Wilco- Lone Wolf - Book 3 by Geoff Wolak

Author:Geoff Wolak [Wolak, Geoff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-08T05:00:00+00:00

At 6am everyone was ready, the SBS lads a little late, and we started the run as the sun offered us a brilliant morning, two RAF PTIs keenly leading the way, and at a brisk pace.

One complete lap of the airfield and we were sweating, that lap being more than five miles, RAF Tornados taking off on some training sortie. We had glimpsed the ocean at several points, a welcoming sight on the horizon, but also a distraction; we all wanted a cool swim.

After a quick wash we jogged as a group, webbing on, and to scrub land, jeeps and rations waiting, and we sat in the dirt and cooked our rations in small groups. I sat chatting to Mouri about the New Zealand SAS and their training stints with the Australians. Seems their selection was based on the British SAS standard, the mountains in the South Island very similar to Wales, the sheep very familiar, the houses and the accents the same. Brecon was home from home for him.

The 2 Squadron lads had missed us, then had their own run without seeing us, and had breakfast in the canteen after a shower. They joined us at 9am, kit on, and we took coaches to the base’s long range, the range facing south towards the ocean.

A competition was organised, AKMs to be used, each man given twenty rounds, the scores tallied and averaged out. We won easily enough, the RAF Regiment second, the SBS just a point under them – much banter from our SBS lads towards their former colleagues. I moved everyone forwards, and groups of four would practise advancing and firing, withdrawing and firing, troop sergeants behind and shouting.

Rations were again cooked, just off the range and on scrub land, and after lunch I gave a lecture on trauma first aid as they sat in the shade of the range roof, and I had brought many tampons and yellow elastic tourniquets, all handed out and shown where they should be stored.

In groups they would simulate a gunshot wound, and I spent time with the 2 Squadron lads, shouting a bit, making sure they had it right. We went through fluid replacement in the field, compound factures, dislocations, dehydration and dysentery, personal hygiene, many questions fired at them.

Towards sun down we organised another run, this time with the 2 Squadron lads in tow, once around the airfield. An hour after evening meal a speed march in full kit was held, ten miles, most everyone sweating and quite spent – Mouri always cheerful, but the lads were allowed to sleep after 10pm.

In the morning we boarded coaches with our full kit, extra kit in boxes and the local RAF Regiment helping out, some formerly from 37 Squadron and keen to chat to me, a long coach ride to the west, poor roads, and up into the hills. I had men waiting, organised in secret, as well as a great many sandbags and small shovels, dried old branches and string.

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