I approach the SBS team leader first, moving in front of him. He is a tall muscled man of about six-foot-two inches, and he has a hardened face enhanced by a long scar that moves diagonally down the side of his right cheek. I would put his age as early thirties.
“Name and rank?” I ask the burly operator.
“Sergeant Dixon, Sir.”
“Speciality?”
“Demolitions, Sir.”
“And your team?”
“Corporal Downey, Medic, Lance Corporal Kim, Signals, and Trooper Collins, Sir.” Each man stands to attention when his name is called before reverting back to ease.
“Thank you, Sergeant, fall in,” I tell him and he immediately steps back, falling back in line.
The SAS team leader is slightly smaller than the SBS leader but is still quite a unit of at least six foot. He is also slightly younger and doesn’t have the hardened look of Sergeant Dixon but is rugged nevertheless.
“Name, rank and troop?”
“Corporal Simms, Air Troop, Sir.”
“Speciality?”
“Linguist, Sir.”
“And your team?”
“Lance Corporal Watts, Demolitions, Trooper O’Brian, Signals, and Trooper Thomas medic, Sir.”
Again, each man lets me know who they are by standing to attention when their name is announced, and Corporal Simms falls back in when I’m finished with him.
“Okay, men, fall out, and get you kit out of the vehicles, get it checked and await further instructions.” They obviously arrived just before the Lieutenant and me because none of their kit is in the hangar yet. “Sergeant Dixon, join me when you’re finished.”
“Yes, Sir,” he replies.
My watch tells me it’s 0947, only thirteen minutes remaining until Operation Denial starts.
“Lieutenant Winters, can we get a feed of Operation Denial on those monitors?” I ask, pointing towards the tables.
“Yes Captain, I will be able to link us into the feed, I’ll get on it immediately.”
“Good, and while you’re doing that, I’ll get changed.”
“Your gear is over here Boss,” Dan tells me, “I got changed in that small office at the back.”
“Okay, thanks mate,” I tell him. “How are you doing, Alice?” I ask on my way over to collect my gear.
“I’m good thanks, Andy, I was a bit confused when they plucked me out of my new unit. We were gearing up to move out, back into London,” she says.
“Sorry if I ruined your plans, Alice.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I was in no rush to get back into that rodeo, our whole Platoon looks nervous as shit, including me. Dan and Josh have filled me in as to why I’m here and it’s a much better bet. Thanks, Andy.”
“No thanks needed, and I do hope it is the better bet; this isn’t going to be the main event but it’s still high risk,” I tell her seriously.
“Yes, it is, but I’d rather be doing my part with this team than the nervous-looking bunch of freshmen I’ve just left.”
“You may be a Yank but you’re one of us now,” Dan interjects.
“Who you calling a Yank?” Alice asks Dan, smiling.
“How did Em take your news, Dad? Josh asks, then looks around looking sheepish, in the hope that none of the Special Forces were in earshot of him calling me Dad.
“Well, I was a bit sparing with the truth. I told her I had work and meetings around here and didn’t mention what we really are doing, so she was fine. She had a grump because she is bored, but that was all.”
“Definitely for the best,” Josh says in agreement.
“Right I had better get changed,” I say as the new men start to bring their gear in and Lieutenant Winters gets the computer screens on. “Would you like to join me, Dan?”
“How could I refuse such a tempting offer, Boss?”
“Keep calm mate, I just want your take on the new arrivals.”
“How disappointing, but come on then,” Dan jokes as he starts towards the small office, he got changed in.
The office is small, with one desk squeezed at the far end that leaves just enough space on one side to get around to the chair. Dan goes around the side of the desk sideways on, to get to the chair and he sits heavily down into it, then swivels to the side and looks out of the one window that looks out into the hangar. I close the door and stand behind it to get changed which gives me at least some privacy, putting the holdall with my gear in onto the floor.
I bend down to unzip the dark green holdall and inside, I immediately see the sand-coloured beret synonymous with the SAS, with its famous winged dagger insignia and the motto ‘Who Dares Wins’ running across the dagger, placed on top. Bittersweet feelings run through me when I see my new beret, having given so much to ‘The Regiment’. I could never have imagined I would ever contemplate wearing the beret again, but contemplate I do. Is there any need for me to wear the beret, and do I even want to? Technically I’m not even in the SAS and will it rub the four SBS members of our team up the wrong way? I pick up the beret and look at it for a moment before reaching over to the desk and putting it down until I decide.
“Bet you never thought you’d be putting that on again?” Dan says with a hint of concern.
Dan knows all too well what effect being in the SAS has had on my life, it has come up several times when the two of us have been drinking and putting the ‘world to rights’. He shares many of the same issues from his time serving as a Royal Marine Commando, the waste and horror of the battlefield, friends and comrades lost and the effect it all has on you and your loved ones back home.
“You’re not wrong there, it’s a bit of a head fuck mate, to say the least,” I tell him.
“They just keep coming lately and something tells me we’re not finished yet. Look on the bright side; at least you won’t have to
