Narrow Escape (A Spider Shepherd short story) (2 page)

Nearing the end of the training phase, Shepherd was both slightly surprised and immensely proud that he still had not been sent to ‘Platform Four’ for failing the training, but he knew that the E&E exercise was not only the last stage, but also the hardest.  It always took place right at the end of Continuation Training, when the final decision was made on whether the trainees were good enough to join a Sabre Squadron, and Shepherd knew that the failure rate was high. 

The night before they began the E & E, The Bosun called them all together for a briefing. ‘Inside the Regiment,’ he said, ‘an E & E exercise is considered to be the pinnacle of professional soldiering.  It is the individual without any kit or assistance against the enemy, the terrain and the climate, using his military skills to achieve an objective.  Even if you fall short and are captured, the opportunity is still there to redeem yourself, depending on how you deal with the interrogation that will follow.’

The Bosun explained that E & E was so important to the Regiment that every badged soldier and officer must do an E & E every couple of years.  In the Sabre Squadrons this was usually achieved by an exercise abroad, leaving the UK by Herc, parachuting into enemy territory with no kit and making an E & E across very hostile terrain. In Cold War days, many were held in Denmark and the Danes got into the spirit of it so much that they practically closed the whole country down. They advertised the exercises on television, showed pictures of typical hides and bootprints, gave children a holiday from school to take part in searches and offered prizes for information leading to capture. It was the ultimate test: you were good or you were caught. According to The Bosun, the new favourite area was in the French Pyrenees where the troops of the Parachute Battalions of the French Foreign Legion take great delight in trying to get their hands on the famous SAS men.

‘Foreign trips are for later,’ said The Bosun.  ‘First you have to complete an E & E in those Welsh hills you already know and love. You’re known as “runners”, the guys looking for you are “the hunters”, and as well as you novices, there will also be a number of senior SAS guys doing the exercise - not that you’ll see any of them, of course.’

‘What do you think?’ Shepherd said to McKay as they were walking back to their quarters.

‘About what?’

‘About E & E. I reckon that given a little luck most of us guys should be able to evade the enemy forces. It’s the Welsh countryside, how difficult can it be?’

‘It’s not about evading capture,’ said McKay. ‘Everyone gets caught eventually. All you’re doing is postponing the inevitable.’

Shepherd frowned. ‘You don’t think we’ll get brownie points for evasion?’

‘Sure. You don’t want to get caught right away. But the longer you stay out there, the weaker you’ll get. And you’ll need your strength to survive interrogation. That’s the phase that worries me, the interrogation thing. I’ve heard little or no talk about the Resistance to Interrogation part and that’s what I’m dreading the most.’ 

‘I guess so,’ Shepherd said. ‘Maybe that’s why there’s been no talk, because no one wants to think about it.’ 

Over the course of their Continuation Training they had gleaned various bits of information about the final exercise from the instructors. ‘Beware shepherds,’ one of the instructors told them.  ‘Not you, Spider. The guys that look after sheep. They’re on the hills every day riding on horseback or quad bikes.  If they see you, they will normally travel miles to check you are OK, but when an E & E is running, they’re given a few quid to report your whereabouts to HQ. So if they spot you, you’re not operating correctly.’

Another instructor had offered Shepherd some advice about the interrogation phase. ‘If you’re caught and your captors hit you, it’s out of frustration,’ the instructor had said. ‘It’s because they figure that you are unlikely to talk, so chalk it up as a small victory. The better you’re doing, the harder they’ll hit you.’

Such well-meaning snippets of information only heightened the tension within the group. They were under no illusions: they knew that however well they performed their E & E, they would at some point be caught and interrogated - the point of the exercise was how long they could avoid it and how well they resisted it when it did happen - but they were all unsure about what was involved during the final phase.

The night before the exercise, The Bosun gave them a final group talk. ‘Fear of capture by the enemy underpins much of the SAS philosophy,’ he said.  ‘The Regiment was formed to operate behind enemy lines and so, by definition, we will always be operating where we are outnumbered and will face a very high risk of being captured. It’s believed that the bond of friendship will inhibit any individual from jeopardising a friend’s life. So to counter the problem of guys talking under interrogation, patrols are kept together for years, if at all possible, and are only split up reluctantly if patrol members have irreconcilable differences.  In the Squadrons this is known as getting divorced, and it’s pretty unusual.’ He paused, allowing his gaze travel around the room and making eye contact with each of the eleven men listening to him. ‘Now, let me say at the start, there is no training system which can really prepare you for the reality of being interrogated.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘But we do the best we can. When you are captured, you will be beaten up by the hunter force troops.  How severe the beating is will depend on how hard they’ve had to work to get hold of you. You will be shackled from the moment of capture and sometimes they like to use cable ties, which dig into the flesh and hurt you more. They will throw buckets of water over you to keep you cold and in a state of shock, or they might throw you in a pond if there is one handy, but all the time they will be trying to condition you so that the interrogators will find you easier to deal with. They will also put a hood over your head to disorient you and they will keep you disoriented all the time you are in captivity.  Take note of what they hood you with. If it’s a sandbag, give thanks because they have a coarse weave.  If it’s a pillow case, you’re in for an extra tough ride because the weave is fine and it makes water-boarding much harder for you, because you will feel like you really are drowning. Try to keep the hood away from your face, and try to bite a hole in it, this will allow you to see your surroundings and may help you plan your escape.’ He stopped and let his words sink in before continuing.  

‘Always pretend to be more tired than you are; keep something in reserve for when the chance of escape presents itself. Always be very polite and call everyone “Sir”.  If you’re offered food or drink, take it; it may be your last.  When you’re being questioned, stick to the “Big Three”: Number, Rank and Name. When you’re more experienced, you will be told about how to make a controlled release of information, but for now, stick to the basics. Giving away anything more than the Big Three will see you on Platform Four with no second chance.

‘When you’re being questioned, the one consolation you’ll have is that at least you’re inside, in the warm. The interrogators will try a mixture of brutality and kindness.  They will try to assess what treatment you should have to get you to talk.  Don’t antagonise them unnecessarily and don’t try to be a hard man, it will only get you hurt.  Just say “Sorry, I cannot answer that question”.

‘If you see an opportunity to escape, take it, no matter what the risk. Don’t forget, your captors get tired too, and they will make mistakes that you may be able to capitalise on.  Even thinking about that will help keep up your morale.

The inevitability of what was to come caused Shepherd and most of the others to have a pretty sleepless night. The next day they had their final briefing.  Unusually, the trainees found themselves being briefed individually. Shepherd was briefed by The Bosun himself.  ‘You’re to run a Rat-Line,’ said The Bosun, ‘replicating being handed from one agent to another in occupied territory. Except for the agents running the Rat Line, all civilians are to be considered as hostile.  The RV points you’ll be given will be arranged so that you are always cross-graining the country - we always make the runners come down from the hills into the valleys.  Valleys usually have a road or track and a river running through them. For obvious reasons, these are known as “stop lines”. The hunter forces calculate the time for the runners to get to a stop line and move their resources accordingly. So knowledgeable runners will either try to move quicker than the enemy calculate they can, or alternatively, much slower, so they are either in front of or behind the hunter forces.’

Shepherd nodding, filing all the information away for future use. ‘In addition to the hunters, there will be prisoner-handling troops supported by helicopters,’ The Bosun continued. ‘And if you’re captured, you will be subject to interrogation by the JSIW - the Joint Services Interrogation Wing.’ He pushed a piece of paper across the desk to Shepherd, along with a pen. ‘Sign this,’ he said.  Shepherd realised that he had to sign a form saying he agreed to the interrogation. He couldn’t help but smile at the irony as he scrawled his signature.

The only information Shepherd was given were the co-ordinates of his first contact, a Dead Letter Box. Once he had reached the first DLB, he would find further information about the next stage of his escape route. No other information was provided; he was not even told the location of his drop-off point to begin the E & E; he would have to work that out on the ground for himself.

The only equipment he was given was a small scale map, printed on silk, similar to the ones issued to downed aircrew in the Second World War, a magnetized belt buckle stitched to his trousers to give him a rough north direction pointer, and a plastic bag to carry water when he was on the hill tops, allowing him to lie up away from water sources.  Shepherd was not unduly worried that he had not been given a proper compass, because what he had would be more than sufficient to help him find his way around.  He decided to wear the map next to his skin, inside his shirt, where it was unlikely to be found during anything other than a strip-search. There were no rations, no comms equipment, nothing but the map, belt buckle, plastic bag and the clothes he stood up in.

At the end of the briefing, The Bosun dropped a bombshell, ‘This is Noduff’, he said, meaning it was genuine information, separate from the briefing. ‘PIRA are known to be operating in the area.’

 Shepherd felt a chill at his words. It was only six months since an IRA bomb had ripped the heart out of Manchester and just two months since the Army HQ at Lisburn had been bombed.

‘We suspect that they’re hoping to pick up one of the senior guys from the Regiment who are running in the exercise,’ The Bosun said. ‘It’s been known for several years that the Provos would give their eye teeth to get hold of a senior SAS man.  Having a few of us running around the Welsh hills without our customary security systems in place will be a temptation that the Provos will find hard to resist.’ He grinned.  ‘They probably won’t be particularly interested in small fry such as yourself, but just the same, keep your eyes peeled and stay out of trouble’.

Finally, and vitally, The Bosun gave Shepherd the co-ordinates of an emergency RV, where he could go if everything went wrong, and even more importantly, the co-ordinates of the War RV. That would only be activated in a genuine emergency if the Regiment wanted everyone back in base ASAP.  The Bosun fixed him with his stare. ‘To divulge the location of either of these two RVs under interrogation could put other, more senior members of the regiment in real danger, and will inevitably lead to you being RTU’d. That’s all. Good luck.’

That night Shepherd was dropped off on the exercise start line. The van, driven by Brummie F, had already dropped off the others at ten minute intervals, several miles apart, and now only McKay and Shepherd were left. The driver had taken an erratic route into the mountains, with a series of seemingly random right and left turns and detours designed to throw off the calculations of any of them who were trying to keep track of their location. Shepherd hadn’t even bothered to try and track the twists and turns; once out of the van, he’d orient himself soon enough. Now, having driven a few more miles since the last drop, Brummie F once more pulled into the side of the twisting, unlit C road he was following. He glanced over his shoulder at Shepherd and said ‘You’re on, jump to it.’

Shepherd rested his hand on McKay’s shoulder for a moment. ‘Good luck, mate, see you on the other side,’ he said.

‘Not if I see you first,’ laughed McKay.

Shepherd jumped down from the van and it roared off. He watched the glow of its headlights fade until he was left alone in the gathering darkness.  There was still a glow in the western sky from the setting sun and that gave him a direction. He gave his eyes another five minutes to become accustomed to the gloom and then moved off, away from the road, climbing the flanks of the mountain that loomed above him.

He was fully confident as he set off. He had his silk map, next to his skin, and the magnetised belt buckle on his trousers, so he had everything he needed. He knew that at some point, at a time of their choosing, he was going to be roughed up and interrogated, but though he obviously wasn’t looking forward to that, it didn’t frighten him. He knew that he could get through it because the prize - admission to the ranks of the SAS - was too great for anything to stop him now.

It was now late autumn, shading into winter, and high in the Welsh mountains where he was heading, he knew he’d face torrential rain, cold winds, night frosts, and long, dark, twelve-hour nights. There were scores of abandoned farms, barns and sheep-folds in the hills, but the refuge they offered was illusory; Shepherd knew he couldn’t use them because the hunter force would regularly check them and if he was anywhere near them, he would be caught.

However, he also knew that there were massive swathes of bracken all over the hills, dying back to its autumnal brown, which would provide cover and some protection from the elements. There were also a few patches of conifer woodland that had been planted in the 1970s for tax reasons. Those trees were now mature but the timber that would once have gone to make pit props for the Welsh collieries, was no longer needed. After the pit closures of the Thatcher era, only one deep mine now remained in South Wales. As a result, many of the woods were now unkempt, littered with fallen trees and dead-fall branches that made progress through them difficult but provided good cover.