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left putting me through private school, an advantage he had never had. He was furious when I signed on for the army. He said he had hoped I would go to university. I explained that I wanted to live life, not read about it. There was another row when I applied to join the SAS. The least I could do, he thought, was get a commission and become an officer. He said it was unfair on our mother to have both her sons at risk.
    Andy arrived with Guy, the Rupert. They had come to give us our briefing. We locked the door and settled down on the bunks to hear what they had to say. Guy was typical of the Ruperts we got a big, tall rugby player who'd been promoted up to captain from lieutenant on joining the Regiment. Ruperts normally serve two-year hitches and then go back to their units, taking their new skills, if any, back with them.
    Guy started off. "Shall I give the orders?"
    "No," Andy told him shortly. "I'm in charge. You're just a spare gun."
    Guy's jaw dropped. It's a big culture shock for young officers to come into the SAS and find they are a lot less important than an experienced
    NCO.
    Before Guy could speak Andy went on: "You sit there by Mark. The two of you should have plenty to talk about." This was supposed to remind the others I had been to private school. I shifted up to make room on the bunk for him. Doug squeezed in on the other side. Opposite us were Tom and Taffy, with Andy on the outside nearest the door.
    "It's an OP job," Andy said. An OP was an observation post, holing up somewhere, watching and reporting back. It was a task we practised often.
    "Where?" Taffy asked.
    "The Argentine mainland, Tierra del Fuego," Andy answered.
    So the rumours were true. This meant a big increase in the scope of the fighting. Until now the hostilities were supposedly limited to a 200-mile exclusion zone around the islands.
    "The Argy air force is sinking our ships faster than we can replace them," Andy went on, 'and the Navy is shit worried." He looked at the three of us who'd been on the Northland. We didn't need reminding what it was like to be bombed. "Our target is the big airbase at Rio Grande. We infiltrate by helicopter under cover of darkness, set up an OP, and observe and report enemy aircraft movements: time out, course and direction, numbers and weapon loads. The usual kind of thing. Fleet also wants to know how many make it back so they can estimate the attrition rate of the de fences
    "How long do we stay?" Taffy wanted to know. Taff always got nervous before a mission.
    "Until the war ends, stupid," Tom retorted in his thick accent. Tom wasn't worried one bit by the prospect of landing in the middle of enemy territory. The longer the better, so far as he was concerned. He was genuinely without fear.
    Now Doug was giving Guy a hard time, shouldering him off the edge of the bunk. "You've got balls to say you're in charge, when this is your first mission." His mean little eyes squinty with amusement. Doug loved picking on people, and he knew Guy's dignity as an officer wouldn't let him fight back.
    "What about exfil?" I chipped in.
    Andy gave me a hard look. It said, you aren't going on this trip, little brother, so why ask? Eventually he said, "That's still to be decided. It depends what we find out. They may send the helicopter back or a submarine. If necessary we can always tab out for the Chilean border, fifty miles west."
    "What's the country like?" Taffy wanted to know. He was our Stinger missile operator and would be carrying one of the biggest loads.
    "Pampas and moorland mainly." Andy grinned. "Just think the Brecon Beacons in winter and you'll know what to expect."
    "Shit!" someone said and there was a general groan. The Brecon Beacons in Wales were our regular training ground. Soldiers had died out there of hypothermia and exhaustion.
    Andy took us back to specifics. The helicopter would drop the patrol off north-west of the base. It would work its way up to the perimeter during darkness and establish a