This was no man’s land, but there would be no football matches in it tonight. We were half-lit by the orbit of two lamps either side of us. If they came now, we would be seen at once and they would just pick us off. After a few steps, my heart was pounding through my shirt, which was sticking to my skin after several soakings of rain, and the blood was drumming in my ears. But I could still hear the trickle of rainwater through the drains and the splashing of our legs through the shallow puddles. All my senses were alert: for sound, movement, smell, or any change in the environment that meant it was time to raise my arm a little and squeeze the trigger.

None came, and we made it to the verge of the tennis court, which was surrounded by a wire fence. We scrambled down the bank to the gate, and ran, still in single file, around the outside of the court. I saw some fuzzy grey spots on the ground and my muscles tightened on the trigger until my brain registered what they were: lost tennis balls.

We clambered back up the slope and flattened ourselves against it - it was something of a relief, so I tried not to relax the leg too much. It was still tense from my rocky landing earlier.

I peered over and scanned the horizon. And there, parked quietly by one of the bungalows, was the sight I’d been hoping for: the Land Rover.

I waved my hand to the others and we went over the top. The pain was now working its way up my body, but I used it as a spur, pushing myself against it to see how much it would hurt, knowing that every moment counted. We weren’t out of here yet. At the halfway point, the others overtook me - it had been a long time since I was their age, running round the glens of Arisaig with only a compass and a dagger to guide me.

There were no lights on in the bungalow and no keys in the Land Rover. I told Gunner to get behind the wheel and Boxer and Senegal to jump in the back, then climbed into the passenger seat myself and looped the ropes around my arms so it looked as if I was bound. The fuel tank was two-thirds full, so that was all right. I reached under the dashboard for the solenoid and the hot wire.

‘Is anyone coming?’ I whispered to Gunner, and he had another look around and shook his head.

I bridged the two wires.

Ignition.

‘Slow down a touch,’ I said. A speeding vehicle might blow the whistle. We had cover now.