Chapter 1

We must be quiet. We are lying on the side of a hill, in a small stand of trees. We are watching the road for the enemy convoy. Soon, it will be dusk. If they do not come in the next few minutes, we will have to move closer, increasing the danger.

It is already close range, only 150m from our cover, and we know my RPG will be effective. But, when I launch the rocket, the flash and smoke will give away our position, so it is fire and flee. We must be back down the hill, across the stream and into the woods as soon as the truck blows. Then we will welcome the fading light. This is our land, we will find our escape by instinct, while the enemy blunders after us, into the trap.

I turn, smile at you, touch your cheek. If we get away from this, we will have gentle loving tonight. If not, this will be the last time we lie down together. And I think of our pact - we will not be captured. At the end, I will shoot you before I shoot myself.

There is still enough late summer evening light to see the road. The enemy trucks will not use their headlights, they will have to slow to negotiate the bend onto the narrow bridge. That will be my moment. I have already sighted the launcher. I will take the first truck, block the others.

You smile back, brush some hair from my face. I really must cut it off when we are back in camp. I hold your hand, kiss it, then point at the hillside opposite.

We hear the faint noise of the invader's trucks, distant but closing. A crash of gears as they crest the rise and start to descend towards the bridge. I feel you tense as you line up your M-16. I spread my legs, dig my toes into the earth and settle the RPG launcher on my shoulder. I know I am at the limit of my best range but closer would be too dangerous.

The first truck reaches the bottom of the slope and slows to turn on to the bridge. I centre my sights on the cab and gently squeeze the trigger.

The missile accelerates from its launcher and the rocket motor ignites. In less than a second, it strikes the cab of the leading truck. In the evening light, the flash is bright red and orange. Dark smoke billows from the tangled metal, even before the truck swerves violently and crashes through the flimsy barrier of the bridge and into the dry gully. More explosions follow, as the ammunition for the truck's machine gun explodes.

I watch fascinated for a moment, as the enemy soldiers try to scramble clear of the wreckage. Some are wounded by the explosion, some burning in their uniforms as the fire quickly spreads. I hear the sharp crackle as you fire a burst from your M16, and see a soldier spin, his arms outspread in a dance of death as your bullets drive into him.

Then you are hitting my shoulder and dragging me back into the trees. "Come on," you hiss urgently. "Let's go!"

I shuffle backwards on my belly and roll behind a tree. I sit for a moment and then dive into the bushes, back down the reverse slope towards the stream. I can still hear the explosion of the truck echoing in my ears, the confused shouting and random firing of automatic weapons from the bridge. I know the invader is ruthless, disciplined. Their officers will soon have the men back under control and start a sweep up the hill towards our firing position.

I hear you crashing through the bushes to my right and we emerge at the stream almost simultaneously. It is no more than knee deep as we plunge across. We drag ourselves onto the opposite bank and scramble up the slope to the treeline. The forest is thicker here and we can afford to pause a moment, catch our breath.

I look at you, see the wild look in your eyes. I know I have that look too. It comes with the kill, the sudden release of all that pent up energy. We were given this mission, we planned it, we studied it for days. And we have executed it. We have let the invader know that he cannot move freely around our country. His boots may be here, but this is still our land, and we will extract a price for every moment he chooses to spend on it.

I turn to watch the stream and the clearing on either side. This is what our commander called "the killing ground." I put down the RPG tube and unsling my AK-47. At this range, in this light, it will be as effective as your M16.

I smile at you, signal for you to take cover, while I move a few metres to my right. Here, I have three different firing positions, and can move between them in relative safety. This is a good place to hold the enemy, to inflict some serious losses on his forces.