Carr got out his map. He was confident that he knew exactly where they were, but there was no point in compounding any error if there was one, so he switched on his GPS and used it to confirm the lat and long.

He smiled to himself: they were within five metres of where the map said they were.

He took a map bearing to the next RV, and whispered it to Geordie who set it on his compass and passed the message around the team.

South-east 1.5km – a pleasant stroll, though a psychologically-important one. Halfway between here and RV6 was the Tunisia-Libya border, which meant they’d be crossing from what was, at least in theory, a safe country into a very dangerous one.

He turned the GPS off, and replaced his map.

‘All downhill from here until a small climb to the FRV,’ he whispered. ‘Should be there by 03:00hrs – 03:30hrs at the latest.’

Geordie Skelton grunted. ‘Be glad to get in them fucking vehicles,’ he said, quietly.

Carr nodded: moving across open terrain like this in the dark was one thing, but on foot, in the blinding daylight of the North African desert, they’d stick out like a bulldog’s bollocks unless they could find good cover. They needed the sanctuary of the trucks.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go. Stay switched on.’

Kev stood up and the team followed him, picking their way slowly south-east.

They made excellent time, and were at the final FRV by 02:45hrs, a good two hours before first light.

It was a few hundred metres short of the actual vehicle handover point, to allow them to overwatch the area.

John Carr and Kevin McMullen left Skelton and West behind and moved cautiously forward from the FRV to get eyes-on the vehicles.

They were back a few minutes later.

‘Nothing there,’ said Carr, quietly.

‘Definitely the right spot, John?’ said Fred West.

‘Hundred per cent,’ said Carr.

‘Fucking raghead cunts,’ hissed Geordie. ‘Where the fuck are they?’

Carr looked at him. ‘Stop flapping,’ he said. ‘They’ll be here. We’ll just have to wait.’

‘Don’t call me a flapper, John,’ said Geordie. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he turned his back and checked their six.

Carr shook his head. ‘Okay, guys,’ he said. ‘Let’s take this opportunity to grab an hour’s kip till the vehicles show. Two on, two off, and everyone awake at 05:00. Kev, Fred, you get your heads down first.’

He waited until McMullen and West had gone – it only took a minute, maybe two – and tapped Geordie on the shoulder.

‘Stay positive, mate,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t let me hear any more negativity from you. We’ve been in worse situations than this, and we aren’t even in a situation yet.’

‘Sorry, John,’ whispered the big northerner, over his shoulder. ‘Just the thought of going back over that route if the vehicles don’t turn up…’