Ghost Force: The Secret History of the SAS by Connor Ken

Author:Connor, Ken [Connor, Ken]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, Non-Fiction, SAS, Special & Elite Forces, War & Military
ISBN: 9780304363674
Google: O-lGHAAACAAJ
Publisher: Orion Publishing Group, Limited
Published: 2002-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

10 — Terrorism 1968-98

The formation of an SAS counter-terrorism team was a closely guarded secret, but as news slowly began to filter through the other security services, anyone who felt they had a contribution to make in the fight against terrorism rang and offered their help.

Among the calls was one from the Hard Dog Section of the Metropolitan Police who felt that their dogs would be able to assist in siege situations. They laid on a demonstration at Biggin Hill in Kent to prove the point.

When we arrived at the airfield we saw a row of small police vans parked close to the aircraft. My colleague Moon, a bit of a joker, stuck his face against the window of each van. There was a frenzy of ferocious barking. The vans were bouncing so hard on their springs as the dogs tried to get at Moon that they were almost lifting clear of the ground.

When its handler went to get one of the Alsatians, it was immediately clear that he was as frightened of the dog as we were. It was still barking furiously and began trying to bite the handler.

‘Christ,’ Moon said. ‘That’s an alligator-cross.’

I could see what he meant, the dog’s jaws were about half as long as its body.

‘Let’s call it Singer,’ Moon said. ‘If it gets hold of you, it’ll have you in stitches.’

The other dogs were equally wild and the relationship with their handlers was pure mutual hatred. There was no question of them responding to verbal commands; the only way the police could control them was by laying into them with batons to try and make them more frightened of the handlers than the handlers were of the dogs.

The task for the chosen police Alsatian was to clear an aircraft that had been hijacked by a man with a pistol. The aircraft was the fuselage of an old RAF transport plane, precariously propped on forty-gallon oil drums. The invited audience of civil servants, staff officers, police and SAS men clambered aboard and sat down on rows of canvas seats as if we were about to watch an in-flight movie.

Moon took one look at the assembled multitude and muttered, ‘Let’s get right to the back and hang on to the side of the plane, because if anyone moves suddenly, it’s going to topple over; and when one of those dogs is let loose, everyone is going to be moving suddenly.’

We both took a firm grip on the fuselage at the rear of the plane. When everyone was in position, the gunman entered and stood at the front of the aircraft with a pistol. He fired a couple of blank shots and then the Alsatian came hurtling through the door.

It proceeded to ignore the man with the pistol but bit everyone else it could reach. In the panic to get away from the dog there was a stampede for the front of the aircraft, which duly toppled on to its nose. After a pregnant pause, the Alsatian slid down the floor as if in slow motion, and disappeared into the pile of terrified dignitaries.

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