Bear Grylls - Ghost Flight

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.

Jaeger awoke.

It was sometime in the depths of the night. At first he was unsure what had disturbed him.

As his senses tuned in to his immediate surroundings, he detected a thick and ghostly tension about the camp. And then, from the corner of his eye, he spotted a wraith-like form melt out of the dark jungle. Almost at the same instant, he became aware that there were dozens more such figures emerging from the trees.

He saw all-but-naked forms detach themselves from the gloom, and flit noiselessly through the camp. Weapons held at the ready, they moved with a single-minded purpose. Jaeger reached down, his fingers feeling for the cold steel of his combat shotgun. He slipped his hand around it, drawing it into the hammock beside him.

Other than himself, he could see that only Alonzo was awake. An unspoken understanding was telegraphed across the darkness between them: somehow the team’s watch must have fallen apart, and the Indians had stolen unnoticed into their camp.

They were outnumbered many times over, that much was clear, and Jaeger felt certain the Indians had further firepower secreted in the forest. It was also clear what the consequences would be if he and Alonzo opened fire. There would be a bloodbath, but by sheer force of numbers the Indians would end up slaughtering the lot of them.

Jaeger forced himself to hold his fire, signalling Alonzo to do likewise.

Moments later, three figures materialised at his side. Silent, dressed only in bark strips and bedecked in feather and bone amulets, each hefted a hollow wooden tube – a blowpipe – which was aimed at Jaeger’s head. Jaeger didn’t doubt that they were armed with darts tipped in curare.

All around him, Jaeger’s fellow expeditioners were prodded into life, each coming awake to the frightening realisation of capture. Only Hiro Kamishi was absent from his hammock. They’d set staggered watches, with different changeover times, and Jaeger figured it was Kamishi who must have been on sentry and failed to spot their attackers.

But why had Kamishi been standing guard alone? It was supposed to be two on watch all night long. Either way, presumably he was a captive now, along with the rest of them.

Jaeger had precious little time to ponder that now. With hand gestures and harsh, guttural commands – the exact meaning was lost on Jaeger, but the sense was crystal clear – he was ordered down from his hammock. As two of the Indians covered him with their blow-darts, the third wrestled his shotgun out of his hands.

He was forced to collapse his camp, pack his hammock and poncho, and hoist his pack on to his shoulders. Then he was shoved powerfully in the back, leaving little room for doubt about what was required of him. Jaeger needed to march, and there would be no changing into wet gear for the coming journey, wherever it was taking them.

As he exited the camp, Jaeger spotted the leader of the Indian party – the same warrior commander he had confronted on the riverbank – issuing orders. Their eyes met and Jaeger found himself looking into pools of blank nothingness.

It reminded him of the gaze of the jaguar.

Flat, dark, unreadable.

Hunting.

Jaeger fell into step alongside Hiro Kamishi. The veteran of the Tokusha Sakusen Gun – Japan’s elite military force – was unable to meet his gaze. Kamishi had to know that he had let the entire team down, perhaps with fatal consequences.

‘I am so sorry,’ he muttered, hanging his head in shame. ‘It was my second sentry duty, I closed my eyes for just a second and—’

‘We’re all tired,’ Jaeger whispered. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. But where was the other guy on watch?’

Kamishi flicked his eyes up to Jaeger. ‘I was meant to wake you, but I let you sleep. I thought I was strong enough to last my watch alone. This,’ he gestured at their Indian captors, ‘is the result. I have failed in my duty as a warrior. My pride has shamed my Bushido heritage.’