Joining the SAS

When I was eighteen, I decided to join the army. I was very happy at home but wanted adventure. A friend of mine, Steve, suggested we join the SAS (TA). In those days they didn’t have the reputation they have now, as the regiment was made up of about one hundred clerks, a few regulars and the TA.

Among other things we learned unarmed combat, survival skills, Morse code and map reading, using a prismatic compass, in preparation for the selection course which included being left by ourselves in the wilds of Scotland.

One time we arrived at the barracks on a Friday evening and were told that we wouldn’t be departing for the usual weekend camp till the next morning so we could either go back home and come in early or sleep on the hard floor of the barracks – we decided to have a drink and sleep rough.

After our quick drink we wandered through the fog of the city and found a piece of waste ground which seemed quite remote till we woke the next morning to find a bus load of people looking at us; you see the word “tent” never came into the conversation either there or when we got to Scotland; we slept under the stars with a poncho wrapped around our sleeping bags and our heads sticking out and this was what the people on the bus saw as we lay there.

Steve had woken up, in the night, just as some drunk was walking across the waste ground. As Steve sat up, the drunk must have thought he’d seen a ghost and rapidly sobered up enough to muster a run and a scream. I still have this image of him running with his jacket streaming out at the back and a scream so loud you’d think he’d seen Godzilla.

After about a week of manoeuvres, in Scotland, and a lot of shouting “you won”t hide anything from me, laddie, I have eyes like a shit house rat’ we went on the last part of the selection course.

Miles from anywhere we were driven along lonely winding roads, which were at the base of canyons and moors and on the hillsides we could see smatterings of sheep and grass and then nothing; just big hills and the sky.

A name would be called out and a trooper would struggle with his back pack and rifle through stinky bodies, given a six figure map reference and a time to be at the RV (rendezvous) and that was it.