The men formed a line a short way down from the crest, lying or kneeling behind what little cover there was. Silence descended as they settled into position. Marlo moved along the back of the line, whispering words of encouragement.
Two men came over the crest from behind Stratton and made their way towards the far end of the ambush line. Their rifles were slung over their shoulders and they were each carrying one of the newly delivered 66mm-rocket launch tubes.
Stratton wondered whose idea that had been. As he understood it, the rebels didn’t know how to fire them. He looked around for Victor but he was nowhere to be seen. The two men moved out of sight beyond the trees and, unable to resist seeing what they might do with the rockets, Stratton followed them.
The two rebels joined the end of the ambush line, where Victor was craning his neck to see down the slope. On seeing the weapons he spoke to the men briefly. One of them extended his rocket tube, which readied it for firing. Perhaps he did know how to use it, Stratton thought. He seemed to have convinced Victor that he could because the Frenchman allowed him to take up a firing position.
Stratton took cover beside a boulder a few metres behind Victor who had gone back to looking for the enemy. The rebel leader suddenly jerked back behind his tree as if to hide. He made a hasty signal to those nearby that suggested he had seen something.
Down the slope Stratton saw the top of a tree move. He eased himself up in order to get a better look. A man in camouflage gear and carrying a rifle was leaning against the tree, digging something out of the top of his boot. He removed the offending bit of debris and continued on through the wood, more interested in watching his immediate footing than his wider surroundings. He was followed by another soldier and shortly afterwards half a dozen more men ambled into view. They chatted casually, rifles slung over their shoulders. More followed, one with a pack on his back that had a long whip antenna protruding from it. Their voices filtered up to the ambushers, each soldier clearly unaware that they were being observed so closely.
One of the rocket men lay on his belly, facing down the slope.The tube rested along his back and he pressed his cheek against its side so that he could look through the sight. The other man was having difficulties with the catch that had to be released for the tube to extend and he tugged at it in frustration.
Marlo had positioned himself in the centre of the ambush line and kept the men from firing until the enemy was in the kill zone. He raised an arm. When he dropped it he cried, ‘Fire!’ The sudden volley, a combination of single aimed shots and wild automatic fire, shattered the silence.
Victor moved back from the line a few feet: with just a pistol for a weapon he was not going to get involved. Stratton saw the imminent danger and leapt forward. He sprinted down the hill and as he grabbed Victor by the scruff of his neck and yanked him out of the way the rocket fired.
The missile shot out of the tube with a deafening roar as a long tail of fire erupted from its rear. The rocket struck the ground with a glancing blow, bounced skyward at a steep angle and hit a tree halfway up its trunk, which the massive explosion shattered. Burning wood splinters rained down. The top half of the tree, a large mass of heavy branches, came crashing down in front of the ambush line.
The bushes behind the man who’d fired the missile burst into flames - and so did his backside and the heels of his boots. He leapt up screaming, then fell to the ground rolling over and over furiously in an effort to put out the flames. The other rocket man immediately abandoned any plans to fire his own weapon - his partner’s fate was a dramatic warning.
Victor lay staring at a burning bush near where he had been kneeling and thought of the horrific consequences if Stratton had not pulled him out of the way.
A handful of guerrillas kept firing but most had left their positions because of the explosion and the falling timber.
The government troops returned a few rounds before they fled, shooting wildly behind them as they ran.
Marlo yelled at the few rebels who were still shooting to cease fire.
Victor got to his feet, shaking with rage as he looked for the rocket-firing rebel who had by now managed to put out the flames but whose clothing was still smouldering heavily. ‘You idiot!’ he shouted. ‘You told me you knew how to fire it.’
‘I did, but not how to aim it.’
Marlo stormed over, his face flushed with anger. ‘Who fired that rocket?’ he demanded, looking from Victor to the man.
Victor was not a vindictive person and although he was indeed angry with the rocket-firing man he wanted to protect him from Marlo who had a dark soul. ‘Shouldn’t we be more concerned about a counter-attack?’
‘The enemy have scattered!’ Marlo shouted. ‘But they should all be dead! Who fired the rocket?’
The smouldering rebel was beating his boot heels with his cap to stop them from bursting into flames again. ‘It was me.’
‘You damned fool!’ Marlo shouted, taking an aggressive step forward. The guerrilla, a proud peasant and former farmer with heavily muscled arms and shoulders, stood his ground and looked Marlo coldly in the eye.
‘It was my fault,’ Victor said, moving between them. ‘I am responsible. I said he could shoot the rocket.’
Marlo stared into Victor’s eyes. ‘Then you’re the fool,’ he said, a dangerous edge in his voice.
The Indian scouts arrived and Marlo faced them. ‘How many did we kill?’ he demanded harshly.
The old Indian held up three fingers as he looked at Marlo coldly. He obviously did not like the man’s tone.
‘Three?’ Marlo shouted as he moved away. ‘We should have killed all of them. I have joined an army of idiots. And that makes me look like an idiot,’ he said, pausing to look back at Victor. ‘I don’t like that.’
From at least one angle the attempted ambush had been a farce but from what Stratton had seen the rebels had been a match for the government troops, who were not professional soldiers either. But Marlo was right. Had it not been for the misfired rocket they would have killed a good number of them. The men hanging in the trees would have been avenged.
The rebels did not take long to reorganise themselves. The hanging corpses were placed in a single unmarked shallow grave. There were too many to take back with them and, according to David, they came from another camp too far away for them to be transferred. David also told Stratton that if the grave had been marked and any Neravistas came across it they would simply dig it up and hang the bodies again or maybe mutilate them even more brutally.
As the column started on its way again, Stratton stood to one side, his parachute bag in his hand. Considering all that had happened he was still uncertain whether or not he should leave them. According to his GPS they had covered twenty-three kilometres as the crow flew. He’d heard the rebels say that they would be at their camp by nightfall, which was only a couple of hours away. Having come this far he decided he might as well see the camp at least. Then he could give the guerrillas their weapons training and be on his way by mid-morning the next day.
This was a good enough place to hide the emergency pack and Stratton found a tree whose appearance and position looked sufficiently easy to memorise, buried the small pack at its base and cut a mark at eye level with his knife. He hit the waypoint mark on his GPS, which would get him within three metres of the tree, and typed in a name.
He hooked his parachute bag to a passing burro and joined the column.
Victor was subdued for the rest of the journey. When night fell the column continued moving with the Indians, who were adept at their task, guiding the rebels through the darkness. After a steep climb, traversing for more than a kilometre, they reached the summit of a hill and the glow of campfires could be seen in the distance. It was quite a sight. The sky was clear and the stars were exceptionally bright. It had been a long day: Stratton was looking forward to lying down and closing his eyes.