away from him and spoke to Major Pryce-Jones instead. ‘Will we be engaged only in jungle-edge patrols?’
‘No,’ Captain Callaghan replied after receiving the nod from Pryce-Jones. ‘It’s true that in the past we’ve avoided deep-penetration raids, but because of the increasing success of our food-denial operations, the CT are now heading deeper into the ulu. Unfortunately for them, in order to grow their own food they have to fell trees and make clearings. As our Company Commander has rightly pointed out, such clearings can be spotted from the air, which means they’re vulnerable to attack. We’ll therefore attack them. We’ll do so by parachuting – or tree-jumping, which you’re about to learn – into a confined Dropping Zone near the area. Then we’ll place a cordon around the clearing. It won’t be easy and certainly it will be dangerous, but in the end we’ll win.’
‘We’re going to parachute into the jungle?’ Alf Laughton asked, sounding doubtful.
‘Yes,’ Captain Callaghan answered. ‘If I can do it, anyone can do it – and believe me, I’ve done it.’
‘Is that one of the things we’ll learn in Johore?’
‘Correct,’ Callaghan replied.
‘I can’t wait,’ Pete Welsh said sarcastically. ‘The top of a tree right through my nuts. I’ll be back in the boys’ choir.’
‘Assuming that Trooper Welsh doesn’t lose his precious nuts on a tree,’ Sergeant Lorrimer said, ‘and we all make it down to the DZ in one piece, what problems can we expect to find in that terrain?’
‘Most of the country is dense and mountainous jungle,’ Captain Callaghan replied, ‘considered habitable only by aboriginal peoples, such as the Sakai. The hill contours make for steep, slippery climbs, while the routes off the paths are dense with trees that can trip you up and break your ankles. Nevertheless, as the few paths are likely to be mined or ambushed, you’ll have to avoid them and instead move over uncharted ground. The terrorists have a network of jungle informers and will be using them to keep track of your movements, which will help them either to attack or avoid you. Finding them before they find you won’t be made any easier by the difficulties of navigating in the jungle. You will, however, be aided by Dyak trackers, Iban tribesmen from Sarawak, all experts in jungle tracking and survival.’
‘We go out in small patrols?’ Dead-eye said.
‘Yes. Three- or four-man teams. In the words of the founder of the Malayan Scouts, Lieutenant-Colonel Calvert: “The fewer you are, the more frightened you are, therefore, the more cautious you are and, therefore, the more silent you are. You are more likely to see the enemy before he will be able to see you.” We abide by those words.’
‘What’s our first, specific mission?’ Boney Maronie asked.
Callaghan stepped aside to let Major Pryce-Jones take the centre of the raised platform and give them the good news.
‘Aerial reconnaissance has shown that the CT are growing food in a clearing in the Belum Valley, a remote, long mountain valley located near the Thai border. That valley will be searched by Gurkha, Commando and Malaya Police patrols, all moving in on foot, which should take them five days but gives them the advantage of being more difficult to spot. You men will form the stop, or blocking, party, parachuting in a day’s march from the RV. This operation will commence once you’ve completed your extensive jungle training in Johore.’
‘When do we leave, boss?’ Dennis the Menace asked.
‘Tonight.’
The camp in Johore was a primitive affair, shared between Gurkhas, Royal Marines, RAF, British Army REME, Kampong Guards from the Federation of Malaya Police and SAS personnel. Hastily thrown together in a clearing in the jungle, it was surrounded by coconut palms, papaya trees and deep monsoon drains, with rows of wood-and-thatch barracks, latrines, open showers, a mess hut, armoury, quartermaster’s store, motor pool, administrative block, NAAFI shop, airstrip for fixed-wing aircraft and helicopters, and a centrally located ‘sports ground’ with an obstacle course at one end, used for everything from weapons training to Close Quarters Battle (CQB) and unarmed combat.
‘They don’t even give us one night in Penang,’ Alf Laughton complained as they were selecting their camp-beds and settling into the barracks, ‘and now they plonk us down in this dump. A diabolical liberty!’
‘More dust, heat, flies and mosquitoes,’ Dennis the Menace said. ‘Welcome to Paradise!’
‘You know why these barracks are raised off the ground, don’t you?’ Pete Welsh asked rhetorically, having the answer all prepared. ‘Because this place is crawling with scorpions, centipedes and snakes, every one of ’em poisonous.’
‘It’s crawling with everything except women,’ Boney Maronie said, ‘which is why they should have given us at least one night out in Penang. I think I’m getting ready to explode. I’ll drench the whole fucking ceiling.’
‘Boasting again,’ Dennis the Menace said. ‘You haven’t really got it in you. But that obstacle course out there looks like hell. A few runs over that fucker and you’ll soon get rid of all your excess energy. By the time you’ve finished, you won’t remember what a woman is, let alone what she feels like.’
‘Tree-jumping,’ Dead-eye said. ‘That’s what bothers me. Those trees are 150 feet high and pretty damned dense. I don’t fancy climbing those with a bergen, rifle and knotted rope, let alone parachuting into them.’
‘Piece of piss,’ Pete Welsh said, his grin making him look slightly crazy. ‘You just spread your legs and get spiked through the balls by the top of a tree. If you miss that, you crash down through the branches and get all smashed to hell. Failing that, you snag your chute on the branches and possibly hang yourself. Sounds like a joyride.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Alf Laughton said.
Once settled in, the men were gathered together in the briefing room, given a brief lecture on the history and habits of the jungle natives, told not to call them ‘Sakai’, which meant ‘slave’, and informed that they would be receiving a two-hour lesson in the native language every day. The first such lesson began immediately and was very demanding.
When it had ended, at 10 a.m., the men were allowed a ten-minute tea break, then marched to the armoury, where they were given a selection of weapons, including those fired on the range of Minden Barracks: the M1 0.3in carbine, the 9mm Owen sub-machine-gun, the 7.62mm semi-automatic SLR and the Browning 9mm High Power handgun. They were also given a Fairburn-Sykes commando knife and a machete-like parang.
Having already tested the men’s skills on the range at Minden Barracks, Sergeant Lorrimer knew precisely who was best at what and distributed the weapons accordingly, with the Owen sub-machine-guns going to those he was designating as scouts, or ‘point men’, in his patrols.
‘Here,’ he told the men assembled outside the armoury in the already fierce heat, ‘you won’t have to sign the weapons in and out. Instead, you’ll keep them with you at all times, either on your person or in your lockers. If any man loses a weapon or ammunition he’ll be RTU’d instantly.’
From that moment on, though the men were trained together,
