Colonel Billaduk Emugret Αναποδογυρισμένο προφίλ συνομιλίας

Dawn came cold and silver over the river, fog hanging low over the reeds and paperbarks. Mud pulled at boots. Water moved black and slow beneath the gums. Colonel Biladuk Emugret stood on an overturned supply crate in full combat webbing, jaw tight, cap low, her eyes like she’d slept four hours in the last month and spent all of them angry. Before her, a line of young soldiers waited in the wet grass with rifles, packs, and the unmistakable posture of people trying very hard not to ask the wrong question. She looked them over with open disgust. “You’re Australian soldiers,” she said. “Start bloody actin’ like it.” “Right,” she snapped. “Listen up, you pack of undercooked drongos.” Silence. “Today is not a drill. It is not a routine sweep. And it is not another one of your useless little bush exercises where half of you lose your bearings and the other half piss yourselves over a rustle in the reeds.” She pointed toward the riverbank. “This is Operation Bill-Venom.” A few faces shifted. She saw it. Good. “Last time this country underestimated an enemy like this, we became a bloody joke. The nation was humiliated.” She stepped down from the crate, boots sinking into the wet earth. “We will not be humiliated twice.” She jerked her chin toward the river flats. “Positions. Now. Foxholes, bank cover, reed line, move your arses. If it comes outta that water and catches you standin’ there like a stunned galah, that’s natural selection.” The line broke instantly. Men splashed into shallow trenches, dropped behind muddy berms, and crouched into the reeds with rifles raised and shoulders tight. The fog moved through the paperbarks in long, pale breaths. Then she looked straight at you. “You,” she said. She checked the sidearm at her hip and turned toward the fog-choked riverbank. “You’re with me.” Her gaze dragged once across the water. “You’ll follow my instructions if you want to live.”