Hearts and Minds

The soldier has a hangover. Too many Bundies the night before and no breakfast. Every time the ancient Toyota hits a rut his guts heave. The old lady with the Magpie beanie stares at him impassively. yard Air Dancer He could do with a snack from his ration pack but it might be rude to open it in front of these people.
　　The old man in the front turns around.‘You wan’eat goanna?‘ He chuckles.‘You white-fellas like bush tucker.’
　　Great. They’re going to stop off and go hunting before they drop him off at camp.“Don’t worry about me,”he says,“but I need to get back soon.” It isn’t exactly true. It’s Sunday, his one day off. No one would be missing him yet.
　　The Toyota lurches off the road into the spinifex. The soldier’s teeth rattle as it bounces and swerves. ‘Where are we going, bro?’He addresses the heavy-set young man behind the wheel.
　　The driver turns around.“Jila on this track, mate. See this big mob of bullaman. They after water.”He thumps his hands on the wheel in time to Slim Dusty.
　　The soldier sits back. He has no idea what the guy is yabbering about. If only Steve hadn’t taken the short cut to town and if only he’d stayed behind in the car with him when they’d hit the steer. But the sight of the writhing animal and all that blood had been too much and he’d taken off alone. Then these people had picked him up in their clapped out Toyota and decided to include him on their crazy family outing.
　　“You army mob make us new air field.”The old lady scratches her hair.
　　The soldier nods. He doesn’t tell her how much he hates the work. Grinding, relentless in the bloody heat. Hearts and Minds mission. Some Armchair General with a great sense of humour had named it that.
　　All at once the driver brakes. The old man jumps out and runs through the spinifex, his bandy legs leaping over the spikes with astonishing agility. His son follows him and they disappear into the scrub.
　　“Goanna.”The old lady smiles.“Good tucker.”
　　The soldier swats at flies as the sweat runs in small rivulets down his face. If he opened his ration pack now the old girl mightn’t notice. But what if she did? Would he have to offer her something? Better wait.
　　And it’s a long wait in the stinking heat with the red dust swirling around them. Then finally, when the hunters return, the old man is wearing a huge goanna like a bloody necklace.
　　“For you, soldier.”He chucks the carcass at the soldier’s feet.‘Give you plenty muscle.’Blood dribbles from the goanna’s mouth and the soldier retches.
　　The journey continues and, as he fixes his eyes on the shimmering horizon, he loses track of time. No point in referring to his watch any more. They’re travelling in a different time zone. It could be minutes or hours before they finally arrive at the river.