I first became aware of the Special Air Service (SAS) Regiment when I was serving with 10 Airfield Construction Squadron Royal Engineers during the emergency in Aden in 1967 – my first operational tour of duty. There were all sorts of wild rumours flying around about what the regiment was up to, including undercover work, disguising themselves as locals, and ambushing the mad machine-gunners and grenade-throwing terrorists. It seemed far more exciting than being a spanner monkey and I was intrigued. Little did I know, as I went about my work repairing bulldozers that in less than five years I would be part of this elite organization and facing hundreds of communist shock troops re-supplied from this very area, namely, the port of Aden.
Then came the bad news that the British Army would be carrying out a tactical withdrawal from Aden, handing over all the camps, airfields and workshops to the communist regime. Towards the end of November 1967 the withdrawal began, and as 10 Squadron boarded the Hercules C-130 transport plane to fly us up to RAF Sharjah near Dubai, I could not shake off the feeling we were surrendering.
Over the next ten months I worked all round the area helping to build roads and helipads and it was during this period I had my first contact with ‘The Regiment’. Every few weeks a group of SAS guys would appear in the cookhouse on camp and they were different from any soldiers I had seen before in the British Army. With their long hair, beards, different clothing and lack of badges of rank or insignia they looked like a gang of mercenaries. They also had an air of confidence about them, as if they owned the place. This was the first time I had seen SAS guys up close and they were impressive.
On camp the Royal Engineers had their own drinking club and it wasn’t long before the SAS guys found out the club bar stayed open after the N.A.F.F.I. had closed. One late Saturday night a handful of the guys turned up at the club, took over the bar, and ordered drinks all round. The conversation flowed and I found out they were from ‘Landrover troop’, B squadron, and that’s about all the information they parted with. They were more interested to find out if any of us wanted to come on selection and gave out details how to apply. It was only late into the night after we started to discuss what we regarded as the Aden fiasco that I became hooked on the idea of joining the Regiment.
The guys talked in general terms about the communist take over of the area, and hinted that ‘something’ was going to be done about it, but no place, names or timings were mentioned. It was all secret and very vague, but in the next couple of years, it all suddenly made sense. This was a chance to get my own back after that humiliating withdrawal. I made the decision there and then that I would put in for selection.
I immediately lodged my application form and spent the next couple of months training intensely. Success! I passed the initial three weeks’ physical selection phase over the Brecon Beacons and then spent five more months on continuation training. This training included weapons and explosives training, first aid, resistance to interrogation training, and one month in the Far East on jungle training.
Out of the original 135 runners less than 15 of us presented ourselves at the Colonel’s office to receive the famous beret and wings. I had cracked the greatest physical challenge of my life. I was now badged and, incredibly, I was posted to the very same 8 Troop, B Squadron.
I was pitched straight into squadron life and briefed on an operation that was going to take place in a few months to retake Dhofar, a province in southern Oman, from communist insurgents. My first SAS operation, and I was going to get a crack at the regime that humiliated the British Army back in 1967. Little did I know it would it would all end up with me fighting in the last conclusive battle against communism before the Berlin Wall came down.
The battle of Mirbat in July 1972 was a well-planned, determined attack by hundreds of communist shock troops against nine SAS soldiers – a modern-day Rorke’s Drift that became famous within military circles but was a relatively unknown event in the eyes of the public.
Eight years later the SAS and myself would be pitched into an undeclared war on terrorism within the UK itself and within the full glare of the world’s media. We had been training intensely for such an event so there was a general feeling of relief when the code that flashed on our personal alerters on the morning of 30 April 1980 was not a drill, it was for the real thing – a live operation. The Iranian Embassy in London had been taken over by terrorists claiming to be from the Front for the Liberation of Arabistan. B Squadron 22 SAS had just taken over the Special Projects (SP) Team from the previous squadron and we were raring to go. The Metropolitan Police took over the day-to-day running of the siege, declaring that a ‘softly softly’ approach would be maintained. However, when the terrorists’ self-control finally disintegrated and the siege spiralled into violence we were called into action.
The following book reveals the careful planning that went into the SAS assault, the hours spent poring over building plans and the different assault options that were considered. It also gives a detailed blow-by-blow account from the abseiler’s descent to the gathering of the freed hostages on the embassy lawn. Many books have been published detailing the events of 5 May 1980 but this volume corrects the multitude of errors that appear in most of these accounts, revealing the truth of exactly how we achieved what many consider the impossible.
For my part, I felt immense personal satisfaction and pride at being involved in such a successful military operation, undoubtedly one of the most significant actions of my entire military career. The day would live forever in regimental history. The victory had been gained, not only through faultless teamwork and infinite patience, but also through immense physical courage and flexibility in the face of overwhelming odds.