The Killing Moon Read online

  Most of the days were spent running up and down the Brecon Beacons with huge weights on his back and the sun was bakingly hot. Rob combatted this by getting as much fluid as he could inside himself. The routes became more and more difficult, and not only this, Rob noticed the routes were getting longer and longer. However, to Rob, this just meant he was getting closer to the endurance march on the fan dance which would be the final test on the Brecon Beacons.

  In between checkpoints, he would get asked a question, and seemingly pointless questions at that, such as, 'What's twelve times thirty-four?' 'Who is the Home Secretary?' 'What colour was the car on the parade ground this morning?' Rob answered these as best as he could, but it was hard when all he could hear inside his mind was his heavy breathing. Some of the instructors would say to Rob, "Remember this number," and then they would reel off six digits and tell them to disclose it at the next checkpoint, which would be four hours march away. Occasionally, the weather would turn, and the rain would come, which was a relief to Rob, when his body temperature was so hot. But also, by the same token, this made the ground underfoot slippery, and Rob had to take more care not to fall over and twist his ankle.

  In the evening, when the day was over, Rob would get a shower, get something to eat, make light conversation with the other recruits, and then get an early night. The funny thing was, he slept easier. It was almost as if he was too exhausted to do anything else, but Rob knew he could make the grade.

  A week later was test week where all the recruits took part in the notorious fan dance, an extremely taxing endurance march on the Brecon Beacons. Several times on the 'dance', Rob saw other students exhausted on the side of the mountain, but this just spurred Rob on further, giving himself nothing but one hundred per cent although, even by Rob's standards, he wasn't sure how much left he had to give. By the end of the exercise, only forty or so recruits had made the grade. Although Rob was proud of himself for achieving such a lot, he was under no illusion that selection was over.

  Chapter Seven

  Rob, with the rest of the recruits, had a well-earned break of a week. Then, it was back to continuation training. It was here that Rob seemed to come into his own, skills such as fighting in built-up areas, weapons handling, demolition skills, photography, driving skills, parachute training. Also, he learnt some of the black arts, involving various forms of espionage, including how to make fake IDs as well as more basic skills such as medical skills, not just in the field but the regiment sent the remaining cadre to various hospitals in the UK to work in their casualty department.

  The regiment even brought in hardened criminals in order to teach the recruits various criminal activities, such as how to break into a car and hotwire it. Also, these misfits gave lectures on how to break into safes, the best way to burgle a house, what tactics you need in order to be a successful shoplifter. All skills that could be useful to an SAS operative. All the time, Rob and the other recruits were constantly being assessed. Not only on what they'd learnt, but what they'd experienced. Again, Rob took to this, lapping up all the information like a kitten with a bowl of cream. Although this month on selection was not as taxing physically, mentally there was a lot of information to absorb in a short space of time. Although two or three of the other recruits saw it as a month to go on the piss, again Rob just kept to one or maybe two pints of Guinness throughout this period, determined to make the grade.

  By the end of the second month, there were thirty recruits left. And although Rob made conversations with them, he did not want to get too close to any of the others in case they didn't make it to the end. Again, he felt like he was a loner, and it was around this time that the directing staff picked up on this.

  After another week off on leave, the regiment sent the student body to the jungle in Belize. As soon as Rob stepped off the plane, the sweltering heat hit him like a cake being brought out of the oven. All Rob did for the next month was sweat. When he got to the jungle, all he could see was a sea of green and within the first few days, one of the recruits started to come down with claustrophobia. The directing staff soon picked up on this, and the individual was taken from the jungle, never to be seen again. He was not going to make it either.

  Rob lost count of the number of insects that were feasting on his skin, and when the rain came, it was like a monsoon. He also lost count of the number of snakes and spiders and other nasties that he had seen whilst painstakingly trying to map read through a constant green enemy. However, one of the good things about being in the jungle was the fact he got a good twelve hours sleep in his hammock, as there was no movement on a night, due to poor navigation.

  The regiment lost another ten blokes on this phase of selection. One was bitten, and came down with a chronic fever. One or two others decided selection wasn't for them, and just quit. A fourth, however, received an ultimatum in the post from his wife, a letter which said his marriage was over if he didn't stop this soldiering nonsense and come home. The rest were failed because of poor soldiering skills, lack of discipline, or wrong attitude. The remaining twenty or so recruits headed back to the UK for the final phase of selection.

  It was this phase that would ultimately tax Rob more than anything he had ever done before.

  Chapter Eight

  Major White had a mixture of feelings regarding the student body, some he thought were first class, and this included Foster. However, some still needed to be tested. Most of all, he was relieved that no one had died this year on selection. In previous years, during winter selection, soldiers had frozen on the Brecon Beacons. Also, summer selections had seen guys succumb to heat exhaustion and this was quickly jumped upon by the national press. It then fell upon Major White and the rest of the team to inform the next of kin. No matter how many times he had to contact the families, the job never got any easier.

  Behind closed doors, in Major White's office, were the rest of the directing staff. This included Sergeant Nott. Nearly all of the staff had lost or gained money placing bets on who would make the grade. Chalky never encouraged this, but didn't feel it was a disciplinary matter either, as it had been this way for years.

  "Right then, guys, of the student body we have remaining, what are the relevant facts and information you can tell me about them?"

  Sergeant Nott was the first to speak. "My money's on Burnsey and Foster, boss. Burnsey's showing great leadership skills, and he's not frightened to get a bollocking. Also, Foster has given 100%, and seems to be quite a tough bastard, even though he tends to keep to himself."

  Chalky remarked, "Does that mean he doesn't go with the flow, Sergeant, or is he an introvert?"

  "I'd say a bit of both, boss, I think he works well on his own, that's where his strengths lie, but, again, I can't say he wouldn't be an effective member of the team."

  Chalky turned to the rest of the directing staff. "Has anyone got anything to add?"

  Trooper Collins, who was new to the training team added, "I agree wholeheartedly with Sergeant Nott. But I noticed, when we were in the jungle, Foster often had nightmares and talked in his sleep. This may be PTSD, boss, given his previous history."

  "I see," said Chalky, and thought for a moment. "Well it's obvious Foster will do OK on escape and evasion, I've no doubt about that. But the screws are gonna have to be turned on the resistance to interrogation phase. If he's of a weak constitution, then the intelligence and psychology team need to pick up on it. I don't want any of the lads that pass to crack in the field."

  "We'll get on it, boss," replied Sergeant Nott, and within half an hour, the meeting was concluded.

  Chapter Nine

  The remaining student body, including Rob, were ushered into a classroom to be given a briefing on the final exercise. At this point, most of the student body had bonded quite well, and again, this was not a priority to Rob, as he just wanted to pass. The training team entered the classroom, followed by Chalky White. Chalky then made his way to the front of the class to address the student body.

 
"Morning, gentlemen, and congratulations for making it this far into SAS selection. Everyone in this room has proved themselves to be of good calibre and the type of men who we require in Special Forces. However, the job is not over yet, gentlemen. The final phase of selection will last two to three weeks and includes the escape and evasion, followed by the resistance to interrogation. The latter is where you are well and truly tested. When I arrived here today," said Chalky to the remaining recruits, "eighteen of you have made it to this point. However, do not think you have passed selection yet. I expect to lose another five to ten of you at the end of these next few weeks. Follow the rules, and keep to what you've been trained, and you may pass SAS selection. Good luck, gentlemen, and I will see you on the other side."

  Chalky then turned to Sergeant Nott. "You can take over from here now, Sergeant."

  "Right then, guys, when we leave here in the next hour, you will all be strip-searched, and given ill-fitting clothes to wear. Obviously, these will be army khaki green and may not fit properly, however, you are not to disregard this clothing and change into anything other than what you have been issued. Also, there will be a series of checkpoints where you must make contact with an agent in the field. From there, you will be given another checkpoint in order to rendezvous with another agent accordingly." Nott then added, "Has anyone got any questions at this point, guys?"

  Everyone looked like they understood.

  "Whilst on escape and evade, you will be given an old tobacco tin filled with a fishing hook and line, waterproof matches, a small penknife, and other things that you would need in the field, if you were on the run. You are to live off the land for the next two weeks, whilst you are pursued by a hunter force who have all the most up to date tracking equipment available to them. Let me make this clear, guys, you are not to use roads, you are not to enter buildings. Do not approach members of the public, should you come across any hill walkers. Also," he added, "no money or personal documents are allowed on this exercise. Anyone who does not understand this, say so now."

  Again, the room remained silent.

  "The hunter force, I believe, are the Parachute Regiment, and they have all been given a heads-up that if you are caught, the para that catches you, will get three days paid leave. Another thing I should make clear, guys, at the end of escape and evade, we'll proceed immediately with resistance to interrogation. Basically, from the moment you are caught. This is a two-week exercise, guys. If you get caught on day one, then you have thirteen days of stress and interrogation to go through. So, if you're gonna get caught, make sure it's at the end of the exercise. Think of it this way, if you've been in a combat formation and the enemy have taken casualties, they're not gonna be thinking when they catch you, 'we're gonna treat you kindly', or follow the Geneva Convention to the letter. What the enemy will be thinking is, 'These bastards have just done my mates, let's do them'. Also, on the interrogation stage, you must always," and reiterated, "always, keep your mind focused. Square away, lads, get kitted out, and get to the stores. We leave in the next hour."

  Two hours later, Rob was sat in the back of a four-ton truck with the other eighteen recruits as the vehicle made its way on a cold December morning through the villages and fields of South Wales along the A40.

  Sergeant Nott wasn't wrong about the ill-fitting clothing. The overcoat was too tight, and the trousers were too baggy. In fact, Rob's were held up with a piece of string, and what clothes Rob had on did not keep the biting wind from piercing his torso. Fortunately, Rob had the good sense to get a good breakfast that morning, because he did not know where his next meal would come from, but he was quietly confident he could cope with the demands of this phase of the exercise.

  The sleet was pouring down when the truck stopped on a moorland which could have been in the middle of anywhere. The directing staff then ordered the men off the back of the four-tonner, and then paired up the remaining students in twos. Each pair were sent off in a different direction every ten to fifteen minutes. Rob got Burnsey, all the time Rob was thinking he would leave him at the first opportunity, knowing full well, two men together in the hills would stand out more than one. Burnsey pretty much had the same idea. When the last of the teams were dispersed, the directing staff climbed back aboard the four-tonner just as the weather looked like it might snow, and it was obvious the temperature was going to fall to minus degrees. The chase was on.

  Chapter Ten

  Although it was ten a.m. when Burnsey and Rob set off, the light was dim and grey, and on the mountains that you could just make out, were hard and unforgiving. Both the recruits did their best to stay clear of open ground, both fully aware that they could not deviate from the rules of entering buildings or using roads. Burnsey and Rob made light conversation with each other, which seemed to break the tension between them, and both agreed at the first rendezvous, they would go their separate ways.

  Four hours into the march, and the temperature was still just above freezing, and both men did their best to insulate their ill-fitting clothes with some damp straw which they found in an open bale, disregarded by the farmer for the cattle on this bleak and harsh afternoon. As they approached the first checkpoint, both men could clearly see two of the training staff sitting in a Land Rover, and it was obvious they were warm and were enjoying a nice cup of coffee, one of them smoking at the same time as Rob and Burnsey felt like their fingers were about to fall off from the cold.

  Burnsey turned to Rob and said, "I'll do this one, mate, you wait here. If it's all clear, I'll give you the nod, and then I'll be off."

  "Okay, mate, good luck with the rest of selection."

  Both men then shook hands whilst Rob tried to bury himself in the most prickly and unwelcoming bush he could find. Rob watched as Burnsey approached the vehicle but could not hear anything that was said because of the howling winds echoing around the Beacons.

  Less than two minutes after the contact, Rob noticed Burnsey put one hand on his head and then half a second later, with the same hand, made the thumbs-up sign. This meant all was clear at the checkpoint. Thirty seconds later, Burnsey disappeared from view. Then Rob continued to go forward to the Land Rover to see what his next RV would be.

  "You warm enough then, Foster?" said Collins, as Rob approached.

  "Freezing my tits off, thank you, staff," Rob replied.

  "We've got coffee and sleeping bags in the back of the vehicle if you wanna quit."

  'Smart arse' thought Rob, but he bit his lip, and replied, "I'd sooner continue with the exercise, if it's all the same, staff."

  Collins took a drag on his fag, and then answered, "Well done, mate, just keep going,"

  Rob then got the following coordinates just as the light was starting to fade, and then pressed on into the night, fully aware that the Parachute Regiment would now be on the Brecons, looking for each individual SAS recruit.

  Three days into the exercise, and the cold was no less merciless. Every now and again, Rob would hear dogs barking, and he knew the hunter force was in the area. But he would combat this when the coast was clear by keeping distance between himself and the hungry pack of wolves out to get him. One of the first things he'd learnt whilst on selection was that although bloodhounds could smell you from up to two miles away, the scent would not extend over running water. So therefore, Rob would find a stream and cross it, ignoring the freezing temperature, and then cross again, further upstream, in a U-turn. Every now and again, Rob saw teams of the Parachute Regiment with pick-axe handles, furiously looking through the undergrowth for their prize. But again, Rob would double-back and get out of the vicinity as soon as he sensed his pursuers.

  With every day and night that passed, Rob was more encouraged. Although he had not had a full meal, he was quite pleased with himself that he had managed to catch at least one wild hare, as well as poaching salmon from the nearby streams and rivers. However, Rob was cold and extremely knackered, but by the same token, at no point did Rob ever think he was going to quit, and he press
ed on with sheer bloody-mindedness keeping him warm on a cold winter's night in Wales.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rob found a copse of trees tucked away on the side of a valley, with the mountain slanting up beside it. He checked the area, and it was clear. So cautiously, he made his way to the side of the copse. It was dark and the only voice in his head was that of the wind blowing against the trees. Rob started to realise how absolutely shattered he was, and knew, that if he was to keep his mind focused for the interrogation stage, he would need to get some sleep. He found a dip along the side of the copse that he felt was not too obvious, and then climbed into the hole, and wrapped his overcoat as much as he could around himself. He shut his eyes, and tried to ignore the cold.

  What seemed like fifteen minutes later, Rob heard the sound of a bloodhound howl in the distance. Rob shook himself awake and rubbed his eyes to make himself alert. He looked out over the bushes, but could see nothing. Then he scanned as much of the horizon as he could, and then to his left, less than four hundred metres away, were the sight of flashlights, combing the horizon in single-file.

  'Shit,' thought Rob to himself. 'I've got to get out of the area sharpish,'

  Less than a second later, and Rob felt a sharp pain on his leg. He fell to the ground, and looked up, and the silhouette of a menacing-looking para was stood there with a pickaxe handle in his hand. Then the para yelled to his troop. "Got one here, lads! Edge of the copse, to the right." Within the same sentence, the para then hissed, "Three days paid R&R thanks to you, sass boy."