Kobus was barking instructions to the group now, to make ready and be off again. Jan spat in the dust and pulled his hat down over his forehead as his cousin approached. He took a last draught from his water bottle and followed it with another shot of whisky, knowing full well it was crazy to drink in the middle of the day. The combination of the heat and liquor would sap his energy and increase his thirst. But the alcohol deadened his misery. It was the only way he could force himself to go on. When all this political unrest died down he would take himself in hand, he vowed. Until then, liquor was the fuel that kept his legs pumping and his life from falling apart. The tracker signalled that he had found the quarry’s new direction, and the patrol went forward at a trot, through the scrub and thorn, rifles at the ready.

It was another hour before they caught up with their prey. The guerrillas had realised that they could not outrun their pursuers, and they had set an ambush among the rocks. When the shooting started, the patrol scattered, diving for cover into the thick bush. Jan was in the lead, shouting orders, racing towards the area where the gang was hiding, dodging and weaving through the rocks, firing off rounds as he went. Faced with this onslaught, the defenders turned to run. It was all over in a few minutes. Kobus walked around the bodies, counting his trophies. They were a ragged bunch, five men of disparate ages, dressed in threadbare camouflage uniforms. Only two of them wore ill-fitting shoes. The others were barefoot. Their guns were old, and they had little ammunition.

‘You took a chance out there, man. But it was good,’ Kobus said to Jan, as he bent down to strip the corpses of their weapons.

Jan shrugged, took another swig from his flask and lit a cigarette. ‘Not many of these people are well enough trained to stand their ground, if you go straight for them,’ he said. ‘They chose a spot where they thought they’d surprise us, and pick us off. They’re never prepared for us to go on the attack. They have no plan of action beyond the first few minutes.’

‘And if they had decided to stand fast?’

‘We’d have been shot. But we were getting shot at anyway.’