Shoot to Kill: From 2 Para to the SAS

by Michael Asher

The weaker and stronger elements of the unit had melted and fused together to create something stronger than the sum of its parts. But here there was only yourself and your untrustworthy body, which seemed to be in the continual process of coming apart at the seams: burning, blistered feet gave way to aching shoulders and back, which were in turn overwhelmed by chafed thighs, freezing fingers and gasping, straining heart and lungs. Your body told you to stop, to lay down, to remove the dead weight on your back, but you fought the revolt down, tottered across the raging cold torrent, jiggered yourself on hands and knees up the bank, slithered across loose screes, ploughed on, clawing hand over hand up the slope through the lashing tongue of the rain and the freezing clutch of the wind, on and on until the RV was in sight, then on and on again to the one after that.

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