“When I was undergoing SAS continuation training, it was
drummed in to all of us that the role of a special-forces operator is twofold.
Sometimes we would be sent in to gather information: this meant putting in an
observation post, lying low, watching and waiting. When that was the case we’d
need to go in light – armed, of course, but only with the precision tools we
needed for the job. Our role was to stay invisible.
“To do our job with the minimum of fuss and without
anybody knowing we were there. If we were compromised, our tactic was to ‘shoot
and scoot’ – to engage the enemy if necessary then exfiltrate as quickly and
stealthily as possible.
“Sometimes, though, we’d be looking for a fight. If our
orders were to take out personnel or installations, our tactics would need to
be altered accordingly. Stealth would still be the order of the day at the
beginning of the operation. Often we’d be setting up an ambush, so it would
clearly be essential that we worked silently and without being seen. If it was
possible to take out any of the enemy clinically, with suppressed weapons and
without alerting anyone to our presence, we’d do that. One less person to worry
about later on.
“At some point, though, we knew things would go noisy.
When that happened, the tactics changed. Stealth was no longer our best friend;
violence was. We’d use all the weaponry at our disposal to eliminate the enemy
completely, or to destroy their installations. If things went according to
plan, the operation would go noisy at a time and place of our choosing. Good
for us. Bad for the enemy.
“Tier 1 operators need to be equally skilful with the
scalpel and the hammer. They need to be the Grey Man, able to merge into the
background – which is why a lot of the operators working in Afghanistan wear
beards, so they don’t stand out when they’re among the locals in-country. But
when the situation requires it, these men must be able to bring all the most
brutal forces of war to bear in order to overcome the enemy and achieve their
objectives…”
The battle field may be a long way from the gym floor,
but the lesson we can all learn as professionals from Chris, aside from
sheer courage and perseverance, is adaptability. As the saying goes, all
failure is failure to adapt.
You can hear more of Chris’ extraordinary story at the
FIA Flame Conference on 27th June, Sheffield. Places are going fast
so book
now.
Follow Flame Conference on Twitter @FIA_Flame,
#tametheflame
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