The helicopter dropped Logan and the SAS men in a small clearing in a pine forest high up in the mountains. They had been shown on a map the night before the drop location and the extraction point some fifty miles away, but they had no luxuries such as maps for the exercise itself.
They had five days to reach the extraction point. But the exercise wasn’t just about orienteering: it was about escape and evasion. The six men would be hunted. The trackers were another group of trained SAS soldiers. Starting from the same drop point as the evaders, the trackers would have simply their wits and their training to figure out where to go. The evaders would have a few hours’ head start and would have to use all their training and guile to stay one step ahead.
As soon as Logan’s feet touched the ground, he sprang into action and followed the other men into nearby wooded cover as fast as he could, cold air blasting into him from the helicopter’s rotors.
When all the men were on the ground, the helicopter ascended and moved off into the distance, its racket fading, replaced by a foreboding silence. Logan crouched down, huddling with the others.
The temperature was well below freezing. It likely would be for the duration of the exercise. Although the helicopter had been unheated and cold, Logan was already shivering from the sudden temperature drop now that he was outside. He knew it would pass as they began to march on, but it was a chilling early reminder of just how tough the next five days would be.
Each of the men had on basic army fatigues and overcoats. No rucksacks, tents, sleeping bags. Just their clothes and a survival tin each that contained little other than a basic penknife, a pocket mirror and a mini compass.
‘Okay, lads,’ Fleming said, ‘we move out quickly. They’ll be tracking us within a few hours so let’s move as far and fast as we can for now, make it difficult for them. Extraction point is south-east. Jones, Medway and Lewis, you head out twenty degrees east of that. Butler and Logan, you come with me – we’ll head out twenty degrees south of extraction.’
‘Yes, Captain,’ the five men chorused.
‘Always remember the basic rules. And we’ll try to align paths after forty miles, some point during day four probably if we keep progress steady.’
‘Yes, Captain,’ the SAS men said. Logan kept his mouth shut this time.
‘And if you get caught, they’re not going to be giving you a nice warm mug of cocoa. It’s straight to interrogation. And they won’t be holding back. So don’t. Get. Caught.’
‘Yes, Captain.’
‘Now let’s go.’
With that, the men stood up and split off into the two mini groups. Each of them, including Logan, understood the basic rules Fleming had mentioned. In fact, everything Fleming had said was as expected. The trackers would be using all of their skills and experience and would have dogs too. And Logan was sure Fleming was right when he’d said the trackers wouldn’t be holding back. They were all trained SAS soldiers. They had as much to prove as Fleming and his team.
Splitting into smaller groups was essential to make the trackers’ job harder from the start. Going off at a tangent to where they wanted to be would further complicate matters for the trackers and meant that within a few hours, the two groups of evaders would be some distance apart.
Logan adopted the rear position as he, Butler and Fleming began their march through the pine woods. He wanted to keep the others in sight at all times. It wasn’t just the trackers he was concerned about. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Fleming brought his bullying out into the wilds.
The woods were dark and sinister. Easy to get lost in, to disappear for good in, Logan thought with both promise and anxiety. The ground underfoot was mostly frozen with just small, boggy patches of mud. It did at least feel warmer in the woods than out in the blustery open.
The three moved on for close to six hours, taking five-minute rests every hour. The pine forest opened out along the way, leaving them in an icy wasteland with only the natural crevices and undulations of the mountains to keep them in cover. The ground all around was white. Even though it was riskier from a safety point of view, they tried their best to stick to the slippery ice patches rather than the deep snow, which would leave an obvious trail. It wasn’t always possible to do so, because the ice patches came and went at random, but it at least meant the trail left in the soft snow was patchy and erratic.
Rather than heading in a straight line, they zig-zagged across the terrain in order to map out a route that didn’t require never-ending ascents and descents, but also to further complicate their trail. It meant forward progress was slower, but was a necessary technique to aid evasion.
With darkness quickly descending, they finally stopped for a prolonged break. They found a large rock whose overhanging edge created a mini shelter that the three could all fit under if they sat tightly together with their backs to the stony surface. The rocky crevice also provided cover in just about every direction.
‘We’ll rest up for two hours,’ Fleming said. ‘Then get on our way.’
‘Shall we build a fire?’ Butler asked.
‘We’re going to need one out here,’ Logan said, huddling down into the neck of his coat. The shivering had already kicked in even though they’d only stopped moving for a few seconds.
‘It’ll take too long to make,’ Fleming said, ‘foraging through this crap. There’s not exactly an abundance of wood out here.’
‘We’ll get enough from the gorse,’ Logan said. ‘There’s plenty around.’
Fleming glared at Logan, clearly not liking being challenged even if what Logan had said was valid.
‘Plus we need water,’ Logan said. ‘We haven’t passed a stream or a tarn that wasn’t frozen solid in hours. We can use the fire to melt some snow.’
‘Fine,’ Fleming said. ‘Butler, go and find some stones. Logan, get the gorse. I’ll dig a pit up against the rock.’
It took Logan the best part of twenty minutes to collect the gorse. It was thick and frozen and full of thorns. His hands were blue from cold and covered in nicks and scratches by the time he’d finished. When he headed back to the rock, he saw that Butler and Fleming had already prepared the pit, over a foot deep, neatly lined with large grey stones.
‘What took you?’ Fleming said, sounding pissed off.
Logan ignored the question, just threw down the pile of branches and twigs he was carrying that would act as kindling and tinder. ‘This should be enough to get it started,’ he said. ‘But I’ll need to find some thicker branches if we want it to last.’
‘Okay,’ Fleming said. ‘But be quick.’
Logan headed off again and it took another twenty minutes of foraging to collect some thicker wood. He tried to remain alert to the sounds and sights around him as he searched – looking, listening, for signs of the trackers – but his senses were waning and he was quickly becoming groggy and listless from the combination of exhaustion, lack of nourishment and cold.
Eventually he found some dishevelled gorse that may or may not have been dead and snapped off the thorny branches, then used the penknife to cut the thicker base stems close to the ground. He took the pieces back to the rock.
Fleming and Butler were squatting in front of the pit, where they had already set the tinder and kindling alight. As Logan approached, he could hear the two men talking, but they stopped as he neared and stood up, facing him. Logan dropped the wood by Fleming’s feet.
‘Everything okay?’ Logan asked.
‘Just discussing tactics, that’s all,’ Fleming said, smiling.
‘Anything you want to let me in on?’
‘Guys,’ Butler said, holding up a hand, ‘I think I hear something.’
The three men stopped talking and instinctively crouched. Logan looked around in the darkness for any sign of movement.
‘Cover the fire up!’ Fleming hissed in a whisper.
‘It can’t be them, surely?’ Logan said, unable to see or hear any sign of the trackers. ‘We were moving too fast. Trying to follow our trail and with the tracker dogs sniffing around here, there and everywhere, they can’t have been going even two-thirds of our pace.’
‘Well, there’s something out there,’ Fleming said.
‘Shhh. There it is again,’ Butler whispered.
‘Probably an animal. An owl or–’
‘Just put the goddamn fire out!’ Fleming said, more loudly but still at a whisper.
Butler and Logan began to throw clumps of snow onto the newly lit fire. It crackled and fizzled, fighting for its life, but was soon buried deep.
‘There it is again,’ Fleming said. ‘Over there.’
He pointed off into the distance but it was pitch black. Logan couldn’t see a thing. He was squinting, straining his senses for any noise or sign of movement. But there really was nothing.
Then he heard Butler shuffle in the snow behind him. He started to turn to look, but fell forward when he was suddenly shoved in the back. Logan landed face first in the soft, cold snow. He tried to spring to his feet to stave off whatever attack was coming, but before he could, a boot was thrust into his back, pinning him down.
Logan turned his head and looked up at the shadowy figure of Fleming, his grinning face caught in the dim moonlight.
‘Sorry about that, Boy Wonder. Had you going there for a second, though, didn’t I?’
Fleming’s gaze turned to a point behind Logan and he nodded. Logan followed his line of sight, but the only reaction he could manage as he saw the rock swinging toward his head was to squint and turn his head away.
The stone cracked against the side of Logan’s face, sending a shock wave right through him.
‘See you at the finish line,’ Fleming cackled, just a few seconds before Logan passed out, face down in the powdery white snow.