‘What are you going to do when you get there?’
‘Well, as my military guru once told me, I’ll plan backwards from my aim.’
‘What’s your aim?’
‘I haven’t worked that out yet.’
The Indians had sensed something.
Stratton heard it too. The faint sound was like distant thunder. ‘Artillery,’ Stratton said and set off at a brisk pace.
Victor did his best to equal Stratton’s speed. Kebowa and Mohesiwa ran ahead, past Stratton, to take the lead.
As they reached the top of the next rise not only had the sound of the shells exploding got louder but they could hear the screaming noise of their flight through the air.
By the time they reached the bottom of the plateau where there was a small brook they were breathing heavily.
‘Please. Let me take a little water,’ Victor begged, dropping to his knees and drinking thirstily.
The Indians did the same.
Stratton decided it was a good idea and took a quick mouthful and wet his hair to help himself cool down. The sun had fully risen now and was heating up the air, intensifying the humidity after the night’s rains.
‘The shelling could mean they’ve not started the main attack yet,’ Stratton said. ‘I doubt they’re accurate enough for anything more complex. Let’s go.’
He moved swiftly up the hill and the others followed, Victor wiping his face with a handkerchief that he had doused in the water.
The stream of shells screaming overhead seemed endless.
The group made good progress up the hill, pausing at every little rise to make sure that the enemy was not the other side. Stratton felt sure they were near the final rise before the perimeter. When he saw the Indians flatten themselves on the ground short of the next crest he hoped that was it.
He crept forward alongside them to take a look.
His hopes were rewarded. The camp perimeter was the other side of the dip in front of them. But there was no sign of the government forces he expected to see lined up ready to attack.
A shell landed just outside the camp perimeter. That was why the government troops were not yet in position. They had no confidence that the gunners could keep their deadly firepower aimed accurately so that their shells landed within the rebel camp.
‘What do you think?’ Victor asked as he crawled up beside Stratton.
‘That’s the perimeter there, right?’ Stratton asked, making sure.
‘Yes. That’s it.’
Stratton looked all around to double-check for the presence of the enemy. ‘You ready?’
‘You want to go into that? Now?’ Victor asked anxiously, as a shell exploded on the edge of the perimeter in front of them.
‘When that stops the assault’ll begin and that’ll be even more dangerous for us.’
Stratton was about to get to his feet when Kebowa touched his shoulder and pointed to the extreme right of their position. Stratton had to move forward in order to see what he was indicating.
A line of government soldiers came into view, marching in single file along a track that ran parallel with and below the line of trees that concealed the rebel camp perimeter. Each man carried an assault rifle and had bulging ammunition pouches slung around his waist. Their number grew as they marched into view. By the time the column came to a halt Stratton estimated there were about two hundred of them. A runner made his way down the line and each soldier he passed turned and faced the slope that led up to the perimeter, stepped off the track and walked into the undergrowth for a few metres before sitting down.
‘They’re forming up,’ Stratton decided. ‘The shelling will stop soon.’
Another company appeared, marching in file along the same track. They carried out the same manoeuvre beyond the first company, with each man facing the rebel camp and moving a few metres off the track before getting down. Yet another company of soldiers appeared and marched past the second company to repeat the procedure.
‘Have you seen enough?’ Victor asked.
‘Of what?’ Stratton asked, studying the Neravistas.
‘To put you off ? You can’t get through those men.’
‘I told you, Victor. You don’t need to come.’
Stratton’s comment irritated the Frenchman. ‘How do you expect me to join my brigade if I can’t see how to get through those troops to them?’ Victor hissed, allowing his fear and frustration to surface.
‘I’m going to wait until they attack.’
‘Then what? Follow them into the camp?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Excuse my ignorance but that sounds crazy, even for you.’
‘It’s not ideal, granted.’
‘And you think you can see your plan working? You can see us getting through the Neravistas and joining our men - and then what?’
‘Shhh!’ Stratton ordered abruptly. ‘You hear that?’
Victor listened. ‘I don’t hear anything.’
‘Exactly. The shelling’s stopped. They’re going to attack.’ Stratton realised the Indians were confused by what was happening. He went back down the slope a few feet. ‘Victor,’ he said, beckoning him.
Victor slid down beside him.
‘I have my reasons for going into the camp. You have yours,’ Stratton said. ‘But you should tell your friends not to go any further. This is no place for bows and arrows.’
Victor looked at the Indians.
‘I’m going to get a little closer,’ Stratton said, making ready to go but pausing to look back at Victor. He squeezed the man’s shoulder, expecting this would be their final farewell, slipped over the rise and moved down the slope in a crouching run.
The Indians looked at Victor inquiringly.
Victor stared back at them. The truth was that he had not given any thought to their taking part in this conflict because he had never really expected to go into the camp during the battle. He wanted to tell the Indians that they were all leaving together for the border. But before he could say the words they jammed in his throat. He couldn’t do it. This wasn’t over for him. Not yet. That was his revolution the rebels were fighting for. But it was much more than that.
He crawled towards them. ‘My friends,’ he began, searching for the words. ‘Listen to me.You cannot come where I must go this time. What I do now is not like any time before.You cannot come with me . . . It’s time to say our goodbyes. Do you understand?’ he asked.
Yoinakuwa looked at Victor thoughtfully.
‘Please don’t make this difficult for me,’ Victor went on. ‘We have had a long journey together. You have suffered more than anyone should. Your sons deserve their future.’
The old Indian read the sincerity in Victor’s eyes and finally shrugged as if he accepted the Frenchman’s words.
‘Good,’ Victor said. He held out his arms to each Indian in turn and embraced them awkwardly - he had never displayed such a level of affection towards them before. ‘Right,’ he said, feeling uncomfortable, almost as if he were deserting them. ‘Good luck. It has been an honour to know you.’
Victor climbed over the rise and went down the slope in pursuit of Stratton, resisting the urge to look back.
Stratton reached the bottom of the slope and found himself on the same level as the Neravistas a hundred or so metres away. The undergrowth was thick enough to conceal him.
The shrill metallic sound of whistles suddenly filled the air. When Victor realised it was the enemy’s signal to advance he broke into a shambling run to join Stratton.
The whistles were accompanied by shouted orders and every soldier got to his feet, rifle in hand.
‘Fix bayonets!’ an officer called out. The order was passed down the line.
The soldiers removed the blades from sheaths on their belts and attached them to the barrels of their weapons.