Manus Xingue by Jack Challis

Rumpleforeskin over!’
    ‘Yes, and I mean today,’ orders Kane.
    Indian Joe nimbly leaps onto Lacy’s back. Kane and Lacy begin to cross, covered by Edwards and Dublin. While crossing the dangerous river on Lacy’s back, Indian Joe cannot stop himself from feeling Lacy’s blond hair with his fingers!

CHAPTER FIVE
MENDOZA’S NEW BOOTS: AND CHAVEZ’S TRICKS.
    Noon. The SAS troopers have made good ground, moving silently along the jungle trail, led by Indian Joe. Suddenly, he holds up his hand. The SAS troopers stop – Indian Joe disappears into the jungle.
    â€˜What’s he up to, Sarge?’ asks Jack Lacy.
    â€˜Fuck knows – what do you think I am, a swami?’ Kane replies.
    â€˜Listen, Jim,’ says Taffy Edwards. ‘Did you notice something about a kilometre back on the trail?’
    â€˜Yes – a group of natives crossed the track from the South and heading north.’
    â€˜We are heading north, Jim,’ Edwards remarks. ‘There were some small, fresh, green branches on the track – some kind of signal maybe. Our venereal friend looked at them, then kicked them away – something going on.’
    â€˜We should disarm the ugly bastard,’ Frank Dublin chips in.
    â€˜I agree Indian Joe is no oil painting,’ answers Kane, ‘but the Yanks use him – that’s good enough for me. You two Celts are always paranoid about something – if it’s not the English, it’s an indian tracker.’
    Ten minutes later, Indian Joe reappears holding a piece of vine and a large, dead, colourful Macaw. He pulls some feathers from the dead bird and puts two feathers in his greasy, black hair and looks at the four SAS men as if waiting for a compliment.
    â€˜Very fetching,’ says Kane. The group moves on.
    In a short while, they come to a small, slow flowing, shallow stream. ‘This could be dodgy,’ says Kane. ‘Piranhas are dangerous when the water’s low and sluggish.’
    Indian Joe throws in the dead bird. Soon the water is bubbling with thrashing piranhas, as they tear the bird apart. While the piranhas are feeding, Indian Joe has gone upstream a few metres and, with a rock, crushes the vine. A milky substance enters the stream, robbing the water of oxygen.
    Within minutes, the shoal of piranha is belly up!
    The group crosses the stream.
    â€˜Lacy,’ says Kane, ‘before you cross any water, always have a good look-see. If you can only see piranha, and they have red bellies or are black, and no other fish are present, cross elsewhere!’
    â€˜When can we have nose-bag, Sarge?’ asks Lacy. ‘I’m bloody well starving!’
    â€˜This is only a twelve-hour lie up,’ says Dublin to Lacy. Taffy and me have been in lie-up for thirteen days.’
    â€˜Our target was a crafty IRA commander,’ continues Edwards. ‘We were two hundred yards from his front door and the bastard never showed once. After nine days, we ran out of food and ate anything that crawled or slithered passed our LUP. A cat came nosing around – Frank and me ate it raw! We had to organise a car accident outside his front door – the bedroom curtain moved two inches – our target got a bullet in the left eye!’
    The group moves out.
    An hour before darkness falls, Kane halts his men. ‘We will be at the lay-up position soon. Lacy, once we are in the LUP position, keep your big gob shut – and no sly roll-ups.’
    The SAS troopers silently approach the area of the hut in the falling darkness. Not knowing when their target, Chevez, will arrive, they will wait until he leaves. A hundred metres from the hut, the four SAS men stop just before the jungle night descends. Leaving the track, they silently melt into the jungle to take-up their LUP positions. Indian Joe has disappeared! (Most of the jungle dwelling tribes are reluctant to leave their fires at night. However, there are exceptions – the