The thick ice-cold cloud rolled across the mountain like a tsunami, causing a complete white-out.
Harry yelled, ‘Shit fellas, that’s it for today then. Back to camp it is.’
‘Camp’ consisted of a tarpaulin strung across two of the larger alpine shrubs so that the four men could lie together like sardines beneath, with a fire at each end for warmth. They had been dropped, as in jumped, from moving helicopters two days ago, given the task of preparing a heli-pad so that a larger aircraft could land for recovery of the four souls killed in the plane that had crashed into the mountain just below their current position.
Harry knew why he had been chosen for the expedition. His father had ‘volunteered’ him as the local knowledge. He could see this mountain from his home on any clear day. The other three were government ‘wallahs’. One of them, Charlie, was a fellow ‘Territory brat’. He was a good bloke, and Pete was OK but Terry? What a useless streak of pelican shit he was! Nearly got decapitated exiting the helicopter by not doing what he was told to avoid the blades and then tells them he is missing a thumb, so useless with the bush knives they had been allocated to clear the vegetation.
Arrangements for the mission had been rushed and once at their destination, they had found themselves with limited supplies of food and water, Harry’s one rifle, and a radio with a flat battery.
‘This isn’t good boys. If this weather sets in, we are stuffed. We need to be finished by tomorrow for the chopper to pick us up’.
Harry had appointed himself as the leader of the group once he realized that Terry, the one who considered he had the seniority of age and position, demonstrated he was strictly a desk jockey. Charlie and Pete quickly understood, but Terry kept trying to exert his authority.
‘We will finish the job at first light.’ Terry said. ‘I suggest we all eat what rations we have left and get a good night’s sleep.’
On the fourth day, with the clouds well and truly set in, Harry announced,
‘I am going home. We could be here for days without food or water. If we can get below the tree line, we should be able to find fresh water and something we can eat. ‘
‘Nobody leaves here without my say so.’ said Terry. ‘I was instructed to wait for the chopper no matter what.’
‘Yeah mate, well that was before your idiot ‘colleagues’ sent us up here with a dud radio and fuck-all food. I know the way. Straight down the ridge I pointed out to you, until we find the Ebei creek headwaters, then follow that down to the valley and home.’
A vote was taken and the majority ruled. Day after endless day, they slogged down the mountain, finding enough water to survive but eating only grubs and any edible vegetable matter that Harry could find. Terry was suffering the most. He had not an ounce of fat to spare and was mentally the least fit for such hardship. Having insisted on carrying the rifle and once tried but failed to shoot a pigeon, he refused to let Harry use it because he said they couldn’t afford to waste bullets. One evening they were stunned to see him stamp out the fire they had just lit, saying they were wasting matches. Scariest was the time they had no choice but to edge along a narrow ledge with a sheer drop behind them and Terry became convinced his backpack was trying to pull him over the side, so he went to throw it away.
Harry grabbed his arm. ‘Easy Terry, we all need our backpacks. Just hang on to me and shuffle as I do. Baby steps, mate, baby steps.’
On the tenth day of their ordeal, as they sat by the morning fire dreaming of a juicy steak and a hot shower, a helicopter appeared right above them. The smoke from their fire had been spotted by Harry’s father and a helicopter that had given up the search – they had been looking too far up the mountain – dispatched to the spot. Notes with instructions, and food of every description soon rained on them like manna from heaven and one day later they were all back at the government station.
As a welcome party gathered around them, Harry listened in disbelief as Terry, when congratulated by a fellow bureaucrat for a job well done getting all the men safely home, said,
‘Yes, it was a huge challenge, but I held the boys together. There were many times I had to take their hands and say …’you’ll be right lads… one small step at a time.’’
© Tropical Writers Inc 2025