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?’
‘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