persistence wore him down.
“So, Sir, do you have a girlfriend?” Greg asked, his tone casual and overly familiar.
Christian hesitated, the weight of Beth’s words still raw. Needing to unburden himself, he admitted, “I just broke up with my girlfriend. Beth. She ended it while I’m stuck out here.”
Though he could see nothing in the gloom, Christian imagined Greg’s eyebrows shooting up, and before Greg could stop himself, he blurted, “I know someone who’ll be thrilled you’re …” He caught himself mid-sentence, clamping his mouth shut as if he’d let slip a state secret.
“What do you mean?” Christian pressed, his curiosity piqued.
In the darkness, Greg shook his head, backpedalling. “Nothing, Sir. Said too much already.” His sudden reticence only made Christian more suspicious, but he let it drop. Greg loved to talk, but half of what he said was hot air, and Christian wasn’t in the mood to chase rumours.
The monotony of headquarters life was interrupted the next morning when the LWC staff decided Christian had been idle long enough. They pulled him and Steve, the company’s second-in-command, aside for an impromptu task. Handing them a radio and a map marked with a distant grid reference, the trainers announced they’d be doing an escape and evasion exercise. A crack infantry section of regulars would be in pursuit, they were told, and if caught, their gear would be stripped away piece by piece until they were left with nothing. The trainers gave them a quick rundown on evasion techniques, drove them a short distance, and dumped them in a muddy field with a twenty-minute head start.
The ground was a quagmire, their boots sinking ankle-deep with every step. Christian’s heavy pack pulled at his shoulders, and the mud made every movement a slog. Their footprints were impossible to hide—any pursuer would spot their trail in seconds. The so-called “crack infantry section” would run them down in no time. But Christian was done caring. The camp had already taken too much from him—his relationship, his command, his sense of purpose. He didn’t believe anyone was actually chasing them. The exercise felt like a ploy to keep him busy, and he wasn’t about to break a leg playing along.
He turned to Steve, who looked equally unimpressed. “This is pointless,” Christian said. “No one’s coming after us. Let’s just hide out in the bush for a couple of days and sneak back to CHQ before the deadline.”
Steve, ever the pragmatist, didn’t need convincing. “Fine by me,” he said with a shrug. They found a dense patch of scrub, set up a discreet camp, and waited out the clock, moving only under cover of darkness to avoid detection. It wasn’t heroic, but it was practical.
When they finally returned to company headquarters, the commander tasked Christian with guiding the platoon back to camp after its last operation. He rendezvoused with them outside the perimeter, where Scott was briefing his section leaders. As Christian scanned the group, he noticed one soldier—Pte Benaud—staring at him. Her gaze was steady, unflinching, cutting through the chatter of Scott’s briefing. She wasn’t listening to a word Scott said. Christian met her eyes, unsure what to make of it. The moment stretched until he wondered if he was imagining things.
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