The Circuit Read Free

been thinking like a civilian that morning, I would have appreciated just how weak my position was. But I was thinking and acting as if I was still in the Regiment. Rather than keep my big mouth shut and walk away with only my pride wounded, I mouthed off to a well-supported, well-armed soldier and ended up with an M16 digging into my temple.
    My head was still sandwiched between the APC and the barrel of the Russian’s M16. I scanned the area as best I could and fixed on a block of apartments three storeys high. I was looking for signs of life, anyone who might see what was happening. I wanted a witness, someone to tell the tale because I was convinced the Russian would shoot me in the head.
    ‘Who are you!’ the lead Russian demanded again.
    ‘I’m a field producer for CNN.’
    ‘No you’re not,’ he screamed. ‘You’re a spy.’
    ‘If I was a spy working in Ramallah wouldn’t that put me on your side?’ I argued.
    The Russian, in a moment of clarity, considered my answer. ‘Show us some ID!’
    I asked them if I could get my ID out of my back pocket – I didn’t want to provoke them with unannounced movements. I reached into my pocket and handed the lead Russian my press card. In the left corner was my picture. In the right, the official seal of the Israeli Press Office.
    The Russian looked over the card, smiled smugly and threw it in the mud.
    At that moment, I was certain he was destroying my credentials so he could claim – after he killed me – that he hadn’t realized I was a member of the media. I looked at my muddied press card like a drowning man watching a life-raft drift out of sight. It seemed like an eternity.
    ‘Pick it up!’ the Russian ordered.
    I wasn’t sure of his endgame but I did as instructed. As I scooped up the card the Russian slammed the heel of his boot down on my hand. I felt the bones in my fingers snap.
    ‘Fucking hell,’ I muttered through clenched teeth.
    ‘If we see you on the streets of Ramallah tomorrow, you’re a dead man,’ he said. ‘Now fuck off.’ The lead Russian nodded at his mate to withdraw his weapon. I took the cue to get the hell out of there.
    My hand throbbing, I walked away thinking just how stupid and arrogant I’d been. I thought my twenty-three years of military experience had fully prepared me to negotiate a hostile environment as a security adviser. I was wrong. By failing to realize the crucial differences between operating as a civilian and operating in the Regiment, I’d unnecessarily compromised my safety and, in doing so, failed to serve my clients to the best of my ability. I was lucky to have got away with only two broken fingers.

CHAPTER 2
    I never gave much thought to politics when I was in the Regiment. I was a soldier, not a politician. As far as I was concerned there were two kinds of characters in the world: goodies and baddies.
    When I joined The Circuit politics still weren’t at the forefront of my mind. I read the newspapers regularly ( Daily Telegraph and The Times ) and watched news on television to keep myself informed. When the Israelis launched Operation Defensive Shield, I thought I had a pretty good grasp of the Arab–Israeli conflict: the Israelis were the good guys and the Palestinians were a bunch of terrorists led by the filthiest terrorist of them all, Yasir Arafat.
    As a soldier, I’d come to admire the Israelis. When I was a young lad in the Regiment, IDF Special Forces conducted the legendary Entebbe raid in July 1976 to free Israeli hostages held by Palestinian terrorists on an Air France flight at Entebbe airport in Uganda. At the time the Ugandan leader Idi Amin was backing the terrorists, so the Israelis had to conduct the raid in utter secrecy. The Jewish commandos carried out their operation with all the professionalism and guile of any first world force, freeing all one hundred hostages and losing only one of their own.
    The Entebbe raid was a source of inspiration for me throughout my military