Uncommon Enemy Read Free

silent students.
    It was a pleasant crisp early spring day and during the lunch break with many other university students, Stuart sat in Albert Park munching on his mother’s sandwiches and discussing Sterling’s words with his close friend Brendan Ritter. Both young men had spent several years in the work force before enrolling at the university - having found the prospect of working their way up from lowly clerical positions in large corporations to be too bleak. (Due to his school success in mathematics Stuart had been urged by his father to take a clerical position in the Bank of New Zealand-“Good safe job, son”.) He and Brendan had met in their first year at a History tutorial.
    Lying on his back, Brendan gestured upwards towards the eternally motionless statue of the soldier above them.
    “He and his mates went off thirty-odd years ago to South Africa to fight the Boers. Didn’t do anyone any bloody good. Our chaps thought they were fighting a noble war for Queen and country but wound up fighting farmers like themselves. War solves nothing. Waste of bloody time. Look at the last show.” He accepted the cigarette that Stuart proffered. “Tell you what, mate; if they want me to enlist they’re wasting their bloody time!”
    Stuart drew deeply on his cigarette.
    “Dunno. Prof. Sterling’s got a point. This is more than just another war. Hitler and his mates are a direct threat to peace and democracy. Yeah, I know,” he went on rapidly, seeing Brendan’s lip begin to curl, “sounds very noble and all that. But at times we have to defend what’s right. If we don’t-------.” He stopped abruptly. “What’s so damned funny? I’m serious!”
    Brendan’s look of scorn had slowly metamorphosed into a sly grin, as he directed his gaze over Stuart’s shoulder. Quickly his eyes flicked back to Stuart, his eyebrows lifted and he nodded briefly. Puzzled, Stuart looked round.
    “Hullo, Stuart.” Standing on the path was Carol Peterson.
    “Carol.” Moving swiftly to his feet he flicked his cigarette away. “What are you doing here?”
    “It’s a public park.” She smiled. “I sometimes walk along to have lunch here. Do you?”
    “Yes.” He returned her smile. “Yes I do.”
    “Introduce me, old chap,” murmured Brendan his eyes fixed on Carol.
    “Oh, yes, sorry. Carol, this is Brendan. Brendan, Carol.”
    “Enchante, m’selle,” murmured Brendan rising to his feet and reaching for her hand.
    Stuart recovered himself. “Brendan’s done a French paper. It’s his subtle way of letting you know.”
    “Yeah, well it’s better than reading about long dead people!” He gestured flamboyantly. “History is the past, French is the future!”
    “Maybe, mate. But I’d rather be in Auckland studying Maths and History than in Paris waiting for the Germans.”
    “Wouldn’t worry me,” he responded, slowly letting go of Carol’s hand. “I speak that language even better.”
    Seeing Carol gazing at both of them uncertainly, Stuart shrugged. “Sorry, we’re often like this.” His smile was warm. “Do you often come to Albert Park?”
    “Yes, like I said.”
    “Of course.” He smiled expansively. “Glad you decided to come today. Have you had lunch?”
    “I’ve brought my own.” She indicated a brown paper bag. “How about you?”
    “Sadly we’ve already eaten, m’selle,” interposed Brendan with an exaggerated Gallic shrug.
    “He has, but I haven’t quite finished mine. You’d be welcome to join me.” Emphasizing the last word he gave Brendan a long hard stare as he peeled off his blazer and spread it on the grass. “Here, sit down, Carol.”
    “He studies History, you know. Sir Walter Raleigh is one of his favourite characters,” murmured Brendan taking a final drag on his cigarette and making a show of flicking the butt towards the statue of Sir George Grey. He grinned at Stuart and patted the pockets of his blazer.
    “Seems I’ve run out of smokes. Lovely to have met you,