Why After Thirty Years I still Haven’t Weaned Myself From The SAS.

Mid 1970s, a young Bob returning to Bradbury Lines from a run.

Who Dares Wins has always been the motto of the SAS.

It’s actually a whole lot more than a motto, and here’s why:

When government, diplomats and generals are stuck for a resolution to a foreign policy security problem, it will point to the SAS…that’s just how it was done in my time of the mid-70s, through the 80s, and on to the mid-90s. The same can also be said for domestic policy security problems, such as the Troubles in Northern Ireland to the Iranian Embassy of May, 1980 in London.

The main difference between the SAS/SBS and the rest of the UK military back in the day, was that the former had little to no backup when deployed.

I’ve taken part in operations where the modus operandi was taken away from us altogether. Instead, a preferred option was given to us purely for political reasons.

Just like military doctrine over millennia, unless there is no other way, you never fight the enemy on ground of THEIR choosing. The preferred is for you to fight the enemy on ground of YOUR choosing.

However, with the flexibility of change, there were times when the option was against us for political reasons, and even with the knowledge of that, we stepped up and got on with it.

In my time, there were voices of opposition within the ranks, many voices. To the point where we lost both an amazing squadron commander and an equally amazing and sound troop staff sergeant. They were not going to have their men led to slaughter in their opinions…putting the lads first over their own careers.

One of my first operations as a young green trooper, was to ambush a weapon hidden inside a length of plastic pipe in a ditch out in the countryside. There were two of us only, an awesome old hand Fijian called Fred, and myself. I had it in my mind that this was my baptism, let’s see how the young laddie gets on with this?

In the middle of the night, 3 silhouettes appeared, walking along the hedgerow. They stopped by the weapon. We were about 30 yards away and both had our safety catches off, ready to fire if our lives were in danger.

As the front silhoutte began to bend down towards the weapon’s location, he coughed.

Both of us had our sights trained on him. Both of us simultaneously hesitated.

Fred, the seasoned SAS soldier, and Bob the green new trooper, reacted in the same way. The sound of the cough came from a young laddie, not a mature adult.

They had brought out a young laddie to seek out the weapon!

All three silhouettes could have been taken out by both of us in a heartbeat.

But no, we’re human, we’re also humane, and the two dragged the lad off quickly back towards the way they came from…towards a farm complex in the distance.

The weapon was retrieved as we still covered it by our security forces, an item of death taken from our enemy. And later back at base, Fred and I chatted over a brew and an egg banjo about how we both reacted, despite our years of different operational experiences.

We also concluded that, given the task again, we would react in exactly the same manner. We talked about it in another theatre of conflict years later. And writing this today in my early 70s…the same.

I mention this today, as covered by the media in the last few weeks, the SAS is still being hounded by lawyers and shafted by the government.

There are times when we kill, and there are times when we don’t…we are not lawless!

I spent more time in the SAS saving lives than taking lives.

Old men being victimised by simply having done their job, a job that they were sent on by the government.

I could write for days about how we reacted in times of operations over a 20 year period, all over the globe. But I think this one simple example sends a message.

22 SAS are highly skilled operators. We’re humans like everyone else. We live by our motto Who Dares Wins. But on operations, we’re humane too, unless death and destruction has just been carried out, or is about to be carried out, endangering civilians, other security forces or ourselves.

Today I still miss my time in 22 SAS Regt. I miss the lads, and I’m disturbed by those lads who struggle in old age with mental disease from years of operations and realistic training. Those who are being penalised by our own government, some of whom could well be suffering as mentioned, and of course, those great mates who have passed away.

I write this with a message to our government too. Take off your suits, take your pasty, pampered arses to the hills, and walk a mile in those old men’s boots. Talk to them, learn from them…and ultimately protect them, as you sent them. They don’t deserve any of this in their last years, they have dignity and respect, they’re my brothers.