We were walking along a high ridge. We had been out for well over an hour, and nothing had happened. Then Connor saw something move on the opposite side of our ridge. We dived into the long grass and peered over to watch.
There were figures in the grass, about ten of them, and all were wearing uniforms. We plunged deeper into the long grass, praying we hadn’t been seen. It was the Marines! They were stalking us! We had to get out of there. So we started sneaking forward to cut them off at the bottom of the ridge, so we could run before they caught us. They mirrored us, so we started going the other way. They followed us there too. After about ten minutes of tailing each other, one of their lot stood up and shouted:
“Hoi Marines, get back to your own camp!”
It was the Delta Squad, one of the other Army companies! We’d just spent ages stalking our own men! Laughing like maniacs we stood up and walked down the ridge and met in the middle, exchanged a few playful cuss words, and then set off on our own directions again. Honestly, to think our own lads were the Marines, how stupid!
Still sniggering amongst ourselves, we rounded the edge of the hill to check out a small copse on the other side of the valley.
And walked smack-bang into a patrol of rifle-carrying Veteran Marines.