An officer with a pistol led a charge in through the entrance from the woods, but a volley of shots rang out. The officer fell and his men retreated. As the villagers cheered, Calogero stood up and roared a barrage of defiant insults after the fleeing guards, but his confidence was short-lived. The attack had merely been a diversion and another group had come in by the back entrance, including a man with a lethal Thompson sub-machine gun.

The gun chattered into life, spraying bullets around the cave.

Calogero fired back, standing proudly in the open, his rifle to his shoulder. He got off six rounds, one after the other, and his aim was more accurate than the machine gunner’s. His last shot found its target, and as the guard went down he dropped the tommy gun.

Another man ran to pick up the fallen weapon, but Calogero was ready for him. He aimed his rifle and pulled his trigger.

Nothing happened. He was out of ammunition. He cursed and threw the rifle aside, then pulled his knife from his belt.

He threw the knife at the exact moment that the guard took aim and fired.

A knife thrown by a strong man travels at about 80 feet per second.

Calogero didn’t stand a chance.

James was horrified. A moment ago this had been a man full of spirit and laughter, and now he was a lifeless bundle on the ground and he would never laugh again.

His knife, however, was growing from the gunner’s chest and once again the Thompson was silenced.

The flare had burnt itself out and it was now difficult to see what was going on. The only light came from the guttering fire and the muzzle flashes of the guns.

James grabbed Calogero’s fallen rifle. He knew that it was empty, but it felt good to hold something in his sweaty hands, at the very least it would stop them shaking. This was cold, gut-wrenching fear like he had never experienced before. He didn’t know where to turn. It was chaos. Everywhere was a confusion of ear-splitting bangs, blinding bursts of light, shouting and screaming. Whether you lived or died was largely down to luck.

A third guard now took up the machine gun and, as he pinned everyone down, the way was clear for the rest of the attackers to filter into the cave through the front entrance. Luckily the machine gunner was no expert and the gun leapt about unsteadily in his hands, scattering shots inaccurately. His friends were almost as scared of him as were the cowering bandits.

The man with the Thompson slowly advanced into the centre of the cave, only firing sporadic bursts now, as no one dared expose himself to the gun’s deadly gaze.