At the mention of Sanderson’s name, practically everyone in the room glanced automatically at the lean-faced soldier sitting in the back row, ignoring the flies and mosquitoes swarming around him. He was obviously used to them.
‘Though he came to Borneo with A Squadron,’ Callaghan explained, ‘Corporal Sanderson has been transferred to D Squadron to give us the benefit of his experience. If any of you men have any questions to put to him at any time over the next few months, don’t hesitate. For the moment, however, please limit yourselves to any questions you might have for me regarding the briefing so far.’
‘How did we react to the attack against Long Jawi?’ Dead-eye asked.
‘Swiftly and effectively,’ Callaghan replied without hesitation. ‘We flew Gurkhas to cut-off points on the Indonesians’ line of retreat, where most of the enemy were killed in ambushes. Nevertheless, the fact that the Dyaks had not mentioned their presence, and that the Border Scouts failed to lend adequate support to the few Gurkhas in the post, made it perfectly clear that we can’t depend on the former for anything other than tracking and intelligence gathering. Their training has therefore been taken over by the Gurkha Independent Parachute Company. Also, they no longer wear uniforms, which makes them less obviously members of the Security Forces. Naturally, we’ll still use them as porters or to fell trees to clear helicopter LZs, as they’re expert at both those tasks.’
‘What about us?’ Alf asked.
‘Since the Indonesian forces are making more frequent incursions into Sarawak and Sabah, we’ll be living almost entirely in the jungle, this time relying on our Border Scouts only for local information or when visiting a longhouse for a brief stay. Once we’ve settled in among the indigenous population, our function will be to patrol the areas where the Indonesians are most likely to cross the border. These include the comparatively flat plains along Sarawak’s western border; the valley tracks leading through Stass, about 30 miles from Kuching, the capital of Sarawak; the previously mentioned Long Jawi in the 3rd Division; the valleys south of Pensiamgan; and the waterways of eastern Sabah.’
Dead-eye turned his flat, grey gaze on Corporal Sanderson. ‘Speaking from experience, what’s your judgement on the Indo incursions?’
Sanderson smiled slightly, recognizing a kindred soul. ‘It’s my belief,’ he replied with confidence, ‘that small Indonesian patrols also infiltrate by other, less visible routes, particularly in the unexplored stretch of jungle known as “the Gap”, lying east of the Pensiamgan valleys of Sabah.’
‘Precisely,’ Callaghan interjected. ‘The Gap! Though largely unexplored territory, therefore particularly dangerous, that area will become your main battle zone.’
‘I thought we weren’t engaging the enemy,’ Alf said sarcastically.
‘You know what I mean, Trooper. If engagement is unavoidable, you engage; otherwise these are R & I patrols.’
‘How do we insert?’ Terry Malkin asked.
‘A good question from our most recently badged member!’ Callaghan responded, only half joking and going on to give a serious explanation. ‘We insert in small groups by chopper to an LZ within yomping distance of the respective target kampongs. From there we march the rest of the way. Once at their selected kampong, the individual small groups will ingratiate themselves slowly but surely, adopting a hearts-and-minds approach, as we did in Malaya. Finally, when the trust of the aboriginals has been gained, you will persuade them to let us bring more troops in by helicopter – the regular Army, Royal Marine Commandos and Gurkhas – to turn the kampongs into fortified camps. Once that’s done, we start sending SAS-led R & I patrols out into the surrounding jungle – either with or without the help of the natives.’
‘What are the hazards of this particular jungle?’ Terry asked, obviously taking this, his first campaign, very seriously.
Callaghan simply glanced at Sanderson, who said without a trace of irony: ‘Snakes, lizards, leeches, wild pigs, aggressive boar and primitive peoples: Land and Sea Dyaks, Muruts and Punans. Some of them are headhunters and don’t take too kindly to strangers.’
‘And we’re using them as trackers?’ the trooper asked doubtfully.
Sanderson grinned. ‘Only the ones we know and have personally trained. Others, when not actually headhunting, work for the Indos or CCO, so you have to be careful.’
‘When do we insert?’ Dead-eye asked.
‘The day after tomorrow,’ Major Callaghan replied. ‘Today you rest; tomorrow you prepare; the next day you leave. The flight is only twenty minutes. When you reach your LZ, an NCO from A Squadron will be there to take you in to the selected kampong and guide you through the hearts-and-minds requirements for this particular area. Any more questions?’
‘Yes,’ Pete Welsh said. ‘I’m told that the natives often offer their bare-breasted daughters as gifts. Are we allowed to accept?’
‘The elders are genuine when they offer,’ Sanderson replied from the last row, ‘but if you accept the offer, you’re liable to offend the young men of the kampong. The short answer, then, is a categorical no!’
A loud chorus of exaggerated groans filled the room, followed by Alf’s melodramatic: ‘War is hell!’
‘You should know,’ Callaghan responded. ‘That’s it. Class dismissed!’
The men gratefully pushed back their chairs and hurried out of the briefing room, determined to enjoy their last day of rest before the hard work began.
Selected as one team were Sergeant Parker, Corporals Welsh and Laughton, Private Malkin, all of D Squadron, and A Squadron’s Corporal Sanderson, who would be their general guide and adviser, both in the jungle and regarding their relationship with the Dyaks.
After their day of rest, which took the form of a lengthy booze-up in the NAAFI, they arose at first light to shower, shave, dress, have a hearty breakfast, then get kitted out with proper jungle wear. This included ‘olive-greens’; a soft, peaked hat with sweat-band and a yellow marker inside for identification; and rubber-and-canvas jungle boots with a metal plate inserted in the sole to prevent sharp objects, such as vicious punji stakes, going through the sole and into the foot. The kit consisted of ammunition pouches; two external water bottles; and the usual bergen rucksack including, in this instance, a useful bamboo carrier, two spare water bottles, a rolled-up sleeping bag, canvas sheeting and camouflaged hessian for setting up a temporary ‘basha’, and an escape belt holding high-calorie rations, hexamine fuel blocks, a fishing line and hooks, a small knife, waterproofed matches, a button-compass and a small-scale map.
Private Malkin was given a standard-issue Armalite M16 5.56mm assault rifle with 20-round box magazine, Corporal Sanderson opted for the generally less popular 7.62mm SLR, which he insisted he was used to, and the rest selected the 7.62mm Armalite assault rifle, which was light and compact, and therefore ideally suited to the jungle. Each man was also given a good supply of ‘36’ hand-grenades and ‘80’ white-phosphorus incendiary grenades, which were clipped to the webbed belts around their chests and waist. All of them were also given a standard-issue 9mm Browning High Power handgun with 13-round magazines and a Len Dixon holster. They were also given two knives, a Fairburn-Sykes commando knife and a parang.
‘Shit,’ Terry said, swinging the Malay jungle knife experimentally from left to right, ‘this thing looks pretty dangerous.’
‘We first had these in Malaya,’ Alf told him, ‘and a lot of us badly cut ourselves while learning to use them. It isn’t as easy as it looks, so handle that item with care, kid.’
‘Yes, boss.’ Terry clipped the sheathed