'Steve, it's for you.'
'Who is it, darlin'?' I shouted from upstairs.
'Excuse me, who's calling?' asked Alison.
'It's Pierce Brosnan.'
'Who ?'
'It's Pierce Brosnan, Steve sent me a copy of his book and …'
'Oh, I'm sorry, Mr Brosnan, I'll just get him.'
Alison handed me the phone turning her face up, indicating that she wasn't sure who the caller really was.
'Hello, who's calling please?'
'Ah, Steve, it's Pierce Brosnan …'
The caller, making out that he was Pierce, carried on talking about how much he was enjoying reading my book. I must say that it did sound like Pierce but knowing how good Billy is at impersonating famous film stars I let the voice go on for a bit before I interrupted and said, 'Listen, Billy, wind your neck in, will yer, you don't sound frig all like James Bond, what's your point?'
'No seriously, Steve, it's me, Pierce Brosnan.'
'Fuck off, Billy, you twat.'
'No, no. Well done on your book, I really like it. I'm reading it now, on the set of Tomorrow Never Dies and I've got a few minutes so I thought I'd give you a call to thank you …"
It was then I realised that it really was Pierce Brosnan on the phone. We spoke at length for about 30 minutes but every so often he would get a call, probably from the director of the film, and he would say he would have to go, then just as quickly he would say, 'Oh that's alright, they don't want me now,' and would carrying on talking.
'Yeah, I've still got that Green Beret Billy gave me. I think the kids use it as a duster!' he concluded jokingly.
'I know what you mean — they're not as coveted as the maroon one. Green ones are two a penny,' I replied. I struck up a good banter with Pierce.
He was particularly interested in my description of 'fitting up' for a HALO jump, which he said he was going to re-enact in a few days' time. He reckoned that I should seriously consider writing a film script about the battle for Goose Green and that if I didn't mind, he would put me in contact with a friend of his who was a very good screenwriter to help me along. Did I mind!
I gave what Pierce Brosnan had said to me a lot of thought. After all, he knew his business and knew what might or might not be a good story to be made into a film. So I took his advice and began to put pen to paper once more, all along knowing that the famous bloody British victory at Goose Green had never been made into a movie. I could only wonder why, but if someone as famous as Pierce Brosnan said, 'Go for it,' then why not!
So Billy and I started to work on a screenplay. That was a year ago and since then life has gone at an extraordinary pace. In the summer of 1997 Billy was working on Steven Spielberg's blockbuster movie Saving Private Ryan as stand-in for Tom Sizemore, who was playing Sergeant Horvath. This was a stroke of luck as far as I was concerned. I'd never been on the set of a big film before, especially a war movie, and this gave me a much-needed insight into just how a movie gets made. I met with all sorts of behind-the-scenes technical people, actor Tom Hanks's make-up artist, the assistant directors, the renowned Captain Dale Dye, the film's military adviser, through to the security and catering people.
You could say I had a two-day crash course on movie-making and to top it all I had the greatest honour one could imagine, and that was to meet with Steven Spielberg and most of the film's cast: Tom Hanks, Tom Sizemore, Matt Damon and Jeremy Davies. This experience definitely made it far easier to understand what it takes to write a screenplay.
Needless to say, all those actors got a copy of Terminal Velocity and it was really encouraging to see Matt Damon in the mock-up of a Normandy village, dressed up in his US Rangers uniform and reading my book in between his scenes! I felt very humble that an actor of his stature was reading about my military experience. When he later said to Billy he found it fascinating that here he was playing the part of a soldier in combat and reading a true account of what it was like to be in a war situation, it was very gratifying, to say the least.
Finally, after the few weeks of filming in the grounds of the old British Aerospace factory in Hatfield, just outside London, all the crew packed up and moved back to Hollywood. During this time Billy and I had got to grips with the basic gameplan of our screenplay and were going full steam ahead with it, effectively spurred on by Tom Sizemore even though he, too, later flew back to Hollywood.
A couple of weeks after Tom left we got a call from him, asking how we were progressing with the script and inviting us both over to LA to finish writing it in his Hollywood apartment. He said he was off filming another movie and we could both have the run of his place without being disturbed. What could we say? We both jumped at this opportunity, and within a week boarded a Virgin flight for Los Angeles International Airport, each with an open return ticket in our pocket. I mean, you've gotta take these once-in-a-lifetime opportunities when they present themselves, haven't you?!
When we arrived in Hollywood, Tom and his actress wife Maeve Quinlan gave us the complete tour of the town. We were treated like their special guests — really, they couldn't do enough for us. Both Tom and Maeve are great hosts, and wanted to help us to succeed with our screenplay by introducing us to as many of their showbiz friends and getting us into as many doors in the film industry as they possibly could before they shot off.
Some weeks before, I had booked a well-earned holiday with Alison to the Caribbean, and as most travellers do for a long flight, we grabbed a load of reading material. I picked up the usual Newsweek and Time magazines and Alison bought a load of glossies and, completely by chance, one, that particular week's Hello magazine, had a five-page spread on Tom and Maeve, all shot in their fabulously decked out apartment overlooking LA in West Hollywood. Had anyone said that just a little later Billy and I would be spending six weeks in that same apartment, I would have thought them slightly on the mad side, to say the least!
I don't think I'm a natural writer, I find I really have to concentrate when I hit the keyboard, but when I do the hours just fly by. I can look at my watch and it might read midday, and the next time it'll be five or six in the evening before I get up and get some scoff or have a brew. It's only then, when my concentration is broken, that I feel mentally drained. I don't have to work in a totally silent environment, I can quite easily do it in a crowded restaurant or with the radio on, but the noise has to be constant. If, for example, the phone rings then I lose all concentration. Luckily, Billy works very much in the same way, so we complemented each other.
Perhaps this has something to do with our combat experience, being able to perform under a shower of bullets maybe! This was the first obstacle any team of writers has to address: compatibility with each other. The other one, of course, was that writing a screenplay is a totally different discipline from writing a book; the layout is completely different too. It took us a couple of days to get our heads around that, but after a crash course on screen writing (reading the many screenplays that were lying about Tom's apartment) we reckoned we had the basics of this new art.
Sometimes (but not all the time) I would start work during the day and sleep at night whilst Billy took the night stag and slept during the day; but more often than not, when I had had my fill of writing, Billy would be there standing over me waiting for me to vacate the seat. We worked in unison, just as the Number 1 and Number 2 on a machine gun would, feeding the machine gun with bullets — only this time it was feeding a lap-top with words. For the first few days we were so engrossed in what we were trying to achieve that we only went outside and across the road for a re-sup of fresh scoff. By the end of the first week we were so mentally bollocked, we had forgotten that we were living smack bang in the centre of Hollywood and hadn't even seen 'the lights' yet.
On the second Saturday, we decided to sample the delights of Sunset Strip. We did a lot of bars that night out and finally ended up in an Irish bar called Dublin's. Now Billy and I had both been to the US many times before and understood that the Yanks aren't that
big drinkers — but that didn't stop us, we were going for it. A couple of hours and several bottles of Bud later, Billy and I noticed a really smart waitress dressed in a tight white blouse and long black boots and sporting a cowboy hat, walking round the place with a tray full of colourful-looking chasers. She and her sexy smile came smooching over to us.
'Hi guys, I'm Suzy. You ready to try something from my tray now?'
'Nice one, Suzy, I'll have a green one. What one you havin', Devs?' said Billy.
'Gotta be that pinky maroon one, hasn't it?'
At three bucks a shot we necked them down in less than a second. I got the feeling that this was going to be the start of a Para/Marine drinking contest. I was right.
As Suzy turned round to talk with a friend, she put her tray of coloured chasers on our table. Billy then picked up another one and knocked it back in one. I followed suit until the tray was empty. When I downed one, Billy would go one better. A second tray of 20 arrived and we did the same to that too — totally demolished it in a matter of a couple of minutes. By now we had an audience, people were laughing and clapping us on, and I guess that Suzy had never had it so good, two punters doing two trays all at once. But it didn't stop there. Billy, not one to give up or get beaten by an ex-SAS man, ordered yet another tray. This time we agreed that blue was a neutral colour to us both, so we ordered a tray of the blue jobbies. Then we gave that tray the same treatment as the previous two. Billy and I were keeping a childish but very drunk eye on each other, checking the other didn't spill a drop as we continued to drink one-for-one. I remember thinking as I was getting more pissed, this Marine is no way gonna beat me, fuckin' cabbage hat! Billy was probably thinking the same about me: Fuckin' Para twat!
I couldn't remember leaving Dublin's Bar — all I remember was waking up the following morning, still fully dressed, covered in this slimy blue-green puke — to the sound of the security phone ringing. Billy just about made it to the phone, only to find that Jeremy Davies, the actor from Private Ryan , had come up to visit us. Billy had to tell him, sorry but there was no way just yet; we were both wasted for the day at least.
Some weeks later, after we got the bottle to return to Dublin's, we were just about to join the entrance queue when one of the doormen spotted us and called us forward. He held the door open for us. Billy and I just looked at each other in amazement. Why were we being treated like this? What had we said or done the other week? Was there an outstanding bar tab to square away or what? We had no idea.
'Hey you guys. How ya doin' tonight?'
'Great, fine just fine,' I beamed.
'Toppers mate, toppers,' added Billy.
Once inside, we tried to look for Suzy, since she was the one who could tell us what the hell had happened that night. It turned out to be her night off, but we did find out that we had broken the bar record for chasers on our first visit. Shit, I thought. We had certainly done something more than just have a few too many! We were treated like real regulars from that day on.
Back on the writing front, things were going great. Tom's phone is quite busy and our concentration was always being broken, which I suppose was a small price to pay when people like Robert de Niro — one of Tom's closest mates — used to ring up to pass on messages for Tom. The first time de Niro called, Billy spoke with him.
'Hello, Tom Sizemore's residence, who's calling please?'
'Hi, it's Bob, I'm calling from Europe, is Tom there?'
Excuse me sir, Bob who?' Billy was rummaging around on a table looking for something to write a message on.
'Oh, it's Bob de Niro, who's that?'
'Oh, OK Bob, I'm Billy. I'm looking after Tom's place while he's away.'
After the call Billy told me that he'd wanted to quote that famous line from the classic film Taxi Driver , where de Niro was talking to himself in a mirror saying, 'Are you talkin' to me? Are you talkin' to me?' but he had to stop himself, first impressions and all that said. I'm glad he didn't, because I don't think de Niro would have phoned up again for fear of Billy taking the piss out of him again.
There were many interesting calls during our stay but a classic one (and a bit of an omen) was when Billy's girlfriend phoned us up from the UK saying that Tom Hanks's PA had been in touch with her — Tom wanted to know where Billy was because he wanted to talk with him, reference the Falklands. The long and short of it was that Tom Hanks had recently had dinner with his actor friend, Johnathon Schaech, who had played alongside Tom in the film That Thing You Do! , and who was shortly flying out to the UK to play the part of a British Army soldier, from South London, suffering from post-traumatic stress brought about by the Falklands War. He wanted to know if we could do him a favour and give Johnathon a rundown on what it was really like in the Falklands War. We were both honoured, while Billy was both amazed and very pleased that Tom Hanks had remembered him from the Ryan set.
We met with Johnathon in Snake Pit Bar on Melrose. He was a really nice guy and he too gave us a lot of advice and encouragement. It was Johnathon who mentioned a new software called 'Final Draft' which was basically an idiot's layout guide to screen writing, which we eventually purchased. We spent the next three days briefing him up on the score, and when he flew out to the UK, we managed to get hold of another mate of ours, Smiler (who was also an ex-Royal Marine, living in South London), to take him around the pubs to get his accent up to scratch. Smiler also managed to get him down on the Royal Marine Commando Training Centre at Lympstone in the West Country for two days for a 'beasting' session on the assault course, which I think Johnathon was thankful for — in the long run! Well, I can't think of anything more realistic for an actor who wants to play the role of a soldier than a good couple of days getting booted and screamed at in the pouring rain; it's all good 'character-building' stuff!
We were living the Hollywood dream — well, the first part of it anyway — and it gave us so much inspiration. Here we were, in the middle of Hollywood with the sun shining every day, being hosted by one of the world's most admired actors and driving around in his cherished classic Chevrolet convertible, meeting all these other actors and film producers! We both felt very indebted to Tom and Maeve for all their support and hospitality, during and even after our stay. Most mornings were spent up on the apartment's roof garden, overlooking LA, writing and gazing across at all those other possible screenwriters sitting in their well-maintained offices with their ideas, hopes and dreams. The same as us really, but all we had was the basics: a lap-top, a sackful of war stories and a shedful of inspiration. In the afternoons we would take a walk down to Barney's Beanery for something to eat, the same bar where the late Janis Joplin ate her final supper, and where Quentin Tarantino has his breakfast on Sundays.
We managed to finish the screenplay, The Stowaway , and had it read by all the contacts we had made. Of course, it seemed that every man and his dog in Hollywood had a script to sell and was trying to get an agent to represent them — and now we are at that same stage as this book goes to print, talking to those film agents. We've done a couple of re-writes and as everyone who's read the screenplay says it's a great story, we're very optimistic about the future. But it was Captain Dale Dye, Ryan's military adviser, who gave us a 'reality check' (as he liked to call it) when he said, 'Right, now you guys, you've done the easy bit and that's writing the damn thing in the first place. Trying to convince these "weenies" [his term for people in the industry] to turn it into a film is another. You know it took eight years or so to get the first camera rolling on the movie Platoon but, hopefully, you guys won't have to wait that long. If you guys believe in it, you've gotta give it your best shot.'
From one meeting that happened when we were pursuing our goal in getting The Stowaway into production, another canny encounter resulted. Billy got a copy of the screenplay to a friend, the actor Sean Bean, so he could give it a quick read and offer us some advice. So shortly after we got back to the UK, Billy rang him up from my place. Sean said that he'd only had time to read half the script
since he'd only recently returned from working on a film with Robert de Niro in Europe.
'Hey, is that right?' Billy said.
'Yeah, I didn't get a chance to meet with de Niro, I was only filming for a short time. I wish I had, though.'
'Well, Steve and I wrote The Stowaway in Tom Sizemore's apartment and Bob used to call us up quite frequently,' said Billy.
'First-name terms, Bob now, is it?' said Sean, jokingly.
In summer 1998, Saving Private Ryan was being premièred in London's Empire in Leicester Square. Billy by now was working full time for Tom as his PA and security manager. Tom invited Alison and myself to the occasion; he was concerned about security and asked me to BG him, along with Billy. We spent three great days being wined and dined at the Dorchester Hotel, courtesy of Tom and Maeve Sizemore. We were certainly given the celebrity treatment, but this was not the first time Billy and I had trod the 'red carpet', because when we were in Hollywood we went to the world première of The Jackal staring Bruce Willis, another one of Tom's pals.
I was getting to like all this 'arty farty' way of life and was thinking, Maybe this is my ticket to get out of the security industry — but on the other hand, pigs might fly. At the end of Ryan I felt physically shaken and really couldn't think straight for about an hour after. For me, the film was amazing visually, a brilliant piece of work. Coming down the stairs of the cinema with Tom to meet the world's press for a second time, Tom said:
No Fear: The True Story of My Deadly Life After the SAS Page 26