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peeped again, I got a good view of them. Two men, both young, both dressed in camouflage. They were moving slowly down the sides of the road, the exact way Lee and I had been doing. Guess we’d read the same handbook on guerrilla warfare. They had their rifles ready for action and they looked pretty professional. They peered as I peeped.
    I carefully moved my rifle up to my shoulder, still trying to make no sound. It occurred to me that they might be pretty deaf themselves after the barrage. I lined them up, but didn’t know what I was going to do. Could I shoot them in cold blood? I didn’t have much compunction about that, seeing how hard they were trying to kill me, but I didn’t know if it was a good tactical move. Could I take them prisoner? I was scared to do that. I know it’s so easy in the movies when they take a prisoner, but in real life all I could see were problems. What if I told them to walk along the road in a certain direction and they just refused? Would I, could I, shoot them?
    Damn Lee, where was he? I needed his advice. Someone’s advice, anyone’s advice, but I’d take Lee or Homer above most people, especially in a situation like this.
    Then it seemed that they saw Lee, even if I couldn’t. While I was still trying to decide whether to pull the trigger, and if so which one I’d shoot first, they both suddenly tensed. One went a couple of steps to the left, the other to the right. Now they were both out of my sight. But they both fired, in such quick succession that it almost seemed like one shot. There was an answering blast from Lee. He must have had himself fairly well positioned, because he gave them a hot time. He fired again, then a couple more times. He must have reloaded. I could see branches whipping back with the force of shells hitting them. Leaves flew. He forced the men back, I think, because I could hear them well enough now, shouting to each other in their own language. It sounded like they were already twenty metres down the road, nearly at the gate.
    I ran around to get a better position. I knew where I could get a view of the fence line. If I could catch them as they went across the cattle grid I’d have them off guard for a couple of moments. It’s difficult to get across those things, especially if you’re trying to concentrate on shooting people at the same time.
    By the time I saw them again they were already across it though. That was pretty slick work. They were haring towards a small clump of trees, swerving a bit as they went. Yes, they were professionals all right. Lee came running down the road, panting like he’d just done ten k’s. I came down the fence line taking giant steps to get over logs and rocks and ditches. We met at the gate and without needing to speak raced across the cattle grid. Lee dropped to one knee and lined up a shot, but I could have told him he was wasting his time. When you’ve been running like that and it’s a hot day and you’re in a state of panic, you can’t get your gun steady, you can’t aim properly, sweat gets in your eyes and your hand trembles and the shot goes wide or high or short or whatever. Lee should have known.
    It would have been pretty funny if he’d hit one of them after my saying that, but he didn’t. I couldn’t see where the shot went, even though I’d had to pause and wait for him while he took it. I wasn’t going to run on ahead while he amused himself with pot shots from behind me.
    ‘Come on,’ I said, and he got back to his feet and started out after me.
    I realised we were running into a problem. When these guys got into the clump of trees – and nothing we could do was going to stop them – the tables would suddenly be reversed. We were in a big bare part of the paddock. Absolutely no cover. To my left, beyond a dozen very restless and unhappy-looking beasts, was more bush, but it was a long way from us. We would be exposed to withering fire from a couple of professional soldiers who’d be well