Ghost Flight

48

The trek through the jungle had gone as well as Jaeger could have hoped for. Their route lay along the rim of the fault line, and the ground had been rocky and drier underfoot, the forest slightly less dense. As a result, they’d made decent progress.

The first night they’d camped in the jungle and put into practice their dual strategy – to double their watch while at the same time trying to lure the Indians into making some kind of peaceful contact.

During his time in the military, Jaeger had done his fair share of hearts-and-minds operations – designed to befriend the native populace wherever they might be operating. The locals would have invaluable knowledge as to enemy movements, and they would also know the best routes to use to track and ambush them. It had made every sense to try to bring them onside.

With Hiro Kamishi’s help, Jaeger had strung up gifts for the Indians, hanging them in the forest just out of visual range of their camp. A few knives, a couple of machetes, some cooking pots: it was the kind of equipment Jaeger would have appreciated were he a member of a remote tribe living in the midst of the world’s largest jungle.

They didn’t bother with the kind of note that Joe James had written for the Indians. Uncontacted tribes didn’t tend to read. But the good news was that by morning, several of their offerings had been taken.

In their place, someone – the Indian warriors presumably – had left gifts: some fresh fruit; a couple of animal-bone amulets; even a quiver made of jaguar skin for holding blow-darts.

Jaeger was heartened. The first signs of peaceful contact appeared to have been made. Even so, he was determined not to relax their vigilance. The Indians were definitely close. They were on the trail of Jaeger and his team, and that meant the threat remained very real.

Jaeger had led the way towards their second intended campsite, at the lip of the thousand-foot precipice, and the path leading to the lowlands far below. It was beginning to get dark by the time he had found a suitable spot to spend the night.

He signalled the team to a halt. They dropped their packs and settled themselves upon them, not a word being spoken. Jaeger had them spend ten long minutes doing a ‘listening watch’; tuning into the forest and scanning for any threat.

All seemed quiet.

That done, he signalled that they should set camp.

They worked away in the gathering darkness by feel alone, so as not to show any lights and alert the Indians to their exact location. Once camp was set, Jaeger and Kamishi planned to hang out more offerings – but they’d site them a good distance away from the camp, to furnish an added layer of security.

Jaeger unrolled his poncho from his pack and tied it between four trees – forming a waterproof roof. That done, he changed out of his sweat-soaked trekking gear. Everyone on his team carried one set of dry clothing: combat shirt and trousers, plus socks. The night was dry-kit time – a precious few hours in which to allow the body to recover a little.

Having dry time was crucial. If it were left permanently wet, skin would quickly start to rot in the hot and humid conditions.

Once in his dry gear, Jaeger slung his hammock beneath the poncho. It had been hand-stitched from parachute silk, making it strong, lightweight and durable. There were two layers of para-silk – one to lie on, and the other to pull over the top, forming a cocoon. It helped keep the mozzies off and the heat in – for the jungle at night could prove surprisingly chilly.

On either end of the hammock’s lines was threaded a squash ball cut in half, cup face towards the tree. It was there to prevent water running down the lines and soaking the hammock’s head and foot ends. Jaeger sprayed the area directly behind the squash ball with a powerful insect repellent: it would soak into the hammock line and deter any insects from crawling in.

He placed his compass into his dry-kit pocket. If they did need to make a run for it during the night, he had to have such vital kit to hand. His wet kit was stuffed inside a poly bag and strapped beneath the flap of his backpack. The pack was laid beneath his hammock, with his weapon placed on top.

If he needed to reach for his shotgun in the night, it would come easily to hand.

They were six days into this expedition now, and with the constant exertion and the need for permanent vigilance, everyone was getting seriously fatigued. But keeping a strict wet-kit/dry-kit routine was vital. Jaeger knew from experience that the moment someone failed to get into their dry kit on a long expedition such as this one – I’m too tired; I can’t be bothered – they were done for. Likewise if they allowed their dry kit to get wet. Trench foot and groin rot could come on fast and would slow the pace of a man almost as fast as any bullet.

Before retiring to his hammock, Jaeger would rub a dab of anti-fungal powder into his most vulnerable parts: between the toes, under armpits and in the groin. Those were the places where dirt, moisture and bacteria tended to collect, and they would be the first to start to rot and turn septic.

Come morning, he and his team would reverse the entire night-time routine, changing out of dry kit into wet, stowing their dry kit away, dosing socks and more with talcum powder, and preparing for the onward journey. It was laborious, but it was also the only way to keep the body functioning in these kinds of conditions.

Lastly, Jaeger checked the sticky plasters that he had taped over his nipples. The constant friction of wet gear tended to rub your chest raw. He cut off some fresh strips, applied them, and stuffed the old plasters into a side pocket of his pack. The less they left behind, the harder it would be to track them.

That done, he was ready to hang out tonight’s presents to lure the Indians in. He and Kamishi did a repeat of the previous night – tying their few remaining gifts in the low-hanging branches amongst a distant patch of trees. Then they returned to camp, where they would be taking first watch. There would be two sets of eyes alert and watchful all night long, standing a rota of two-hour sentry duties.

Jaeger and Kamishi settled down, focusing intently on their senses – chiefly hearing and sight, their best early-warning systems. The key to survival in the deep jungle was watchfulness in every sense of the word.

It was like a form of meditation, this tuning in to the night-dark forest – and Jaeger could feel Kamishi doing the same at his side.

He opened his mind to changes in the setting, becoming hyper-alert to any hint of threat. If his ears caught the faintest sound – anything distinct from the deafening night-time beat of the insects pulsating out of the shadows – his eyes immediately swivelled around to focus on the threat.

Tension rippled back and forth as he and Kamishi sensed movement in the darkness. Every noise from the brooding bush sent Jaeger’s pulse racing. Weird animal noises echoed through the jungle, ones that Jaeger figured he’d not heard before. And tonight he was convinced that some of them at least were human.

Odd, unnatural piercing shrieks and wails echoed back and forth through the trees. A lot of jungle animals did make similar calls – troops of monkeys in particular. But so too did the native Amazonian tribes as they signalled to each other.

‘You hear that?’ Jaeger whispered.

Kamishi’s teeth showed white in the faint moonlight. ‘Yes. I hear it.’

‘Animals? Or Indians?’

Kamishi eyed Jaeger. ‘I think Indian. Maybe they signal they are happy to find our new gifts?’

‘Happy is good,’ Jaeger muttered.

But those cries – they weren’t like any shouts of joy that he had ever heard before.