followed a north-west ridgeline. The patrolling was easy and we made good time. While we knew there was no enemy, we still patrolled tactically — this was a great opportunity to refresh our jungle patrolling skills.
For a soldier, there is no greater challenge than patrolling, surviving and living effectively in the jungle. Everything wants to bite you, sting you, suck your blood, scratch or kill you. Everything is rotting and that includes you if you’re not careful. Contact with the enemy is at a distance of 10 metres, which means if they see you first, it is hard to miss from that range. This also means you can’t make a sound because noise travels and will give your position away. It is beyond hot, but worse still is the near 100% humidity. Your clothes are always wet and then they stick to you. Walking up a slight incline is difficult because your wet trousers stick to your leg making it difficult to lift. Night observation posts or ambushes mean lying on the jungle floor all night, usually in a torrential downpour.
After two hours we approached the end of the ridgeline which began to turn to the west, as I knew it would, so I was forced to search for a suitable spur that would take us in the general direction of the ambush site. I signalled John to stop and moved up behind him. John continued to look to his front and I whispered in his ear, ‘Stop here for 10; I need to do a nav check.’ John nodded in acknowledgment. The rest of the patrol could see we’d stopped and moved up behind. I indicated where I wanted them to be and then we sat. For five minutes we sat still and listened to the noise around us, adapting to our immediate environment. I pulled out my map and identified our position. We were making good time without rushing things, and were 1200 metres from our start point. According to my map, 100 metres up ahead was a spur extending from the ridgeline like a finger pointing towards the north. It seemed to extend for about 1000 metres and was quite high. The higher we stayed in the jungle, the better the patrolling. Down low in the re-entrants, the jungle was secondary and very thick. I got up and moved to Tony first to brief him on the plan. He had nothing to add, so I briefed the rest of the patrol and we moved off after a couple of good mouthfuls of water.
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth and John looked around. I gave him a slight nod of my head and slowly John got to his feet. He inspected the floor of the jungle on which he’d been sitting, and moved some leaves to disguise the once-occupied area. He then moved off along the westerly spur. When he was about five metres away, I went through the same routine, as did the rest of the patrol, all spaced about the same. The whole patrol moved in a ‘pepper pot’ fashion. If John was moving, then I was stationary behind some cover giving John protection. If I was stationary, then Stuart was moving and so on. This style of patrolling was painfully slow, took a great deal of patience and discipline, but always ensured I had one foot on the ground if the shit hit the fan. No-one was getting the drop on us.
I’d counted out 180 paces, which for me was about 100 metres, but I checked with Stuart’s count to ensure I was about right because there was a substantial spur branching off to the north. I clicked with my tongue to John who immediately stopped and I moved up behind him. As scout, John would never take his eyes off the axis of advance. If I needed to talk to him, I had to move up behind him and whisper in his ear. ‘That’s the spur, let’s go.’ I indicated to the rest of the patrol with a sweeping hand to the right that we were going to change direction. It was necessary to inform the patrol of any change in direction because, in close jungle, those at the rear of the patrol might see the fleeting movement of the scout and shoot, thinking he’s the enemy.
As we reached the end of the spur we found ourselves back at ground
For a soldier, there is no greater challenge than patrolling, surviving and living effectively in the jungle. Everything wants to bite you, sting you, suck your blood, scratch or kill you. Everything is rotting and that includes you if you’re not careful. Contact with the enemy is at a distance of 10 metres, which means if they see you first, it is hard to miss from that range. This also means you can’t make a sound because noise travels and will give your position away. It is beyond hot, but worse still is the near 100% humidity. Your clothes are always wet and then they stick to you. Walking up a slight incline is difficult because your wet trousers stick to your leg making it difficult to lift. Night observation posts or ambushes mean lying on the jungle floor all night, usually in a torrential downpour.
After two hours we approached the end of the ridgeline which began to turn to the west, as I knew it would, so I was forced to search for a suitable spur that would take us in the general direction of the ambush site. I signalled John to stop and moved up behind him. John continued to look to his front and I whispered in his ear, ‘Stop here for 10; I need to do a nav check.’ John nodded in acknowledgment. The rest of the patrol could see we’d stopped and moved up behind. I indicated where I wanted them to be and then we sat. For five minutes we sat still and listened to the noise around us, adapting to our immediate environment. I pulled out my map and identified our position. We were making good time without rushing things, and were 1200 metres from our start point. According to my map, 100 metres up ahead was a spur extending from the ridgeline like a finger pointing towards the north. It seemed to extend for about 1000 metres and was quite high. The higher we stayed in the jungle, the better the patrolling. Down low in the re-entrants, the jungle was secondary and very thick. I got up and moved to Tony first to brief him on the plan. He had nothing to add, so I briefed the rest of the patrol and we moved off after a couple of good mouthfuls of water.
I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth and John looked around. I gave him a slight nod of my head and slowly John got to his feet. He inspected the floor of the jungle on which he’d been sitting, and moved some leaves to disguise the once-occupied area. He then moved off along the westerly spur. When he was about five metres away, I went through the same routine, as did the rest of the patrol, all spaced about the same. The whole patrol moved in a ‘pepper pot’ fashion. If John was moving, then I was stationary behind some cover giving John protection. If I was stationary, then Stuart was moving and so on. This style of patrolling was painfully slow, took a great deal of patience and discipline, but always ensured I had one foot on the ground if the shit hit the fan. No-one was getting the drop on us.
I’d counted out 180 paces, which for me was about 100 metres, but I checked with Stuart’s count to ensure I was about right because there was a substantial spur branching off to the north. I clicked with my tongue to John who immediately stopped and I moved up behind him. As scout, John would never take his eyes off the axis of advance. If I needed to talk to him, I had to move up behind him and whisper in his ear. ‘That’s the spur, let’s go.’ I indicated to the rest of the patrol with a sweeping hand to the right that we were going to change direction. It was necessary to inform the patrol of any change in direction because, in close jungle, those at the rear of the patrol might see the fleeting movement of the scout and shoot, thinking he’s the enemy.
As we reached the end of the spur we found ourselves back at ground
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