BRYCE PARKED NEAR THE Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) Base Townsville, a forward operating base located northwest of the thriving city. Among several military units and squadrons, this is also home to Combat Survival Training School where he learned his skills of evasion and escape. But the RAAF Base wasn’t his destination, rather a small, nondescript bar not far from it. He jogged the rest of the way and knocked on the glass door.
‘We’re closed,’ hollered an old man from behind the counter.
Bryce called the land-line. The cranky man huffed as he picked up the phone.
‘Tommo, it’s Bryce, here to see Emily.’
The old man smiled and said, ‘Why didn’t you say so ya mug.’
A leathery man, himself a former SAS, opened the door. They hugged warmly.
‘She’s just out the back sorting some pape
