It had been a bulkier than usual airdrop as by then most of the men’s canvas jungle boots, never strong items, were torn and apart from being easy for leeches to get inside, were unsuitable except on flat ground. Another marker balloon had been sent – let them fly one off their own bat, thought Jason sulkily – and, because they were higher up, so colder than usual, Jason allowed each man to have his own bottle of rum – he never touched the stuff – as an evening tipple of rum and a handful of heated up tiny prawns was by now the men’s traditional and only
relaxation.
After moving off from the airdrop, patrols picked up tracks for at least ten men, one who was limping, moving north-easterly. They heard a helicopter to their southwest, most likely carrying the bomb disposal team and escort.
It had been four days since they had heard the palm tree being cut. At his orders the night before Jason had stressed that he did not expect to catch up with the daku easily or quickly, so movement, now that the tracks had been found, need not be as slow as if they were near. The jungle was prime, the trees tall and undergrowth scant, so tracking was done by ground signs, not top signs. Some of the former are foot and boot marks, bruises or ‘bleeding’ roots, disturbances of insect life, mud left from footwear, while some of the latter are broken twigs or bent leaves, scratches, cuts, bruised moss or handholds on trees, big spiders’ webs with spiders as big as a clenched fist, broken, changes in colour and natural position of vegetation.
Halfway through the day the tracks were lost so a halt was called and more patrolling initiated, this time the ‘fan’ method, even though going sideways across the grain of the high ground was a penance and left traces as feet slipped. ‘They are skilled operators and know their jungle lore backwards,’ Jason said. ‘They are as keyed up to danger as are wild animals.’
That evening 2 Platoon and 3 Platoon reported tracks. Each had taken a compass bearing of the axis and they were 15 degrees apart. The white map was no use for showing any high ground where there might be caves to hide in or swift rivers difficult to cross. Corporal Kulbahadur said, ‘Saheb, I have an idea. It is just possible that those tracks are decoy tracks leading us away from their real position. One lot of tracks was moving at 12 degrees and the other at 27. They were more obvious than normal. Suppose the main axis is 18 or 19 degrees and tomorrow, say, those radial tracks will merge. All those angles are difficult to follow exactly on a compass as none has a thick black line opposite it.’
Listening heads nodded appreciatively. ‘The only problem is what will the middle group do to get the other patrols back? They don’t have any radio.’
Jason stared with a ‘thousand-yard’ look in his eyes, trying to envisage how to react to what Kulbahadur was suggesting. Even if he was wrong in his estimation, ground would be covered so any tracks could be picked up. How long before tracks had been made could often be gauged by the state of the bent foliage that had brushed against: the dryer it was, the longer the time of movement had elapsed.
‘I know it’s unpopular but an early meal tomorrow.’ He looked up and saw disappointed faces. Gurkhas are not ‘good’ early eaters. ‘Cancel that. Start cooking at 0430 hours and carry your food in your mess tins to eat later. We’ll move after our morning brew. Full water bottles.’
They stopped at their normal meal time. ‘Saheb,’ Jason said to his 2ic. ‘Get the men to fill their water bottles at the next stream but not, repeat not, wash out their mess tins in it.’ The Gurkha Captain looked at Jason quizzically but said nothing. The saheb never gives an order without a reason. ‘Let us say, Saheb, that the daku smelt the balloon stuff in their water downstream from us. I ordered that it be thrown into the water to keep the smell from the land. I’ve learnt my lesson the hard way. Just suppose they are not far away downstream and again smell us through their water before we have a chance to deal with them?’ Recognition came into the Gurkha Captain’s eyes. ‘Maybe I am too cautious but …’ and he left the rest of his sentence unsaid.
At two in the afternoon the leading scout stopped and, with a hand signal, called his platoon Sunray forward. ‘Look, tiger tracks.’ At that very moment a tiger was heard calling not so far away. Jason was sent for. Looking at the tracks he was doubtful but, so that any suspicion could be resolved, he sent for Kulbahadur.
The corporal silently came up and Jason pointed to the ground. With obvious glee he said, ‘Saheb, that tiger is moving backwards! Look,’ and, moving in front of it, he turned and, bending down, splayed his fingers over it. They fitted nicely. ‘The end man is turning and making them.’
‘But the roaring?’
‘Saheb,’ he grinned wolfishly, ‘if you practised, you could do better!’
‘So the noise and the fake tracks are the guide to get the other patrols back on course?’
Another huge grin and a nod; ‘Yes.’
‘That means they can’t be far away.’
‘Saheb, let me take one man and I’ll find out just where they are. It shouldn’t take us too long.’
Jason allowed that and told the others to take up all-round defence positions while they waited for the two men to make their recce and return, which they did within the hour.
‘We have found out where they are and their tactics. With the tiger tracks behind them they moved downhill to a large stream and before they went into the water, they turned round and went in backwards. The prints of the balls of their feet were deeper than their heel prints.’
‘Very well done, Kulé,’ Jason congratulated him, thinking that if his work so far didn’t deserve a medal, what did? He remembered what the CO of the Nepalese battalion he had been seconded to, to teach sniping, during the war in Burma had written about one of his men: ‘He is not a man but a superman.’ So is Kulé.
‘I am sure we would have been successful if we had not been ordered to use that marker balloon. You think the same, don’t you?’ Jason asked his platoon commanders at that evening’s ‘O’ Group.
Yes, they did.
‘What if we find the daku in their camp this time? Go through that balloon and bombing all over again?’ and he answered his own query with a Gurkha saying, ‘In the house, uncle die; in the trap, fish to fry.’
The CSM added his own adage, ‘Monkey’s tail, neither walking stick nor weapon,’ untactfully referring to the failed bombing raid.
His 2ic and platoon commanders pondered on those unexpected words of wisdom. ‘So, Saheb, what is your answer?’ one of them asked.
‘Report that we have found a camp and attack it is the second thing I’ll do, though, in fact, calling in the bombers is the second last thing I’ll do. I’ll send Corporal Kulbahadur Limbu and his squad to find out exactly where the daku are hiding. Once we know that, I’ll send two platoons behind the camp to lay a linear ambush on one side of the stream and the third platoon to open fire from in front but not attack. That will make them run away into the ambush. As they will only have been there a short time there won’t be any proper defence positions so that will make our task easier. My report will be correct, that we laid an ambush for them and it was successful, although of course until we have killed or captured them we cannot say we have had
success.’
They talked around that and found they liked it.
‘Saheb, shall I go now?’ asked Kulbahadur.
Jason looked at his watch. ‘No, I don’t like the idea of even you moving through this type of country at night. Go first thing tomorrow. The remainder will stay here until you return and then I’ll confirm my orders.’
Unusually, the place where they had stopped was relatively open, with no tall trees for a hundred or so paces. Jason looked at it with a practiced eye and thought, if we do have casualties we can quickly make this into a touch-down, not a hover, LP.
By noon on the morrow Kulbahadur returned. He and his men looked strained, as well they might, as doing any recce in such a roundabout manner is never easy. But there was an exultant smile on his face. ‘Saheb, the camp is not far away. There are good ambush positions on either side of the stream on the far side of their camp. We know they won’t want to stop and fight it out like they used to a couple of years ago so your idea of frightening them away means they can only escape downstream.’
‘I fully agree, Kulé. I can now plan my orders with confidence.’
Jason called for his ‘O’ Group: ‘It will be a rough night for all of us. 1 Platoon will open fire from in front but not attack the camp. Flank sections move out at 0550 hours to be ready to move forward when I give our battle cry at 6 o’clock. ‘That means lying up just out of earshot of it. 2 and 3 Platoons will move to take up positions along the stream, giving the camp site a wide berth. If anyone snores, his mate must wake him. Insect repellent can be used as the stream flows down from the camp so any smell will go downstream so 1 Platoon upstream will be the mosquitoes’ and the leeches’ overnight meal.’
Details were discussed and commanders quizzed as to exactly what to do. ‘You will decide, 2 and 3 Platoon Commanders, among yourselves, where to lay the ambush, which platoon will be ahead and which behind. Place the men in pairs, not singly. No following of any daku over the stream if he tries to escape. Let the LMG team look after anyone who tries his luck that way.’ After tea and biscuits, much quicker than cooking a meal, away the ambush group went, as quietly and slowly as ‘a moving
ambush’.
‘Sig-nel,’ softly called Jason after the last man had disappeared, ‘Open your set and I’ll give you a message to send in key. While the radio operator was hanging his aerial Jason wrote: ‘Have good chance of ambushing enemy group. Will observe radio silence until earliest 0800 hours tomorrow.’
After the attacking platoon’s meal was cooked and eaten, by turns, well in the rear and to a flank of their position to prevent downstream air permeating the CT camp, Jason said, ‘We’ll move forward to near the daku camp just before dusk and lie low all night, 2 Section left, 3 Section right and Company HQ with 1 Section in the middle. When we attack tomorrow morning we’ll do it as we did in Burma against the Japs. I’ll shout “ayo Gurkhali chaaaaaarge” but give the daku time to bug out into the ambush and only then in we’ll go. By then the camp will be empty but we may have to shoot a couple of idle men.’
The older soldiers grinned at that.
At dusk 1 Platoon moved slowly forward, on a compass bearing of 18 degrees. Just before last light, talking in the camp was heard. Jason oozed forward and listening intently he heard whom he presumed was the Political Commissar congratulating the man who roared like a lion – ‘he says he has a sore throat’ – and the track layer – ‘he says he has a stiff back’ – and there was a muffled response of suppressed laughter. ‘No one can find us here. We are so safe there’s no need to put out any sentries. I know that that is against all orders but we have a long way to go tomorrow and our wounded comrade needs carrying so we all need a good night’s sleep.’
Creeping back to where 1 Platoon Commander was Jason told him what he’d heard. ‘Saheb, in a low voice pass it around your men.’
The other two platoons reached the stream half an hour before last light. 2 Platoon Commander, the senior of the two, moved with OC 3 Platoon and silently pointed out where the first two men of 3 Platoon would take up their positions, with ten to twelve paces between each pair, depending on the ground. Section LMGs were sited as the column slowly moved forward. The ambush would only be sprung when 2 Platoon Commander opened fire. Then every man would fire at an enemy target in front of him.
It was a long night for everyone. Chakré was by Jason’s side and, turn by turn, each nodded off. At 5 o’clock Chakré shook Jason and woke him. At a quarter past 5 Jason said to 1 Platoon Commander, ‘Saheb, if anyone has to go into the bushes, send him fifty yards behind.’
The ambush platoons were also ready at dawn. Could this, at last, be a successful ambush? They all hoped so. It had been an uncomfortable night and the men were keen for action. ‘Only fire after you hear fire opened,’ was passed down the line.
We’re ready!
When it was light enough to see, Jason looked left and right. Men were standing up, weapons cocked and ready. He signalled to move slowly forward and when he saw the camp he shouted ‘ayo Gurkhali chaaaaaarge’ and forward they went, keeping their line, shooting. ‘Shoot anyone you see in front of you,’ he yelled and once again, ‘ayo Gurkhali chaaaaaarge.’
In the guerrilla camp there was pandemonium. Daku standing orders were to sleep with pack and weapon always in reach. The Political Commissar and the Military Commander both shouted at once ‘move downstream quickest. Assemble only on a tiger call.’ The daku, rubbing their eyes and cursing, grabbed packs and weapons scuttled away precipitously … from in front, heavy fire was opened, by LMGs and rifles. Screaming and yelling reverberated. ‘Now move forward,’ yelled Jason, ‘but be ready in case any daku try to come back this way.’
Two men had taken up kneeling positions behind trees at the far end of the camp and saw two daku stumbling away in panic. Both were killed by the ambush.
One man lying in the camp was still alive so Jason went to look at him. ‘Who are you? What unit are you?’
