The Forgotten Land Read Free Page B

infantry tactics as well
as to push himself even further with his physical and mental fitness. At the
end of the year he was the fittest he had ever been and had a good grasp of the
infantry, which gave him an idea of what he could expect in the SASR if he were
to get in.
    Early
the next year he applied for the Cadre Course, the selection course for the
Special Air Service held in Perth twice a year. It was 21-days long and it was
not uncommon for most participants to lose at least ten kilograms during those
three weeks.
    The
exercises were intensive and pushed the would-be troopers to their limits and
beyond. The last day consisted of a twenty-three hour force march, with one
hour’s rest at the halfway point. At the end of the force march, with usually
half the people left who had started out, a truck was waiting to drive them
back to base. As the exhausted soldiers approached, the driver started the
vehicle and drove off into the distance, disappearing around a corner. It was
the last test of mental strength. Often two or three people fell out in
desperation. Those with the strength to continue, hung their heads and kept
walking, eventually coming to a bend in the road where they could see the truck
about five hundred metres away. This time it did not drive off and the
survivors of the course clambered into the back, exhausted, filled with pain,
hungry and tired, but happy that they had got through. Out of the eighty-seven
that had applied for the course with Matt, only eight made the drive back to
base. Matt had made it and although he had only been in the SAS two years, he
was one of the best medics and one of the top ten sharp shooters the Special
Air Service Regiment had to offer.
    Sergeant
Steve Golburn was the most senior soldier in the room. He was the team commander
and was looked upon almost like a father by the other soldiers. He had been
commander every occasion this small group had worked together. He had joined
the infantry as a boy soldier of sixteen with the specific intention of one day
joining the ranks of the SASR. Steve had been a bit of a lady’s man when he had
been younger, but then he had met Judy. Having seen action in Cambodia,
Somalia, Rwanda, East Timor, Papua New Guinea, Bosnia, the Gulf and more
recently Afghanistan, he was an incredibly experienced soldier and an obvious
asset to the Special Air Service Regiment. With fourteen years in the SASR and
five years in the infantry before that, he was no stranger to being on call
24/7.
    “Well,
well, look what the fuck’n cat dragged in,” Scott said, chuckling. “Good to see
ya mate.”
    “Good
to be here,” replied Steve. “So what’s the go?”
    “Dunno
yet,” Will said. “Ben just got a call as he was about to fill us in.”
    Corporal
Ben Miller was one of the intelligence soldiers, or “spooks” as they were often
called. If they needed maps, satellite images or weather reports he was the man
to see.
    “How’s
the missus and kids going?” Dave Hill’s deep voice broke the short silence.
    “Yeah,
they’re going really well, mate. Although they were a bit cut when Miller phoned
me and told me to get stage side.”
    “With
you gone it’ll give her more time to get to know her new boyfriend,” Scott
laughed. No one else thought it was funny. “Shut up Scotty,” said Dave.
    “Just
trying to lighten the fuck’n mood. Feels like some prick’s just died,” said
Scott taking out a packet of cigarettes.
    “Not
in here mate,” Will said. “The room’s a bit small to be filling it with
shit-flavoured smoke.”
    “If
you want to smoke go outside mate,” Steve said, taking a seat.
    Scott
sighed. “All right, all right, point taken.” He put the cigarettes back in his
pocket.
    “I’d
assume with all the coverage Iraq’s been gett’n, we might be heading for the
Iraqi desert,” Matt said looking at the members of the group.
    “I
hope so,” said Dave. He had not yet passed up an opportunity to undergo desert
work.