Prince Peter looked across. “How
is he?” he whispered.
“Not too good sir. He needs a
doctor,” Roger replied.
“You are very good. Forgive my
bad manners. What is your name?”
Roger told him. Prince Peter then
asked who his friends were and then about the army cadets and the expedition
the boys were on. Roger explained the Duke of Edinburgh Scheme.
Prince Peter gave a wry smile.
“My people seem to have ruined your chance of completing your award on time,”
he commented.
“That’s alright sir. We can
always go on another hike. We go on expeditions like this a lot,” Roger
replied.
“I know the Duke of Edinburgh.
Perhaps I could write to him and explain that you have done far more than
required,” Prince Peter said.
Roger was both thrilled and
embarrassed.
“Oh sir!
That won’t be necessary. I’m
sure Captain Conkey will sort things out.”
“I will anyway,” Prince Peter
replied.
At that moment Graham returned
from his reconnaissance. He crouched near them. “We are right on the crestline
of the main range. The road goes over a saddle about a hundred paces that way
but we can’t cross there. A Land Rover is parked there with at least four
partisans in it. They have a radio.”
“Which way
then?”
Prince
Peter asked.
“Along this ridge northwards,
parallel to the road, then cross lower down,” Graham said.
“This cannot go on much longer.
Hauptman Ritnik is getting very weak,” Prince Peter cautioned.
Graham bit his lip. “Should we
split up? Some stay here with him while others go for help? I reckon Peter and
I could get down the mountain in two hours,” he said.
“I’d rather we didn’t separate,”
Inspector Sharpe replied. “Commander Simkin of the Federal Police will have a
grip on things by now. All the roads should have roadblocks on them and reinforcements
should be moving into the area.”
“It will be dark in a bit over an
hour,” Graham reminded him. With something of a shock Roger saw that it was
after 5pm. The thought of spending the night in the jungle was not appealing.
“Then we will just have to sit it
out through the night,” Inspector Sharpe replied.
“Hauptman Ritnik may not last
that long,” Prince Peter said. “He needs medical treatment urgently.”
Roger felt sick at the thought of
that. Hauptman Ritnik certainly looked as though he could die. His face was an
awful pasty colour.
Graham studied the Hauptman then
said, “We’d better get some hot food and drink into him. I’ve got soup and
coffee in my webbing.”
“Good idea,” Inspector Sharpe
agreed.
“Not here. We had better get
further away from these fellows and the road,” Graham said.
With an effort Roger and Stephen
got Hauptman Ritnik to his feet. Hauptman Ritnik was shivering all the time now
and was on the edge of delirium. Graham led off down a long spur which dropped
more steeply the further they went. Luckily the old timber track was relatively
open and they made good progress for half a kilometre.
As the ridge levelled off Graham
led them off the track for twenty paces to the edge of a steep slope. It was an
area thick with low palms and ferns. He indicated a relatively flat and open
area. “This will do. We won’t get any further tonight. Steve, take the
rifle and go sentry just out there where you can see along the track.”
They quickly cleared dead sticks
to make bed spaces. Graham unpacked his webbing and lit his hexamine stove. The
flame gave a very cheery glow in the dusk. Peter and the Prince made Hauptman
Ritnik comfortable and checked his bandages. Roger sat near Graham. As the soup
was heated the aroma made his mouth water. He wished he could have some and his
stomach grumbled in sympathy. No tea either!
Inspector Sharpe and DS Crowe
stood talking quietly, looking incongruous in their torn raincoats and soiled
business suits, their white shirts bright in the gloom. Roger felt very thirsty
but the only water was in Graham’s water bottles and had to be rationed and
shared. His share was only a mouthful. He wished he could do something to help
but there was nothing so he just sat and watched as Hauptman Ritnik was spoon
fed the hot soup by Peter.
Graham then heated water and
mixed a cup of strong, sweet coffee. This went to the Hauptman and the prince.
Prince Peter had not complained about his wound all afternoon but Roger could
see that he also looked ready to collapse. Next Graham opened a tin of meat and
heated it in a mess tin with some water. Roger knew he was selfish to wish for
any but he did.
Hauptman Ritnik appeared to
revive quickly with the warm food and drink in him. He thanked them and sat
back with his eyes closed. Graham cleaned his mess tins and packed them and the
stove. He took back his cup and began to wipe it.
There was rustling in the
undergrowth and Stephen appeared.
“There are men coming down the
track,” he hissed.
“At least three partisans.
They are
armed.”
Inspector Sharpe gestured to get
down. “Everyone lie down. Not a sound,” he hissed.
Graham swung on his webbing and
took the rifle from Stephen. The two policemen folded up their collars and took
out their pistols. Roger rolled carefully onto his front and peered under the
palm fronds.
Twilight had set in. There were a
few bird noises and the gentle rustling of the wind in the trees. Then the
unmistakable crunch of footsteps on the deadfall reached them. Roger glimpsed
movement through the scrub. Only 25 metres away! His heart began to hammer and
his mouth went dry.
‘What are the partisans doing
here?’ Roger wondered. They were obviously going slowly and searching but
surely they couldn’t be tracking in such poor light? Had they seen the glow of the
hexamine stove? Or smelt it? No. The wind was wrong.
Roger tried to steady his
breathing and cursed when his empty stomach suddenly grumbled. The partisans
were close now, near where the group had left the track. Roger saw a man with a
sub-machine gun. The partisans were moving quietly, ten paces apart, eyes
searching in all directions.
Then Hauptman Ritnik groaned.
The men stopped and went into a
crouch. Roger could just see the legs of the second one. They faced towards
him. Blast! Roger cursed silently but then Hauptman Ritnik groaned again. Roger
swivelled his head to look and saw that he appeared to be unconscious.
A metallic click which could only
be a safety catch coming off made Roger’s heart stop. There was a muttered command
and the swish of palm fronds as the partisans began to push into the
undergrowth.
A twig snapped. The men were only
twenty metres away. Roger tensed his muscles and held his breath. They were
sure to be discovered.
Inspector Sharpe’s voice suddenly
broke the silence. “This is the police. Stop or we shoot.”
Tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat
In reply a sub-machine gun
suddenly ripped out a savage burst. Roger clearly saw the muzzle flashes and
heard bullets crack overhead and thud into the trees. There were shouts and
another partisan also fired- a heavier weapon. It began to blast tongues of
flame over to Roger’s right.
Crack! Crack!
Inspector Sharpe’s pistol
replied. There was a shrill cry of pain, drowned out by more gunshots as DS
Crowe, Graham and the third partisan all began firing.
Roger lay flat on the wet leaves,
half-paralysed by fear, and half-fascinated by the flashes and noise. In the
semi-darkness the muzzle flashes flared bright red. The noise was stunning. It
seemed unbelievably loud. The echoes rolled across the valleys and up the
mountain slopes.
Cockatoos and other birds joined
in with raucous screeching. There were shouts and running feet and the shooting
stopped. Roger watched Graham change magazines. The empty one was thrust into
his basic pouch and a fresh one clicked on. He cocked the smoking weapon and
re-aimed. The reek of the acrid cordite fumes added to the conflict of senses
and emotions.
The partisans pulled back thirty
or forty paces and went to ground. There were metallic noises as they also
reloaded their weapons. From the sound of whimpering it was obvious that at
least one had been hit, almost certainly by the Inspector’s first shot.
“Anyone hit?” Inspector Sharpe
called quietly. A quick check revealed they were all safe.
“We had better get out of here,”
Graham said.
“It will be dark in a few
minutes,” Inspector Sharpe replied. “We can’t move in this stuff in the dark.”
“We will have to sir. If we stay
here they will bring up reinforcements and surround us during the night,” Graham
replied.
At that moment a voice called out
in heavily accented English,
“Hey
Australians!
We know where you are. You cannot escape us now. Give us Prince Peter and we
will spare your lives.”
The proposal caused a real clash
of emotions in Roger. Part of him grasped at the opportunity; part of him was
repelled by his own selfishness; and part of him disgusted by the whole tactic.
To make people betray others! What a cowardly thing to do.
Inspector Sharpe replied. “I am
Inspector Sharpe of the Queensland Police. Lay down your weapons and surrender;
or take the consequences.”
“Police!
Hah! Fool!” the partisan cried.
The sub-machine gun stuttered.
“Don’t fire,”
snarled Inspector Sharpe to the group.
“He’s firing blind. He can’t hit us except by sheer
bad luck.”
‘That’s me!’ Roger thought as he
hunched in a terrified bundle behind a tree.
Another partisan shouted:
“Surrender policeman! Give us the prince and you can go safe.”
There was another burst of firing
and then silence. The men could be heard talking to each other.
Inspector Sharpe spoke quietly to
Prince Peter. “Sir, you are in my custody as a prisoner. That means that Sgt
Crowe and I are responsible for your safety and well-being. We will not allow
them to harm you while it is in our power to prevent it.”
“Thank you Inspector.
But what about these boys?”
Inspector Sharpe glanced at them
in the dusk: “They can head off to safety if they like. In fact that is a good
idea.”
Graham shook his head. “No sir. You
need us; and we aren’t running out on you now. We’ve got to live with ourselves
later you know.”
“What’s
this
we?” Peter said with a grin.
“You can go if you like,” Graham
replied stiffly.
“Pigs bum!” Peter retorted.
“Let’s get Hauptman Ritnik up and get everyone out of here before their scaly
mates
rock up.”
“Can you navigate in the dark CSM
Kirk?” Inspector Shape asked.
Graham looked pained.
“Sir!
Cadets do it all the time. It’s a basic skill, but I
will need to use a torch to calculate the bearings and to set the compass.”
“Too risky.
Can you just get us out of this
area?”
“Yes sir. Due West for two
hundred paces should do.”
“OK, you lead. The rest of you
crawl quietly one behind the other. I will go second last. Crowe, you go last.”
DS Crowe muttered.
“Always me that gets the sticky end of the stick.
You wait
till I’m a Detective Inspector!”
It was almost completely dark by
then. There was just enough light to see the others as black shapes. Roger got
carefully to his hands and knees and crawled over to Hauptman Ritnik. He found
he was awake and sitting up, leaning on a tree. The voices of the partisans
stopped. There were rustling and crunching noises. They were moving.
Roger froze to listen.
Away, up the slope. He breathed
out, only to receive a shock.
A partisan’s voice called loudly
from closer to them, out on the track. “Give up Prince Peter. You cannot
escape. If you do not give him to us you will all die.”
The man’s sub-machine gun rattled
again, the darts of flame lighting up the jungle.
Crack!
DS Crowe’s pistol snapped a
return shot from over to the left. That drew a startled oath and another burst
of fire. Silence settled.
“Get moving!” hissed Inspector
Sharpe. “Close up and hold onto each other.”
Graham had stood up. “Roger,
carry the rifle. It’s on safe. I can’t hold it and use the compass.”
Roger took the weapon. He held it
at the ‘Shoulder arms’ to keep it close in to his side so it wouldn’t snag as
much. Behind him he could still hear the sounds of people moving away up the
track and decided it must be the wounded Partisan being helped away. The man
with the SMG was still there though. He called again, taunting and listening.
Slowly the group formed itself
into a line. “Grab hold of the person in front and don’t let go. If the person
behind you breaks contact stop and wait,” Graham ordered.