The 4.30am fight between the cocks over their harem of hens, wake me up from slumber. Chasing away my one-night stand partners of mosquitoes, I didn't miss a heartbeat as I slung the camera gear onto my back, jumped into my boots without even looking and walked into the still pitch blackness hopping onto the back of my guide's motobike as we sped off to catch that 5.30am sunrise......well, almost.

We turned back to put on my underwear

Complex thoughts and mental check-lists are running through my mind as we speed along the rutted track. Could I find it? Or maybe even a few of THEM? They're so damned elusive and rare. Did I bring that piece of paper which would mean the difference between life and death? The OBJECTIVE had to be met or precious shooting hours would be washed away with the flowing waters of the river.

I stepped off the bike and sauntered down to the riverside where a row of rice barges were moored. I had planned and dreamt this weeks....no....months in advance. Cool morning mist lifting off the mighty Mekong in Northern Laos, where the Secret War was fought in the '70s between the CIA and the Communists. A peeking orange fireball peeks over the horizon as the rice barges come to life with morning activity.

The OBJECTIVE would have to wait as I settled down to the secondary task of composition. Rice barges and deck hands shioluetted in the mimist against a glorious sunrise.

With the magic early daylight gone and the initial shoot done, I had to meet the OBJECTIVE or risk an early ride back. With growing urgency, I walked half a kilometer to a tiny river-side settlement with my guide.

Little children running around in early morning play ran back into their homes as I approached. The look of a silent but deadly serious single-mindedness transended language barriers as the women folk scooped up their washings and gave me a wide berth, like ants running for their lives out of the way of an elephant in a foul mood.

The first clue came.

I spotted a hut plastered with beer ads that I assumed was the local center of entertainment and social interaction. Running under the thatch, I met the bewildered gaze of a young man boiling water and preparing ingredients for the morning's customers.

"Ask him!" I barked at my guide. "...and Kill him if he doesnt give the information!" as my fists clenched into a ball, ready to strike down any sign of Resistance.

In rapid fire Lao, questions were asked, and replies were given. The coffee-shop assistant's life was spared....for now.

My guide whispered into my ears. I nodded on his every word.

"Good Job! Now keep an eye on him while I finish what I came here to finish"

Putting down the camera gear, I walked to the back of the shack, weapon in hand, ready to take down anyone waiting in ambush in its dark corners.

With one swift kick, the door flew open . I held my breath in anticipation as I stepped in, gun cocked and loaded. There it was....."FIRE IN THE HOLE!!!" screaming as I switched from single shot to Auto and unloaded a whole liter of piss into the toilet. "Yes!!!! Die you Sonofabitch!!! Die!!!!"

Like John Wayne, smoke spiralled out of its barrel at the end of the shoot-out.

Reaching into the depths of my pocket, I pulled out that piece of paper that meant life or death, crushed it in my hands and squatted down as I finished the job with a bombing run that would be the mother of all bombing runs in Laos.

The End

Postscript: As a photographer moving into new areas, often the obvious like necessary research, equiptment preparation are thoroughly considered, prepared and executed to ensure a job that would yeild a handful of satisfactory pictures to work with. Often times, its the little things that will make or break a day's shooting. One of the most important being knowing as soon as possible where the nearest toilets are whenever one is in a new and unfamiliar locale. As much as I would like to hide this story behind the lable of a "Fictitious Story", it was an actual incident that happened to me. And a lesson that's carved itself into the back of my head.