It wasn’t too much longer before I was dragged back into the thick of it all. I had been out walking along the coast with Anna from Cawsand to Rame Head and back through farmland on a 12-mile walk which was one of our regular routes, oblivious to what had been unfolding out in the Middle East. We got home and sat down to dinner in front of the TV to be hit with the news about Lebanon. Fighting had broken out between Israel and Lebanon. Fuck, I was immediately transported back mentally to the Middle East. It was all over the news. There had been cross-border attacks into Israel and rockets fired into border towns as a diversion, whilst further missile attacks on Israeli forces had seen two soldiers killed and reports of others abducted into Lebanon. I was hoping it hadn’t got anything to do with my last op with the boys. I hadn’t heard back from Baz, Pierre or Hugh but that was normal, they always disappeared for months at a time, it was their thing, and I had tried so hard to distance myself. I hadn’t heard from them, I didn’t want to; I had isolated myself from them in a veil of guilt because of what had happened on that patrol boat. To face Baz after what had happened and explain everything would be too much. For me to have to justify my life over Cheesy’s would be impossible to do and I didn’t want to go over it all again.
Eventually the phone call came, the sound of inevitability ringing loudly and persistently in my own home. I was to get an RAF transport from Brize out to Cyprus before organising a way into Lebanon. Baz had finally poked the hornets’ nest in Beirut and all hell had broken out; retaliations for acts no one had laid claim to were the results of my old team at the helm. They were claiming they had Asad pinned down in a small town on the Israeli boarder called Dhayra. A full evacuation of British citizens was already underway from Beirut, with multiple British warships being used as ferries from Beirut to Cyprus, so there was plenty of opportunity for me to get out there and see to it that Asad, the last name, was taken off the Steering Group’s list. Fuck, it was the last thing I had expected but secretly knew it was inevitable. Anna drove me to Brize Norton where I got an RAF transport out to Cyprus.
I landed in Cyprus to be greeted by an empty arrivals hall and no onward travel arranged for me by the Steering Group. My instructions were clear: get to Beirut, meet the team, all haste. I had full authority to commandeer or utilise anything to get me there. I walked out of that arrivals terminal in Cyprus and casually walked down to the apron at the end of the terminal building where there were several helicopters and some transport planes. I caught sight of a friendly face fucking around loading a navy Lynx helo. A casual conversation between me and the pilot and I had a ride out to a frigate that was going into Beirut to pick up refugees. I had my taxi booked and we left that evening. I think it was a 10-hour crossing by sea from Beirut to Cyprus so the refugees didn’t need too long aboard the navy transports. My pilot put me on the deck of a Type 22 frigate 10 miles off the coast before we went into Beirut bold as brass.
I wasn’t confident in any way undertaking this final assignment, and my heart was in my mouth as I went up to the flight deck after being called over the ship’s tannoy. Baz was there. Fuck. We looked at each other, and emotions rose in my mind and in my heart. He just stomped over that flight deck, grabbed me and gave me a bear hug as though he were one of the refugees meeting a loved one for the first time in years. He simply held me at arm’s length and let me look at him for a few moments before he said that he knew it was no one’s fault and he was pleased I had made it out. He held out his hand, a shovel of a hand, and said:
“Hey, we’re still brothers, nothing breaks the bond, what is done is done. We all knew the risks, so stop being a dick and come and help me fucking kill this cunt Asad.”
I laughed, gave that big fucker a hug and we fucked off down the gangway and off the ship into the town for one last dance. Keith and Hugh were waiting in a Mercedes truck behind the dock barricades, and as we drove out of that city we caught up with all the shit we had done since we were last together as a team. My stories of the patrol boat flowed like a river; I didn’t hold back and I think they appreciated the truth, how fucked up it had been. No blame, no sarcasm, just the understanding I would only ever receive from my brothers. They knew, they had endured worse, they had heard of our struggles and were powerless to assist, dealing with their shit here in Lebanon, the team spread thin to deal with too many pieces of the Gulf War puzzle. We had all seen and done all that was required to complete this fucking list, and now it was Asad and his team who would reap the wrath of our losses, our frustrations and our finishing strokes to our masterpiece of intelligence work.
Of course, it would have been easier to just call in an air strike to a pinpointed target, but we needed a confirmed kill and not a newspaper headline declaring Israel had killed hundreds of innocent civilians. We had to be patient, calm, collected and methodical in our planning to ensure a clean kill and an uninterrupted unpublicised extraction. The satisfaction would be all ours knowing we had taken care of our business and remained anonymous. Of course, after we had concluded our mission I would, out of courtesy, you must understand, give my friends in Israel the photos, addresses and coordinates of all those they would want to engage with to conclude their business. Their methodology wouldn’t be as subtle as ours and I knew Avner and Shmuel would want a little time to talk to a few of those who dwelled in that house in Dhayra. Their end would be something I would not want to witness or hear about.
The team had set up a surveillance operation diagonally opposite the house where Asad and fuck knows who else had set up their border town base. The comings and goings were frequent, with the team capturing everything on film. It was a typical scenario, the six of us against an entire legion of terrorist activity, but it was soon clear what was happening. The house was an HQ for satellite strike teams dotted along the Israeli border. It was hard for the guys to keep up a good reconnaissance of all the destinations and individuals but gradually we put together a family tree of all Asad’s relatives, which included Iranian and Russian connections. This was a whole new set of people that the Steering Group would have to go to work on. Not in my time though, I was too close to the end of my career; active operatives never really go beyond 38 years old, only if they’re in a sleeper or long-term mole position, which is usually the case if you’re able to keep in a family or organisation in more of a non-combat role.
Keith and I set up our little camp amongst the others, Baz, Hugh, Pierre and some new guys Taff and Bomber (surname Mills – think WW2 RAF). It was a shit apartment, and I didn’t leave it, not even for a single breath of fresh air. It was five rooms, all tired whitewashed walls, paint peeling off, only mattresses on the floor to sleep on, those super-cheap shit ones that you can fold in half and put in a suitcase if you want to. There was very little other furniture, just a big table and five chairs. The floor was carpeted in that hard-wearing blue industrial shit that was badly fitted throughout, even in the kitchen. Fucking kitchen looked like it had been used by drugged-up students, with pots and plates stacked high in the sink and the tap dripping over the top, creating a water feature effect through and over the pans and bowls. The dustmen would need to do a good job after we had left, far too many giveaway signs, including Yorkshire fucking tea boxes and Bisto gravy granule tins left lying around the place. Either that or I would need to ask Avner to just blow the fucking place up after we had vacated.
Some evenings it was generally quite entertaining watching one of the guys prepare a meal under a single light bulb hanging down in the kitchen, all of us trying not to take the piss. Lots of card games and fucking Uno, which is impossible to play quietly and shouldn’t be played when all your opponents have loaded weapons pointed at you as you hand out a series of ‘pick up 4’s!!! It was a great couple of weeks just watching, observing and recording everything including the attacks against Israel. It wasn’t too long before the green light was given by London to end the party and extract back to Cyprus. Keith and I would finish what we had started with a multi-hit sequence from the apartm
ent and another building further down the street. We decided to execute our orders at the first available opportunity on a Tuesday morning because we were pretty sure this was when Asad greeted his Russian friends into the house.
Keith repositioned himself with Taff and Bomber on the rooftop of the other building whilst Baz covered my rear. I had my mattress on the table in the living room with the window open facing the front of the target building, sniper rifle rested on its tripod, Hugh with the search sight, heart beating, feeling the gentle breeze through the window as I shuffled a little to get absolutely comfortable.
Russians arrived, deep breath.
Simple operation coordinated over comms.
Asad outside with two companions.
Photos taken, recorded and transmitted.
Confirmation to execute over comms.
Permission granted.
First round away, recoil, the echo interrupted by Keith as he let off his first round.
Two targets down, rapid repeat fire, six down.
Pause, looked up at Baz, smiled, and then we were fucking out of there and on the road to pick up the next British ship out of Beirut.
I know what happened next because Avner confirmed the utter destruction of the entire building we were occupying as well as the house Asad had been using. He simply sent a communiqué to the Steering Group thanking us for all the presents we had sent him for his birthday. I was back home within a few weeks after a piss-up in Cyprus to celebrate the end of my career.
I spent the next year in Plymouth doing crap jobs in a pre-release draft. I spent most of my time doing what I wanted. I basically worked shifts on the gate and in the armoury: week of days, week off, week of nights, two weeks off. I enrolled into some serious education to keep my mind busy as I planned my exit into exile for 10 years to New Zealand. It’s pretty standard shit. After working for the Steering Group you are encouraged to disappear somewhere safe – New Zealand, America, Canada or Australia; some operatives choose to go completely off grid into the depths of Africa or Thailand. I was keen on New Zealand and took Anna out there a few times trying to convince her this was a great move after the navy, and my retirement…
We moved out to New Zealand to begin our new lives together. It was a struggle at first to get settled but that was all part of the plan. I wasn’t retiring, I was just getting started and was about to enter into a new role for the Steering Group outside of the combat world. It wouldn’t be too long before I was flying around the world as a delegate, meeting all the right people in all the right places and conducting business on a much, much higher level. But that’s a whole other story.
Brotherhood
I have heard it said that God uses our past to be of use in our future. I am attempting to use some of my past to be of some use in the here and now, with my time with you and those who get to meet me. There appear to be so many similarities between the stories of warriors and kings in the Bible and my military past, some I may be afraid to admit.
I think in life we meet many people who cross our path but few become our friends. From what I’ve seen, God wants us to have brotherhood and fellowship gathered for a common purpose, his purpose. If we are together then we are strong, divided we are weak. Just like my time in the military. I was only strong when I had my team around me. We can’t be an army unless we have brotherhood with each other and be close as true friends. I have heard of the love of God and what that is supposed to mean to believers, and it sounds like something I really want. I think it was a kind of love I had for the boys in my unit and my teams.
I have had the privilege to lead men and I think there are many similarities between the military and the Church, be that a temple, a mosque or your friend’s house. In the military we would have a commander in chief. Jesus is sort of my commander in chief now. I guess the military would have generals or combat commanders like God has angels and saints – it’s a parallel organisational tree.
Apparently, our common purpose in life is to do God’s will and spread the good news. I’m not sure about that, I have a selfish quest right now which is to just feel some peace in my life. But I understand following a good leader, and Jesus seems to be a good choice after the realities life has shown me. I feel we need to be united in friendship, and through this love of God we all might find our peace or the love we all so desperately seek to do this life together. It matters not what race, religion or country you are from, we are all brothers under God, whatever name you may call him.
I struggle sometimes and need a point in the right direction. I’m guessing that others are struggling too. But to follow a commander or leader, we need many things from them, or qualities we can relate to or simply want; honour, respect, loyalty and integrity.
Honour – I think we need to be thankful for the gifts God gives us and those around us. I’m just thankful to be here, pleased to be alive I guess. If you do not love someone you do not honour them. Let’s honour each other as brothers. Love binds us together to achieve the impossible. My past has shown that if we create bonds they are hard to be broken. I loved my friends to the end. I want to find that love and honour again. I’m thinking this isn’t a bad thing and maybe God would like this.
Respect – I commanded respect from men, and they followed me, but we can show respect through our love of each other. His Unfailing Love, Psalm 51.
Loyalty – I want to be loyal to my God – I do not want him to abandon me, or for me to abandon him. Deuteronomy 31:6 says: The Lord your God is the one who goes with you, he will not leave you or forsake you.
Integrity – To be honest and trustworthy with God and each other. I’ve chosen to try as hard as I can to be honest and trustworthy. I’ve lied heaps to fit in but it never worked. I’ve pretended to be someone else but it’s just impossible to keep up.
To understand what brotherhood is we need to understand what a friend is and what sets that apart from just mere acquaintances. A friend is supposed to be someone we have an intimate association with and is a favoured companion. I guess as believers in God we should look to Jesus to be that person, but we need to show each other that same closeness because life is damn tough.
To share the pain of loss and the joy of birth or marriage with an equal zeal. If I am to be part of his army, of his Church, then I need to trust people again, and eventually I guess care for you even when it feels impossible, even when we are betrayed or in pain ourselves.
Do you have a companion, a friend who will walk with you through all that life throws at you?
Psalm 68:6 says: God places the lonely in families. Who is your family?
My friends and my best friend followed me into battle and we fought together. They followed me because they believed. We stood together because we loved each other with all our hearts, we had shared brotherhood together, intimate friendship through fun times and hard times, through laughter and sorrow.
My best friend took the pain for me on that day; he saved my life. He was badly hurt but his love for me was greater than the pain he endured.
John 15:13: Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
I had very nearly lost all hope, I was lost and in trouble, but my friend stayed with me… HE DID NOT LEAVE ME. He stayed with me wounded and in pain, he held me in his arms and loved me when all things looked to be over. He held on to me when I had given up. We must be able to do this for one another in everyday life. Look after your brothers and your sisters.
God can help us in our struggles, by us being together. We can help each other, through our lives and to find a way with God. It matters not who we are or where we came from.
When you are in pain, trouble or simply alone, do not abandon each other – draw closer and you will reap rewards, for we will be seen to have loved our friends above ourselves.
Allah is with those who are in service to others.
You shall love your neighbour as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than this.
&nbs
p; Hurt not others in ways you yourself would find hurtful.
He who saves a life saves the world entire.
That which is unfavourable to us, do not do that to others.
The Steering Group
References
Chapter 2 Film – The Stanford Prison Experiment. 2015 – (mention only) Coup d’etat Films / Sandbar Pictures / Abandon Pictures
Chapter 2 Film – Karate Kid – 1984 Columbia Pictures (mention only)
Chapter 3 Film – Monty Python – The Meaning of Life 1983. Celandine Films / The Monty Python Partnership / Universal Pictures
“John Cleese ends up shouting at himself as the sgt major marching up and down the parade ground on his own”
Chapter 4 Russian toast – the story of the wolf – Original Source unknown to me at the time of writing this book. Reference found to a source in ‘Pravda’ author Evgeniya Petrova. I cannot determine if this is the original author.
Chapter 5 Film – Titanic 1998. Twentieth Century Fox / Paramount Pictures / Lightstorm Entertainment - Leonardo DiCaprio
“like a thousand knives stabbing you all over”
Chapter 5 Military Jokes –References found online at Upjoke.com / Filing Cabinet.com and many others. Original author not known at the time of writing this book.
Chapter 7 Mention of Cauchy’s integral formula 1840– Augustin- Louis Cauchy 1789 to 1857
Chapter 8 Film – We Were Soldiers – 2002 Icon Entertainment Ltd / Studio Canal - Mel Gibson – mention only
Chapter 12 Winston Churchill, PM 1939
The Steering Group Page 49