Day 5 of a planned 12 day long range patrol, to recce an enemy route along a major ridgeline, deep inside the jungle of a country’s border in Asia.
It’s early morning and time to get ready for a “stand to”…out of my hammock, dressed, kit on, basha packed away, and sat on my Bergen before first light in case of enemy attack. Each member of the 6 man patrol doing the same.
But there’s something strange, we must be getting immaculate with our jungle routine, perfect in fact (that is never the case, we’re human after all), as I can’t hear the others going about their morning routine in the dark whatsoever.
Anyhow, we all have trust amongst our patrol, so I get on, feeling my way through every item of kit as this particular morning is pitch black. I count each bungee as I take down my basha and roll everything up and place each item into my Bergen. Trying my level best to ensure the least bit of ground and top sign is left when we depart.
As I sit on my Bergen, rifle with safety catch to fire, I cover my arc while slowly, slowly the jungle wakes, the noises increase, and the plants and trees come into focus from nothing, to black, to colours of green, brown and yellow.
That’s when I take a look over my shoulder to see the rest of my patrol…yet I see nothing!
No one sitting covering their arcs. No one still left lying in their hammock (which would be unheard of).
Am I alone?
I await the allotted time to ensure that there is no enemy follow-up, and therefore no enemy about to attack my position at first light.
I place my safety catch back to safe, stand up and step back into our night Lying Up Position area.
Apart from slight strap marks on the two trees that my hammock was tied to, and some ground sign of my own boot prints and pushed down vegetation and turned leaves where I had put down my Bergen, there is absolutely nothing else to show that a 6 man patrol had spent the night here.
Where’s my patrol?
I’m on my own.
The task is now compromised, I can’t move forward alone. I decided to move back along yesterday’s line of march to see if the Patrol has moved back to the patrol RV.
As I move back, it’s an eerie feeling to be alone, it’s even an eerie feeling to not know why I’m in this situation. I see the odd piece of ground and top sign from yesterday, but it’s only sign from one man. Tracking is all about fact, and the facts facing me are that only one man took this route yesterday.
I plant my jungle boot into a good, almost complete ground sign of a boot print into soft earth. My boot fits perfectly. I continue on until I come across a log that I remember stepping off to one side of yesterday. The log was sodden and rotting, I didn’t want to step onto or over it for fear of leaving more permanent ground sign that an enemy could see days later.
I found another partial boot print that would definitely be mine, around the side of that log. I step into it…it fits exactly. I spend time looking for other sign, after all we’re a 6 man patrol. After casting around, I see nothing.
I continue on to the patrol RV.
As I approach, I’m hoping in my mind that the lads are there before me. I’m waiting to be challenged, and to answer the password…nothing.
The RV is 3 large hardwood trees with wide butresses coming down from around 10 to 12 feet high. A great recognisable location, which is why it was picked, as we were on our line of march.
Behind the RV is a fast-flowing but shallow rocky river. As I go to the river with the intent of filling up my water bottles, I see a python, about 8ft in length, lying semi-curved on a sun-drenched boulder, just allowing the heat to transfer to its body. As I look at the serpent, I hear the strangest sound, given that I’m in the middle of virgin rain forest.
The river’s fairly noisy as it runs into and over the boulders. I look upward between the trees’ canopy, a natural separation due to the river. It was like I’m looking up to the sky and beyond for help…or an explanation.
Where is my patrol? And why can I hear vehicles passing by at speed over the far bank of the river? Or is the latter just white noise from the thrashing of the fast-flowing water?
We infiltrated by helicopter onto a stony island on a bend in an upper reaches’ river days ago. There is no road for many miles behind here…in fact, only rough vehicle tracks, definitely not a fast road, and those logging tracks are way behind where we infiltrated.
I take a good drink from my water bottle, then fill them both up, taking the water that’s running off a small rock. I lay my Bergen between some rocks on the bank and cross the river slowly towards the traffic noise.
Standing facing in the direction of the oncoming flow, I take small side steps towards the far bank…hoping that the traffic noise recedes, as it’s just the white noise from the fast river flow.
But instead, the traffic noise gets louder, especially when I rise up onto the far bank.
Through the trees and brush I see cars, lorries, and the odd bus…travelling fast in both directions on a hard-topped dual carriageway.
This was not here yesterday when we patrolled together as a 6 man grouping.
My heart wanted me to go out and flag a vehicle down…but my head told me otherwise.
I went back to the other side of the river, retrieved my Bergen, and sat on a rock in the sun. The python had moved on. I hope he or she isn’t as confused as me.
I placed my belt kit and rifle on top of my Bergen. I took off my jungle boots, socks and clothes, and I wandered into a pool between the rocks, and swam in the cool clear water. I stayed in there for ages…thinking through where we had all come so far… and what happened between falling asleep and waking up early this morning?
I felt weak and very vulnerable.
I climbed out of the pool, stepped over to my Bergen and kit…and lay on a rock to dry in the warm sunshine…just like the python.
I eventually fell asleep on the rock surrounded by warm swirling air…I was naked.
Startled, I awoke. Still naked, but in a king-sized bed with my wife in Ohio, USA…at 71 years old…with our female bull dog licking my face…it’s time for her walk.
Bob Shepherd 