by Jason Fox
When readying myself for the trip, I knew that my meetings with various cartel members were going to be sketchy, but there were a number of occasions when I genuinely feared for my life. At one point, we were driven through the jungle to meet with a cocaine ‘chef’ – a dude producing kilos and kilos of powder from a shack in the middle of nowhere. Such was his notoriety, he wore a bandana to disguise his identity at all times, and the atmosphere was tense. En route to our meeting point, we’d been instructed to swap cars. The ride was done at night and it was imperative nobody spotted us. Had someone from the cartel noticed a car full of strangers, they were more than likely to open fire first and ask questions later, fearing we were Feds. As soon as we were dropped off, I noticed the headlights of another car approaching along the road. Our fixer for the meeting went into a panic.
‘Get back into the car!’ he shouted. ‘They’ll kill you if you’re seen.’
We dived into our seats again, crouching down to avoid being spotted as the vehicle raced past. Thankfully, we were unnoticed – for now. By the time we’d wandered into the woods to meet our ‘chef’, tensions were running high. It was still dark, but as we filmed him working, the sun started creeping in through the trees. A feeling of nervousness arrived with it. It was obvious that we couldn’t leave in daylight – we’d be easily spotted by any other narcos in the area – so we were advised to wait in a shack with those kilos of freshly batched coke and some very scary people. By mid-morning, however, our presence had been noticed by a passer-by. Word spread and soon a number of locals had gathered outside. The fixer was now very edgy.
‘You have to leave now,’ said the chef, anxiously.
I nodded. Quickly we gathered our kit and scarpered, a four-man team legging it through the woods, carrying random bits of camera equipment, until we’d reached the pick-up point. Thankfully another ride was waiting for us. We jumped into the back of a truck and covered ourselves with various bits of tarpaulin, clothes and bags – anything to avoid being spotted by a passing gunman. And all the way I kept my mind fixed on one simple thought.
I can’t wait for that rooftop beer with Aldo.
The idea kept me sane during several terrifying hours as we drove back to the hotel.
Resetting is also vital in the wake of a positive experience. How often do we hear of couples falling into a bit of a slump in the weeks following their honeymoon? It’s an understandable experience, really. For a soon-to-be-wed couple there are months, sometimes years, of planning and preparation to work through. The process is both exhilarating and exhausting. But once the wedding has happened and the party is a distant hangover, what comes next? It’s easy to be overwhelmed by the normality of married life if the void isn’t filled with another stimulating activity or event.
The same thing happens on expeditions to remote places. Explorers climb mountains or trek across Arctic wastelands, but once back in the safety and civility of Heathrow airport, they hit a mega-downer. Life seems mundane, the expedition bubble pops and it can take a while for the rhythm of life to feel satisfying again. The experience of moving out of war zones without an acclimatization phase has taught me that any period of healthy resetting is vital for an individual following an exhilarating life experience. Following a kayaking trip I made to the Yukon River (see Phase 12), I actively used my flight home to reset: mentally I’d registered those hours stuck in a seat on a long-haul flight as a chance to emotionally adjust. I stared out of the window and watched the epic landscape below, looking weirdly benign from thousands of metres up.
Wow, I thought. That was an awesome expedition.
I relived the experience in my head with a few beers, then I checked out mentally with a couple of in-flight films. By the time I’d landed, I was reset and ready to slip back into home life again. Without the manic emotions that can sometimes overwhelm a person after a life-affirming experience, I was soon back to normal speed and ready to plan my next adventure.
OPERATIONAL DEBRIEF
❱❱ During moments of defeat, or events where you might be falling short of your targets, take stock – conduct a Sensitive Site Exploitation. Note the areas in which you’re not working well or breaking down, then figure out how you can improve upon them next time. It’s much easier to absorb what’s happening in the moment, rather than trying to remember the events and details during the days, weeks or months afterwards.
❱❱ Always debrief after missions or challenges have been concluded, whether you’ve been successful or not. Improvement only happens when we’re willing to assess our strengths and how to maintain them. Understanding our weaknesses and where we can improve is equally vital.
❱❱ In team settings, remember that everyone is capable of gathering a snippet of game-changing intel, regardless of their rank or experience. Set up your system so that everyone involved can forward important notes or any ideas they might have.
❱❱ It’s important to reset after any lengthy mission or period of time where your strengths have been tested. Likewise, make sure to relax in any moments of downtime during challenging periods: don’t waste mental calories that might be needed for the next battle.
❱❱ Remember the two rules:
1) Don’t rest in the aftermath of success.
2) Never ignore the frustration of failure.
SITUATIONAL AWARENESS
THE VALUE OF BOREDOM
War could be bloody boring for long periods of time. The phrase Hurry up and wait seemed to best illustrate what most elite military units experienced during missions. We’d race to a location or base, revved up on adrenaline, only to stand down because our target had moved or because the weather, or some other tactical factor, prevented us from attacking at the time of our choosing. Sitting around in a mess hall and killing time was an occupational hazard for many blokes trained in the art of extreme warfare, and the common complaint I’d hear from most operators was one of boredom.
‘Fucking hell, I want it to kick off,’ they’d say.
But a funny change in attitude usually set in once the rounds were ripping over our heads and mortar fire was exploding around us.
‘Bloody hell … I’m not ready!’
For a long time I shared that mindset. But after a few tours I came to realize the importance of making the most of too much time with nothing to do. Boredom presented me with a chance to recover for the next operation. Having become familiar with the unpredictable schedule of combat, I learned to live in the dead hours between jobs. As soon as a sense of listlessness kicked in, I’d adjust and function in the ‘now’.
Yeah, I’m bored, I’d think. But at least I’m alive – and no one is trying to kill me.
I used those rare moments as periods of rest, closing down my brain as best I could while conserving my energy for when life inevitably turned noisy again.
The problem with certain aspects of modern life is that we’re rarely given the opportunity for boredom. As soon as our brains feel an onset of tedium, we reach for distraction: Twitter, Facebook, Instagram. These are great ways to pass the time, but they’re also boredom-killers, and boredom is vital if we’re to become more resilient. Boredom gives us the space to breathe, to reflect, to create and to plan. Within it, we can rest and be more effective when our energy is called upon for more important tasks. And sometimes, without boredom, we can become frazzled to such an extent that our resilience fails us.
Quite often on SAS: Who Dares Wins we’ll come across an individual with a hectic headspace. They lead overly busy lives; due to their work, a tricky home or personal situation, or some deep-seated behavioural issue, they’re unable to switch frequencies. As a result, they only know how to operate at a hundred miles per hour. Without boredom or periods of rest and reflection, they’re unable to see their way through sticky situations or to problem-solve. They’re constantly set to a flight-or-fight setting and their adrenal glands become shot; they buzz around the barracks or mess around with the other recruits when they could be resting or re
-evaluating. When tested, they inevitably fail in ugly circumstances.
Everybody can find time to unwind and relax, mentally and physically. Put down the phone for a designated period of rest. Switch off the laptop once work is done. And dream.
Bloody hell, it’s boring isn’t it?
But that’s the whole point.
PHASE ELEVEN
CASEVAC: Counting the Cost of Battle
Nobody’s psychologically bulletproof. Regardless of our experiences, expertise or strengths, each of us takes a hit from time to time. As I’ve explained, fuck-ups are an occupational hazard when striving towards resilience. But how we react to those mistakes and setbacks is what defines us. Sure, the emotional IEDs we step on will feel devastating in the moment, but that’s when the ‘bouncebackability’, the desire to keep learning and growing, becomes so important.
Occasionally the hurdles we come up against are so big that they can’t be faced alone. This is where life becomes difficult: being involved in a serious accident, experiencing a major life-change or watching a family member struggle with terminal illness might sometimes act as the detonator in a mental explosion which, if left unchecked, can wreck our lives and those of the people around us. In situations of that kind we’re usually presented with a stark choice: go it alone, or put pride to one side and ask for help.
The first option might feel like the easiest path – it’s certainly gentler on the ego. But I’ve discovered throughout my military career that acting as a lone wolf doesn’t usually work, while teamwork and expert assistance are everything.
Admitting to someone that we’re unable to cope is a smart move. But it’s also challenging, and too many people bottle out of asking for assistance. They get scared; they’re too proud to admit their shortcomings or the severity of a perilous situation they’ve stumbled into. But the inability to make that courageous first step can prove costly.
Operators get hurt on missions, sometimes fatally. I’ve been fortunate, though. During my service I managed to avoid getting taken down by a round, but some lads I knew weren’t so lucky. Some mates died during gunfights; others have had their lives changed for ever by a sniper or an IED. Given the incredibly high-risk nature of our work, all elite military units included medics within their teams. These weren’t civilians working in a war zone, however. Rather, they were expert operators with the capabilities to treat bullet wounds and other types of injuries someone might expect to receive in the theatre of combat. Their training focused on trauma treatment; it was their job to learn how to control any bleeding while stabilizing a patient. This gave them the basic tools to help when someone copped a round from an AK-47 or stepped on to a landmine. Life as a military medic was gnarly.
There comes a point in many military missions where one or more soldiers might become incapacitated, either physically or mentally – sometimes both. When the lives of their brothers and sisters are at risk, as in war, they might attempt to shrug aside those wounds in order to finish the mission, but that can have dangerous implications later on, for the individual and their team. There have also been countless stories of explorers losing their minds to fatigue while working through dangerous expeditions. Having approached a distant shore after months of sailing across an ocean, for example, severe exhaustion kicks in. The person’s brain goes into meltdown and they make fatal decisions they would have avoided had they been at full strength. But if the explorer had radioed for assistance, they would have received the help required to complete their expedition. Likewise, had the injured soldier recognized the seriousness of their predicament and called a medic, the impact of their injury could have been minimized.
THE VALUE OF RAISING YOUR HAND
When the chips are down, most of us are too proud or too scared to ask for help. I’m not talking about the kind of assistance someone might seek out in a tricky moment, such as a bank loan during a period of limited cash flow or extra manpower when the workload becomes unexpectedly heavy. I’m talking about those events when our egos feel threatened by failure. Presented with a potential loss of face or a diminished sense of status, we ignore the safe ports in a storm. We don’t call for assistance on the radio. We fail to shout out to the medic in our unit. I’ve heard of so many projects, lives, relationships and businesses that have fallen apart because somebody was too proud to raise their hand for assistance. The affected individual then pressed on alone, not realizing that to be patched up and CASEVACed away from a dangerous situation creates an opportunity to heal and recover before fighting again. Instead, they remain silent and bleed out.
Let’s stress-test this attitude against one of the scenarios we’ve already mentioned in the book: the example of a failed marathon runner. Feeling frustrated at their lack of success and a little embarrassed by any inadequate preparations they might have made, the disappointed athlete thinks, Sod asking anyone for advice. I’ll crack on with another race attempt, alone. They fail to contact a trainer or physiotherapist – someone in a position to understand exactly why their body failed during the race. The intelligence at the runner’s fingertips, such as online information, running magazines and local athletics clubs, goes untapped. As a result, they lose out on a wealth of knowledge that might have helped them to avoid the mistakes of their earlier marathon attempt. Elsewhere, a potential support group of friends and family, unaware of the emotional challenges facing the athlete, isn’t able to lend a helping hand.
Sometimes, though, the stakes are much higher.
It’s not uncommon for people to experience a serious emotional upheaval from time to time. But how we react to it can be the difference between recovery and becoming stuck in a dangerous spiral of depression. Shame and fear leads to a weird form of emotional paralysis. Rather than seeking expert help and leaning on the people closest to them, an emotionally wounded individual battles through their predicament alone, either pretending to the outside world that they’re OK – all the while internally burning – or publicly suffering a breakdown. In my case, ego wouldn’t allow me to ask for expert help. I also closed myself off from friends, family and former colleagues until I became so lost that I considered killing myself. Had I called for assistance sooner, there would have been any number of friendly faces willing to help me out; a therapist or counsellor could have eased me into a healthier state of mind. But having become lost within my depression and pride, I couldn’t see the escape routes.
There are many reasons why a lot of people, men especially, seem unable to ask for help when they need it most. Upbringing is partly to blame: some people are encouraged to develop a tough exterior from an early age, when they are told that emotion is a sign of weakness. But that’s bollocks and fairly outdated as an idea. We all feel pain – or at least we should when it’s appropriate – and expressing that vulnerability is a release valve. Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not claiming that everyone should turn into wet lettuces at the first sign of a challenge. What I’m saying is that silence is a dangerous thing when it comes to emotional pressure. Like a wounded operator on the battlefield, to ignore the broken ankle, or to pretend that a wound isn’t as serious as it really is, can be a dangerous choice. However, calling out for assistance gives an injured soldier a fighting chance at long-term success. It’s the same with mental health.
Some people might claim that asking for professional help, or admitting to mates that you’re in trouble, isn’t a very resilient thing to do. But is it resilient to end your life because you’ve been unable to see your way out of a scary or emotionally fraught situation? Because that’s the nuclear option many people consider when pressed with seemingly insurmountable problems. I’ve heard too many horror stories of former soldiers who started an evening with their family, eating dinner, acting like the life and soul of the party; they’ve then quietly excused themselves for a walk and the following day they’re found dead, having decided to end it all by suicide. Often there’s no explanation. The reasons for their actions go unknown and it’s a tragedy.
/> Given my own past experience with mental health, I’ve attempted to emotionally bombproof my life to such an extent that hopefully I’ll never again find myself standing on a cliff edge, looking down and wondering, What would it be like to fall? By working with expert therapists and counsellors at Rock2Recovery, I’m able to chat through any tricky issues I might be managing before they become too much of a psychological burden. Part of my role as an ambassador for the company is to encourage clients to seek out the professional help best suited to them. For me, overall, exercise is probably the biggest key to my emotional well-being. When I’m not away filming, I like working out with a bunch of lads I respect. We get together, train hard and sometimes go for a pint afterwards. As well as being a physical commitment, those training sessions provide a pressure valve. The blokes I work out with are tough as nails – alpha males who will happily take the piss out of one another given the slightest opportunity. But between us we’ve created an environment where we can openly talk about some of the bad shit that’s gone on in our lives, without judgement or criticism.
Not all my mates are like that. Some of the circles I move in wouldn’t tolerate that kind of conversation. In those groups, expressing any emotional upset is viewed as a weakness and subject matter of that nature is dismissed pretty quickly – and that’s cool. The point is this: I have another outlet if it’s needed. It’s there for when my life gets turbulent; I’m also on hand to help anyone who might be experiencing dramas of their own – with work, at home or within their family. When I’m among the group I train with, simply opening up in the right environment or listening to a mate’s advice can be enough to help me course-correct emotionally.