But there was no time to stand and stare, for men, equipment, horses and mules had to be moved across the river and the sky was already lightening as a red flare went up on the far bank to signal it was clear of any enemy and the advance guard was dug in on the clifftop.

As the day wore on and the heat rose, the crossing of the Chindwin became a battle of wills between the stubborn mules and the equally stubborn but rapidly tiring men who were sweating, swearing and straining to get the animals to the other side while it was still light. A string of twenty or so beasts would be forcibly led into the water, only for them to panic mid-stream and head back to shore, while others fought their handlers and restraints, kicked out viciously and threatened to sink their huge yellow teeth into anyone who dared get near them as they refused to leave the shore.

Jim and his men were utterly exhausted; soaked with sweat, stripped to the waist and at the very end of their tether as they leant far out over the boat’s gunwales to drag the two mutinous and spitting mules by their halters through the water. Jim had lost count of the number of times he’d made this journey, but it seemed these particular beasts had finally got the right idea and were now swimming – albeit reluctantly.

They reached the bank and passed the mules over to their handlers, and then sank on the ground to drink deeply from their water canteens and bolster their flagging energy by eating some of their K-rations before they had to do it all again.

Jim looked around him. The shore was littered with mules, saddles, damaged boats, ropes, radios and stores as men struggled to bring in more of the recalcitrant beasts and tried to bring some order to the chaos. He squinted against the glare of the sun and checked his watch. The day had flown, and within a couple of hours the sun would begin to sink and it would be night again.

‘We should have completed the crossing by now,’ he muttered to Ernie who’d flopped into the sand beside him. ‘But I reckon we’ve got less than a fifth of those damned mules across the water. At this rate, we’ll still be at it by nightfall.’

‘In my experience,’ said Big Bert, lighting a smoke, ‘neither mules nor horses can be made to do a long river crossing in the dark – so we’d better try and get as many as possible over before then. Without them, it’ll be us carrying all the equipment.’