Posted on 16.11.09
There's been a lot of publicity recently about the anniversary of the Berlin Wall coming down. When I was a soldier I served in West Berlin, which was then an island surrounded by the communists. Part of my work was to patrol the wall on the ground and in the air. We also went in to East Berlin through checkpoint Charlie so we could gauge Russian and East German troop movements. We attended their May Day parades to try and sneak photographs of their equipment and on one occasion we found a Scud missile carrier parked in a side street waiting to join the column of other ballistic missile carriers. The driver had jumped down to relieve himself so one of our team poked his camera into the cab and photographed all the instrumentation. Those pictures went back to the UK intelligence services – and probably ended up in a file somewhere at the bottom of a dusty cupboard.
One day we discovered a secret prison where an English girl was being held. She had become involved with an East German boy who was a political activist. I have no idea what the outcome of that discovery was, but we were chased by the Stasi through the streets of East Berlin. The American forces drove round in big six cylinder car called a Ford Galaxy, which was absolute luxury. We had small Austin 1100s which was about the size of a toy car, and with four of us squeezed in for hours on end -- because you weren't allowed to get out of the car on these missions -- it did become a bit cramped. (And nothing’s changed by the way – British troops’ equipment was seldom up to scratch and wherever possible we always bought with our own money (or borrowed!) American equipment. The one thing we couldn't get our hands on was a six cylinder Ford Galaxy!)
So, we were at a slight disadvantage to our American cousins and the Stasi were always giving chase whenever we were spotted – which, less face it, wasn’t difficult. The only thing on our side was that their equipment and radios were worse than ours, so it took them some time to catch up with us. The Stasi were identifiable by the white Trabants they drove and their intention was usually to crash into us, particularly to hit the driver's side of the car and injure the driver. That accident would give them good reason to hold us as long as it was politically viable.
The prison was located down a narrow cobbled street. I was driving that day and the car was already acting up. Every time I selected reverse, the gear stick would jump out, so I had to keep a firm grip on it and reverse as best I could. I remember that we drove down the teeth-rattling cobbled street to be suddenly faced with armed East German guards. It was a dead end. The intelligence officer with us shouted an order to get out of there as quickly as possible. He didn't need to shout - the guards were already levelling their weapons as I was trying to get the car into reverse. I put my foot down, held the car in gear, and roared backwards up the street, only to see the Stasi fast approaching in their white cars. It was like something out of a Hollywood movie. I just managed to beat them to a side street, swung the car round and raced off through the suburbs of East Berlin. We had to get back to Checkpoint Charlie before they caught up with us. Happily, we got away with it.
It was always a pleasure to get back to the West. And, although it was against all the rules, we sometimes sneaked out of the cars when on night missions and chatted to East Berliners in their bars. Those I spoke to seemed to like living in the East and had no desire to be brought into a democracy. But there was a common consensus – they hated the Soviets (as they were then known). Which is why, perhaps, Russian soldiers always had to go about in pairs during their off-duty hours.
There was a fairly common trick that the Stasi would play. They’d try and get a refugee on board an Allied car. There were strict standing orders that you never opened the door for anybody, and on a few occasions we had people begging us to smuggle them out of the East and into the West. At times it was heartbreaking because it was easy to believe that they were desperate – and on ground patrol around the wall there was plenty of evidence of young people having been shot to death in their attempted escape. We just couldn't risk taking anybody into the car with us – even if there had been any space! I know the Americans once fell for this trap. The East German troops and Stasi surrounded the car, threw blankets over it making it pitch black inside. I think they were trapped like that for three or four days. It was a political coup for the East Germans, and a sharp lesson to remember. Who wanted to be cooped up in an Austin 1100 with three other sweaty Paras?
But it was more serious than it sounds. The Russians and East Germans certainly played for keeps as, to the best of my knowledge, there was another incident when an American was shot.
On one occasion we were nosing around close to the Polish border when we came upon a military artillery convoy. They had come out of his huge underground bunker, so once again we had stumbled on a secret military installation. In a desperate attempt to stop us one of the motorcycle outriders drove straight at the car, smashed into us and went over the roof. We didn't wait to see if he got up, but cranked that little 1100 cc engine to its full revs and got out of there as fast as we could.
I think we also did our bit for the environment – even back then – although the amount of ammunition we used probably left enough lead in the ground to poison a whole generation. When it was my turn to be Air Observer on reconnaissance with the Army Air Corps 7 Flight, we would not only report troop movements, but also the shipping which was mostly in the form of huge barges plying their trade. If we saw them discharge their oil tanks into the river we could see the oil slick for miles so we could radio down and have the West Germans stop the ship. Not so much a military observation, more of an eco-patrol.
Being the Cold War (and Berlin gets really cold) there would occasionally be a general alert to test the Allied response to a Russian attack. Our barracks backed onto the Berlin Wall and the death strip, a mined area to stop anybody trying to reach us from that side. The whole brigade would respond to these alerts and our job was to get to the main point where we thought the Russians would breakthrough. Of course the one thing we needed -- and I'm often reminded of this when I see war movies when a submarine captain has to open his secret sealed orders -- was to know where we were supposed to go at any given emergency. I was duty officer one night in battalion headquarters and the alarm went off at about 2 a.m. It was up to me to open the safe and take out the Top-Secret orders for the commanding officer. It was like sitting a test – you know the answer but you just can’t remember …
It was one of those horrible moments when your mind goes blank and I hadn’t a clue what the combination was. I remember this surge of panic swirling through my brain as my hand spun the dial hoping there was an angel on my shoulder who would stop at the right click -- left and right -- but nothing happened. There I was, about to hand success to a Russian invasion of West Berlin. Thankfully, what felt like minutes were only seconds and I remembered the combination. Western democracy was saved.
Sometimes you've just got to get your brain in gear.
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Posted on 11.11.09
Writers tell stories about their heroes undertaking daring adventures, facing incredible danger that they always manage to survive. In life there are teenagers, not much older than these heroes, or the readers that enjoy the stories, who face incredible danger every day as they fight a war.
So, on this Day of Days, it’s something we should always remember.
And never forget.
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Posted on 28.09.09
I feel as though I've been ergonomically re-designed.
This is why I haven’t done much writing or blogging these past few months. When Puffin published Max Gordon’s first adventure, The Devil’s Breath, three years ago, I had a great many copies to sign. The trouble was I had discovered a problem using my right arm. Over the years I’d fallen off too many horses and had too many hard parachute landings which had seemingly messed up bits of the anatomy.
So I taught myself to write, and sign books of course, with my left hand. But the urgency to start and finish the second book Ice Claw really began to take its toll on the mechanics of the recalcitrant arm. By the time Blood Sun was published this year my wife had to drive me to the Hay-on-Wye festival for the special book launch. Puffin and I had planned a survival quiz for the audience, as we do with every Max Gordon adventure. I was fairly zonked on pain killers, not that anyone noticed – perhaps they thought my eyes always looked like that – anyway we had a great day and a lot of fun.
With the third book safely delivered it was time to fix the problem. The surgeon discovered that a piece of bone in the shoulder was sawing the tendons like frayed rope. I know they filmed the operation and took photos (I wonder if I get an appearance fee?) but they’re not going to be on general release at a cinema anywhere near you soon.
They took so long using whatever was in their tool box that they could have listened to The Devil’s Breath audio tape. I think two of the surgeons went on their summer holidays and came back again. At least that’s how it felt when I finally regained consciousness.
So, strapped up and medicated with mind-altering drugs – I had some insane images swirling out of the darkness but thankfully it was easy to hide beneath the bedclothes – I was shipped home.
And that’s how it’s been for the past couple of months. The arm sling has now been slung and I have a physiotherapist who gives no quarter (I’m sure she was on the Parachute Regiment’s P Company selection course!) Good progress is being made and I’ve stopped walking into doorframes and slamming the shoulder as I crab along.
I’m writing again – tapping the keys with my left index finger – a screenplay, which I’ll tell you about at another time. There’s a deadline, but after that I can’t wait to start writing all the books I have in mind. It’s a list as long as my arm. The good one that is.
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Posted on 01.08.09
Don’t tell me the kids of today can’t hack it. Tom Daley, 15 years-old from Plymouth, is the new World and European 10m platform diving champion. His recent victory in Rome confirms him as one of Britain's hopes for a gold medal in the 2012 Olympics in London.
Crowds gathered on the streets to welcome him home as he drove through Plymouth in an open-top bus. This boy is seriously cool. You can see more on bbc.co.uk/devon.
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Posted on 16.07.09
When I lived in Sydney many years ago I often went up into the Blue Mountains, 50 miles west of the city, to hike and explore this magnificent, though potentially dangerous area. Having lived in Africa I thought I knew a little about being in the wilderness but each area is unique and the Blue Mountains are no exception. It was great fun and we weren't doing any serious exploring but when you took a wrong turn off the track it quickly became quite scary. And what you thought was a designated pathway could easily be an animal track. I remember how rapidly the weather changed, the freezing cold fog smothering us, hiding paths and obscuring cliff tops and deadly gorges. So, I never ventured further than my limited skills could take me. I think it was more to do with fear them being prudent. It would be a few years later for the British Army to give me the experience and confidence to look after myself in the wilderness.
That Jamie Neale survived his ill-advised adventure was down to luck despite the determined efforts of the rescue teams. Good to have a bit of an adventure, and it's easy to pour scorn on him, but I guess many of us have done something silly like this at some stage of our lives. Even walking in the wild areas of Britain the weather can deteriorate and kill you. Jamie left behind the most vital piece of equipment for anyone embarking into unknown territory - common sense. Locals would certainly have advised him on the dangers of the area and had he left sufficient information at his start point, his rescuers would have found him quickly. With insufficient skills to cross the terrain he should have stayed where he was. The alarm had been raised and he would have been found.
The most vital element for survival is water. I heard an interview on the radio about how Jamie could have drunk his own urine. I was taught that was the biggest no-no in the book. Once he started to dehydrate, his urine would have turned a darker colour, the toxins would have been drawn from his body and that’s the quickest way to even more trouble. Ideally he would have needed five litres of water a day without using too much energy. Being in the mountains he could have gathered water through precipitation. I always carried a bin bag inside my backpack, if for no other reason than to keep my kit dry in extreme circumstances, but even the humble bin bag can be used to gather moisture, whether you are in arid conditions or, as in Jamie’s case, fog and cloud. My guess is Jamie didn't even carry the simplest pieces of kit to get him through, so it was doubtful whether something like a modestly-priced, pocket water filter device was on his non-existent survival list.
But survive he did. He was in an area criss-crossed with streams and even if he had no food for twelve days – a severe way of dieting perhaps – he wouldn’t have died of starvation. It’s reported he ate grass and berries. I’m surprised he managed. It’s easy to poison yourself – better to go without if you’re unsure.
It's freezing cold in the Blue Mountains at this time of year because it’s the middle of winter in the southern hemisphere. If he had basic bushcraft skills he would have had the means of making a fire, and to break or cut branches for shelter and bedding. I'm not so sure I would have used a log to sleep against as he did, because that's where you'll find snakes curled up, and Australia has some nasty ones. But, he must have done something right. It’s reported that when he was younger he participated in the Duke of Edinburgh Award scheme and that he was used to being outdoors in all kinds of weather – maybe he’s a hardy soul. Good for him – up to a point – but he didn’t even carry a compass. Did he need one? Not if he knew how to use his watch and there was a glimmer of sunlight. In the southern hemisphere point the 12 towards the sun and the mid point between the 12 and the hour hand is the north-south line. Useless information of course if you have a digital watch, or like many people these days use your mobile phones to tell the time. Not that he had his mobile phone with him!
And now the press has been drawn to his escapade. It’s reported he has been offered £50 000 for his story. The rescue operation cost the Australian taxpayer $A100 000, and members of the rescue team were injured in their attempt to find him. I wonder how grateful he is going to be for their efforts, and the costs involved for such an ill-conceived adventure.
I suppose one can't help but feel some sympathy for what must have been his cringing embarrassment as, lying in a hospital bed in full view of the world's media, his father castigated him.
You survived, Jamie – but I doubt you’ll ever live this down.
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Posted on 07.06.09
Blood Sun, Max Gordon’s third adventure, is officially launched.
Although it was available during my Hay-on-Wye tour it’s now out there in the bookshops. The UK publishes first and then the USA and other counties will follow in their own time.
I hope Blood Sun, like the others, is a real page-turner and that it goes some way to completing Max Gordon’s search for the truth about his mother’s death in the Central American rainforest.
It’s a survival story that would test the best of them – and I don’t think I’ve ever given Max such a deadly adversary. Pursued by a tough-as-steel assassin Max has to reach the Mayan jungle, avoiding drug runners, shoot-to-kill US Coastguard helicopter gunships and every deadly creature that lies in wait.
It’s probably the most explosive ending I’ve written – so I hope you’ll enjoy it.
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