“Partisans!” Graham yelled. He rolled sideways and scrabbled in the wet leaves. His hands closed on one of the rifles placed there. Several more shots cracked past or thudded into the trees beside him. With frantic haste he brought the weapon to the shoulder, clicked off the safety catch and pulled the trigger.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Graham snapped three shots, then rolled the other way.
Near panic seized Roger. He dived flat, his whole being flooded with terror. So did the others, except DS Crowe who went into a crouch and squeezed off two shots from his pistol in quick succession.
“Into the trees!” Inspector Sharpe cried. “That way!” He grabbed Prince Peter and hauled him into the jungle. Roger scrambled on hands and knees behind the nearest tree. Graham sprinted across, grabbing his webbing as he passed.
Through eyes blurry from fear Roger looked anxiously around. He looked back and saw that the Hauptman was crawling to join them. “Hauptman Ritnik!” he cried. Fearful lest he be hit again Roger scuttled out and hauled him under cover.
Bullets began to thud into trees around them. One struck the Land Rover with a metallic whang! Others cracked past along the road. Roger could see no partisans but he could hear shouted orders from about fifty metres down the slope. By then his heart was hammering hard and he was almost frantic with fear.
Inspector Sharpe turned to Graham, who now lay facing down the track in a fire position behind a tree. “How many?” he queried.
“I saw three sir. But I reckon twice that many from the sound,” Graham replied.
Inspector Sharpe looked around at them. “Is everyone OK? Is anyone hit? No? Good. OK, let’s get out of here. Crowe, you lead. Go that way,” he instructed.
“Sir,” Graham called. “That is west. Atherton is the other way.”
“I bloody well know that. But it is too dangerous to cross back over that road; and we can’t go north because there are more of the bastards that way. Now move! I will come second, then the prince. You kids help the Hauptman. Kirk, bring up the rear. And for Christ’s sake don’t shoot anyone if you can avoid it.”
“Particularly us,” Peter added.
Graham sniffed at this implied doubt as to his ability and moved into a kneeling fire position. He placed the rifle down and hauled on his webbing, then picked the rifle up again and began to carefully scan the jungle.
Prince Peter pointed back. “My briefcase!” he cried in alarm.
“I have it,” Inspector Sharpe replied.
“Please, I beg of you, do not let the communists get it. If they do, many good people will lose their lives,” Prince Peter said.
Inspector Sharpe nodded. “More secrets eh? OK. Crowe, get moving. Take it carefully. Angle up hill and away from the road.”
There were more shouted orders down in the jungle and Roger heard the sounds of men crashing through the undergrowth as fast as they could force a passage. The sounds were coming up hill towards them and also spreading out to their left. ‘If we don’t move fast we will be cut off!’ he thought. A sour taste of bile rose in his throat as the fear gripped him. ‘Trapped!’
Impelled by a desperate urge to get away Roger rose and helped Hauptman Ritnik to his feet. The Hauptman was so unsteady that Roger feared he would collapse but he started walking after the others. Roger followed. A glance behind him showed Graham following. Twenty paces brought them to the side road going west. It was an old timber road but had been used recently and was a clear path. It curved around the gentle slope.
Inspector Sharpe pointed along it. “Get out on this track. Go left and run,” he called. “Don’t stop till I say; then get off the track on the right. Come on, move! It is our only chance to make a break. Go!”
They burst out onto the track and began to run. There were yells from down in the jungle to their left and a sub-machine gun rattled. Roger heard the bullets thudding into trees and one snipped a leaf just in front of his face. His whole body twitched and he ran faster than he had ever run before. He quickly caught up with Hauptman Ritnik, who was starting to stagger.
“Come on sir,” he called and grabbed the Hauptman’s arm.
There were three loud gunshots close behind. Heart in mouth Roger glanced back. It was Graham firing into the jungle from the hip as he ran.
They pounded around the curve, boots squelching in the wet leafmould. The group began to string out as Hauptman Ritnik and Roger slowed down. Inspector Sharpe looked back and called: “Halt! Hold it!” As they slowed he pointed up the slope to the right. “In there, quick!”
DS Crowe pushed his way into the undergrowth and the others followed. Graham stopped and went into a kneeling fire position behind a tree and waited till they were all off the track.
Bang!
Back along the track there was a loud yell of fear followed by voluble shouting in Serbo-Croat.
“That’ll slow the mongrels down,” Graham cried. Roger glanced back and saw him dash into the jungle behind him, a grin all over his face.
By then they were all panting for breath and the vines and ‘wait-a-while’ quickly combined to slow progress to a walk. To Roger it was like all of his worst nightmares. He wanted to run but his boots felt like they were made of lead, and vines kept snatching at his ankles and legs to entangle and trip.
After a few frantic minutes, when they had gone about fifty metres Inspector Sharpe called a halt: “OK. Stop! Now everyone keep quiet and listen. No talking,” he whispered.
They all crouched or leaned on trees, sweat pouring down their faces and chests heaving. Roger’s throat felt dry and hot. He wanted to be sick. He was very scared.
Voices were still calling out behind them, from on the track they had just left. Inspector Sharpe knelt down and said quietly to Prince Peter: “What are they saying?”
Prince Peter shook his head and beckoned Hauptman Ritnik. “My Serbo-Croat is not very good. The Baron will translate.”
‘A baron!’ Roger noted, looking at the Hauptman with even greater interest. ‘A real live baron!’ It was like seeing a Triceratops unexpectedly.
Hauptman Ritnik nodded. He said: “Several men are calling that we have run up here. Another is ordering them to follow. Now they are complaining that we have guns.” He grinned. “They don’t sound very keen. This boy here, the young sergeant major, has done good work.” He pointed to Graham, who flushed with pleasure.
Hauptman Ritnik’s face changed abruptly to ashen seriousness and he glanced at Prince Peter and bit his lip. “The leader has just reminded them that their mission is to kill your Royal Highness. He is now calling on them to report.”
Roger felt a terrible coldness around his heart. These men certainly meant business.
Hauptman Ritnik went on: “Now the partisans are being ordered to spread out along the road and to look for our tracks. Now they have seen where we turned off. One of them is telling the Comrade Squad Leader. That is bad news.”
“What? That they have found our tracks?” asked Inspector Sharpe.
Hauptman Ritnik shook his head. “No. That he is a squad leader. There are nine men in a partisan squad; and these are not the men who ambushed me. That means they must have a whole platoon in the area. I fear we are in most desperate trouble. They will hunt us like wild animals.”
Roger wasn’t sure who were the wild animals, they or their pursuers. Inspector Sharpe compressed his lips into a grim line and murmured: “We had better get moving. Have any of you lads got a map?”
“I have sir,” Graham replied. He clicked on the safety catch, then fished out his map in its plastic case and moved up to join Inspector Sharpe. Roger pulled his map out as well and showed it to Peter and Hauptman Ritnik.
Graham pointed to the map. “That way sir. North West.”
“Have you got a compass? I don’t want us to get lost in this muck,” Inspector Sharpe asked.
Graham nodded and hauled out his compass, still attached to his shirt by its nylon cord.
Inspector Sharpe nodded with approval. “Good lad. You lead. Crowe, take this rifle and bring up the rear. Have those fellows started following yet?”
Hauptman Ritnik again shook his head. “No sir. I think they are afraid to enter the jungle. There is an argument but I cannot make out all the words. I think it is about whether to wait for reinforcements or not. Now they are using a radio,” he explained.
“Fine. OK, off you go young Kirk. Keep it slow. And no noise from anyone,” Inspector Sharpe ordered.
They rose and began moving at a slow walk. Graham could not walk a straight line as he had to dodge trees, weave around fallen logs and thick clumps of wait-a-while. All he could manage was a general compass bearing. The course took them diagonally up a fairly steep slope which, even at the snail’s pace they were moving at, soon had them panting. Roger found he was sweating in spite of the cold rain drops and mist. His leg muscles quickly began to complain.
Each minute moved the group 25 to 50 paces further away from the partisans. Roger began to hope they would not be pursued but this was soon dashed as shouted orders behind them indicated that the hunt had begun.
“I think they are following our tracks,” Roger murmured to DS Crowe. He looked back and down and could detect a faint line of disturbed leafmould, bent leaves, scuff marks on moss covered rocks and tree roots and crushed deadfall.
“Not much we can do to avoid it,” DS Crowe replied sourly.
“Yes we can. We can ‘Break track’,” Roger replied.
“Break track? What are you talking about?”
“It’s something we learn in the cadets, to hide a camp in the jungle.”
“Tell the Inspector.”
Roger nodded and tapped Hauptman Ritnik on the shoulder. “Pass it on. Tell Graham, he is the CSM leading us, to explain ‘Break Track’ to the Inspector.”
The whispered message was passed up the slowly moving line. Roger saw Graham stop and whisper to Inspector Sharpe, who nodded. Back came the message: “Break track Right, fifty paces.”
“What does it mean?” Hauptman Ritnik asked.
Roger beckoned DS Crowe as well, then explained. “First we open out, from the rear, until we can just see the person in front and the one behind. Then, on a signal we all turn at right angles and walk fifty paces, being careful to leave no tracks. Then we turn left into single file again and close up on the front. That way, instead of one obvious track made by a group of people there are eight different tracks, all hard to find.”
The men nodded.
“We are moving. You stand still Sgt Crowe and we open out,” Roger said. The DS did so. Roger was scared now as he could hear the noises being made as their pursuers forced their way through the jungle. They sounded only about fifty metres away and were coming closer. A sharp cry of pain from one of the partisans made Roger grin with malicious pleasure. They were discovering ‘wait-a-while’!
There was a hand signal. Roger passed it on to DS Crowe and thankfully turned and began walking up the slope, watching carefully where he put his feet. He tried to avoid crushing any sticks or ferns or snapping any sticks.
The rain helped. Big heavy drops drowned what little noise they made; and all the leaves and twigs were soggy. Roger kept looking to his right, expecting to glimpse the advancing partisans. However, apart from some crashing and rustling in the undergrowth he saw no sign of them.
After about thirty paces he realized he had been concentrating so hard on not leaving a track that he had forgotten to count his paces. He kept watch on Hauptman Ritnik on his left. The Hauptman seemed to be angling away from him so Roger kept edging in his direction. He looked around continually, both to check that DS Crowe was still in sight; and for the first sign of a partisan. It took all his willpower to keep moving at a slow walk.
Several times Roger had to detour around clumps of wait-a-while and once he had to backtrack to go around a large mass of it. DS Crowe followed him and on the far side, on a steep slope studded with large moss-covered boulders and ferns, they found Stephen and Peter waiting. They signalled to them to turn left and close in.
The group closed up till Roger could see Graham again.
“All here?” whispered Inspector Sharpe.
“Yes sir,” DS Crowe replied.
“OK, keep moving.”
Graham led off again on the same compass bearing. This took them along the side of the mountain. Roger listened and was sure he could hear movement only twenty or so paces down the slope to his left. He strained his eyes but could see no-one.
For about twenty minutes they walked slowly along with no word spoken. The rain grew heavier and in under the tree canopy it was very dark and gloomy. Roger shivered with cold. They covered several hundred metres. Suddenly, far down to their left rear, there was a loud cry. They all stopped and looked that way. The man’s voice called again.
Hauptman Ritnik grinned. “He wants to know where his friends are. He has lost contact with them. Ah! There.”
Closer to them, but still off to their left rear, came an answering voice.
Inspector Sharpe nodded. “Keep moving. We must put more distance between us and them,” he ordered.
They resumed their slow movement. The compass bearing led them down into a vine-choked re-entrant. The sound of yelling faded in the distance. Roger began to relax somewhat but the effort of moving through the tangled undergrowth took all his energy. He felt very tired and hungry. At the bottom of the re-entrant was a small creek. By common consent they halted to have a drink. The rain stopped but constant dripping continued. Graham refilled his water bottles.
“I think we have lost them for the moment,” Inspector Sharpe murmured, pocketing his pistol.
“I think they have lost themselves, from what they were saying,” Hauptman Ritnik replied.
Inspector Sharpe nodded. “That would be easy in this country without a map and a compass. I hope we aren’t lost too. Do you know where we are young Kirk?”
“Yes sir, here,” Graham replied. He was clearly not amused. Roger knew he took great pride in being both a good bushman and a good navigator.
Inspector Sharpe studied the map and cleared his throat, aware of Graham’s resentment. “Which way do you think we should go?” he asked.
Graham pointed on the map as the others crowded around. “Well sir, it’s only a kilometre to open forest out to the west. We could walk out there and detour right around the jungle to either the north or the south. I would say go north, to where all these roads join up here, behind Mt Baldy.”
They considered this. “That is about ten kilometres before we get anywhere near a house where we might find a telephone,” Inspector Sharpe mused. “Wouldn’t it be better to go east down to these farms at Carrington? That is only about three kilometres and downhill.”
“Might be sir, but it is all jungle; and we’d have to cross the road,” Graham replied.
“More chance of them seeing us in the open country than of us being spotted crossing the road surely?” Stephen said.
Graham nodded. “Stay in the jungle then. Head North West up this ridge, then North east back up this crestline. We should be able to cross the road there,” he said.
“That’s what I think too,” Inspector Sharpe agreed. “There are about five kilometres of road and it’s got as many curves as a snake. These partisans can’t watch it all. They can’t have that many men. Are you up to a march like that Hauptman Ritnik?”
Roger looked at the Hauptman. He appeared very pale and was in obvious pain. A thin trickle of blood was running down the side of his face. He shrugged. “Don’t worry about me. Get His Royal Highness to safety; and the briefcase. You can leave me and come back for me later.”
Peter spoke up: “We could leave you all here and two or three of us, the fittest, could go for help.”
Inspector Sharpe considered this, then shook his head. “No, we will stay together. Are you confident of your navigation young Kirk?”
“Yes sir. But I will use map to ground and only use the compass as a guide or we will do a lot of up and down as any compass bearing is going to cut across more of these re-entrants.”
“If you reckon you can do it then OK. Let’s get moving. I’m getting cold; and there’s another bloody leech!” Inspector Sharpe plucked the leech from his sleeve and flung it aside. He glanced at his watch. “Not even midday.”
Roger looked at his and saw it was only 11:45.
Peter said, “Sir, won’t these partisans just clear out now they know the police are involved? Won’t your men be surrounding the area?” he asked.
Inspector Sharpe nodded. “You would think so but I suspect their political masters might have given them orders to get the prince, regardless.”
Prince Peter agreed. “You are right. They are playing for high stakes and a diplomatic row with a country as distant as Australia would be the least of their worries. While I live I am a rallying point for all Kosarians who believe in freedom. These men are just pawns. They are expendable.”
Hauptman Ritnik nodded agreement. “You are right Your Highness. The communists will have some hold over the men they have sent here, some way of blackmailing them. That is how they operate; by terror and coercion.”
“Who are these partisans?” Stephen asked. “Weren’t the partisans the guerrillas who fought the Germans?”
“Yes they were,” Prince Peter answered. “They were the army of liberation. They kept the name after the war because of its prestige value. They are now just the communist regular army, the Kosarian Partisans- KOSPARS for short.”
“This will be a special unit,” Hauptman Ritnik added.
Peter gave a wry grin. “Not too special if they’ve got lost,” he suggested.
“Perhaps they have been rushed here without any special training and without enough maps. Besides, all their experience will have been in pine forests. There is nothing like this jungle in Kosaria,” Hauptman Ritnik replied.
“How many of them do you reckon there are?” DS Crowe asked.
Hauptman Ritnik thought for a moment. “At least a platoon. That is thirty six men:- three squads and a HQ. Could be more,” he replied.
“How did they get here?” Stephen wondered.
Inspector Sharpe said, “Enough speculation. Let’s get moving.”
Led by Graham they set off up a steep slope thick with wait-a-while. They heard no more of their pursuers. The cloud thinned out and a watery sun could be glimpsed overhead. Roger began to feel hungry and regretted not having grabbed his own webbing. He had missed breakfast and now he would miss lunch as well!
After about two hundred metres they came out onto an overgrown snig track which ran up a spur line.
Graham pointed left along it. “It will probably go all the way to the top of this twelve hundred and eleven metre feature,” he said. “It will be easier going.”
“Not safer though,” Inspector Sharpe replied.
“Quicker and quieter. That is safer sir,” Graham replied. “There is sure to be an old track on the crestline running parallel to the main timber road.”
“OK. Go up it then but take it slow and keep your eyes peeled.”