Sergeant Kassim was squatting, with a pair of field binoculars glued to his eyes. It was a beautiful stretch of golden sandbank just a tanjong above the Pelagus Rapids. Four longboats were tethered to paddles stuck in the sand. On the higher sandbank, four cooking fires were evidently boiling pots of rice for the lunch hour, now well past noon.

The prisoners were re-stacking the luggages which were unloaded during the ride throught the rapids. They were preparing the longboats for negotiating upstream after lunch. Some men were resting while some were collecting firewood. They leisurely carried the twigs and branches from the edge of the jungle and threw them down near the cooking pots.

The Japanese were in two groups, and a short distance apart. They were smoking and silently  admiring the rolling gren hills and rushing water.

A small group of six Local Defence Corps - Sarawak boys, forced into the service of the enemy - sat apart. Their uniforms were shabby with fading colours. They were weapons surrendered reluctantly by owners to the occopying forces. Two rounds of buckshot each did not help to lift the low morale of these boys who tried valiantly to mask their feelings to impress their arrogant masters, who doubted their usefulness in this delicate situation. However, the Defence Corps and the prisoners did not bear any loyalty to their masters.

Suddenly, the green curtain at the edge of the jungle parted. Iban hunters emerged unhurriedly in a single file. They had spears in their hands and parangs strapped to their waists. Hunting dogs trotted happily and proudly at their heels. On the backs of the hunters, wild boar meat was carried.

Their appearance startled the men on the sandbank, who watched them warily. The fearsome tales of Iban headhunters especially among the prisoners and the Defence Corps, were reminded at the sight of these men. Even in time of peace, when one travelled throught Iban territory, the thoughts of sudden attacks by Iban headhunters could not be calmed or dismissed. Relief was great at the sight of the hunting dogs and the wild boar meat!

The hunters stopped short before approaching the Japanese soldiers, bowed awkwardly, and laid their burden down. They cut a generous portion for the conquerors, who grunted in appreciation.

"Joje! Masak!" one of the Japanese soldiers shouted. Joje, a prisoner, detached himself from a group at the cooking fire, and hurried over to receive the chunk of meat.

A hunter asked Joje for a firebrand with which to start a fire. The Iban cook had the fire going while one went to the river bank to clean the rice in the pot before cooking it. The other hunters seemed glad to rest and rolled native tobacco to smoke.

Sergeant Kassim noted the busy sight stretched before him. He turned to speak to Penghulu Ribu and Penghulu Rangan who had joined him quietly at the knoll. There was no alternative but to launch a sudden attack with parangs at close quarters, on the enemy. The field of fire was too limited. The Japanese were effectively screened off by scattered groups of men who were in the line of fire. The hunters had to do the job. The half dozen volunteers peering excitedly from cover with him were sharp-shooters at the firing range. But for this occasion, they could not be depended on their accuracy of fire. Therefore, Sergeant Kassim concluded, Ribu and Rangan would have to follow the plan outlined before them. He drew and sketched the positions of the Japanese officers and their followers and the plan of attack.

From the edge of the jungle, war whoops responded and hundreds of Iban warriors appeared to converge rapidly onto the sand bank in three huge streams: towards the longboats, to aid the hunters, and to rescue the local Defence Corps who were but prisoners in actual fact.

Ribu and Rangan nodded in agreement and disappeared.

As the Sergeant watched, the men on the beach were gathering round the cooked rice to begin their meal.

"Ma-kai-i!" An Iban hunter stood up shouting. The word was clearly heard by the sergeant and his men, and signalled the moment for action.

From the edge of the jungle, war whoops responded and hundreds of Iban warriors appeared to converge rapidly onto the sand bank in three huge streams: towards the longboats, to aid the hunters, and to rescue the local Defence Corps who were but prisoners in actual fact. To the sight of the men on the sand, the hordes of warriors, shouting and with swords and spears poised menacingly, were a sight to remember if they could live throught the attack which was about to occur. Surprise and terror paralysed them memontarily.

    Second later the Japanese Officers and soldiers sprang into action and grabbed for their side-arms and Samurai sword. But the hunters who had bounded to their feet at the shout of "Makai!", were already upon them before they could use their weapons. The enemy fought barehanded valiantly, yelling with rage and screaming with mortal wounds. The parangs and spears took their toll. One enemy, more agile and fortunate than the rest of his compatriots dodged and fended off attacks with a broken stub from a spear. He fought and ran, weaving, followed by a number of attackers, heading for the longboats.

    But the huge stream of Iban warriors who had raced down the beach, were between him and the boats. They closed in on him. He moved away, running madly towards the river and dived in. his pursuers stopped short and sent a flight of spears at the surfacing enemy thirty feet off-shore. The spears fell harmlessly as the fierce current carried him out of range and sight, apparently to his death.

    He was, however, to survive, and reached Kapit by perahu. The occupation  authority at Sibu was informed of the Iban uprising assisted by uniformed men. A platoon of soldiers despatched by a Chinese launch reached Kapit two days  later, only to withdraw downstream amidst heavy gunfire. Landing was imposibble. On either bank of the river, war whoops resounded. The jungle was alive with roving bands of Iban warriors. Fighter-bombers increased activities along the stretch of the Rajang River below Kapit to deny its use the enemy. Launches and perahus not well-camouflaged were sunk by sharp-eyes pilots. These fighter-bombers were welcome sight. The local population  waved and shouted joyfully at them. Many exciting tales were attributed to the ability of the pilots who could recognise friends from foes.