Life on a Thread by Jamie Hull

Author:Jamie Hull [Hull, Jamie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473592643
Publisher: Ebury Publishing

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‘What manner of men are they that the wear the maroon beret? They are firstly all volunteers and are toughened by physical training. As a result they have infectious optimism and that offensive eagerness which comes from well-being … They have the highest standards in all things … They are, in fact, men apart – every man an emperor.’

So wrote Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery, 1st Viscount Montgomery of Alamein about the Parachute Regiment and it was to this elite military unit that, in 2003, I turned my focus at the end of my third and penultimate year at university, all other major OTC challenges exhausted for the time being. I knew all about the Paras. Who didn’t? It was probably the one military outfit any man in a British street could name. The Royal Marines have unique qualities of their own but if Britain finds itself in a serious fight, it will be the Paras to whom they turn to act as the spearhead.

I had been reading up on them and I wanted a piece of their action, I wanted to accept their challenge – the fabled ‘P’ Company (Pegasus Company) selection course, which was open to all arms of the military, including the OTC. Outside Special Forces, ‘P’ Company is the hardest of all selection courses alongside the Royal Marines’ Commando Training Programme. And some argue it’s harder than Special Forces Selection because it lasts for three continuous, gruelling weeks. It is not broken down into parts. Besides, half the SAS were drawn from the Paras.

Back from Norway, the Cambridge University OTC quickly dominated my life once again, a little to the detriment of my academic studies, it must be admitted. I was just about on top of my studies, but I was under no illusions, from the marks I was getting for my course work, that I was heading for any better than an average-to-good grading in my finals. I didn’t mind. As far as I was concerned, and so long as I didn’t get a third, my achievements and experiences gained through the OTC, when added to my academic qualifications, were going to give me the notional equivalent of a first-class honours degree. If the idea of a university was for the graduate to emerge from it a better person, to build some character, to open up a range of life choices and career opportunities, then I was heading for a distinction.

I signed up for the pre-Parachute selection, meaning I wouldn’t receive my ‘wings’ until I completed the jump element of the course at a later date. But jumping out of an aircraft was a one-off, a case of overcoming deep-seated fears. That held no terrors for me. But the main part of the course, held at Catterick Garrison in North Yorkshire, is a remorseless ordeal of pain. Completing a Cambrian Patrol was a triumph, a badge of honour for life, but from what I had heard, it was a challenge dwarfed in scale and intensity by

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