"Энди Макнаб. Немедленная операция (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

two because of all the different jobs.
True, I could hardly count myself as a mate, but at least I was aware
of them and they were aware of me. I felt that in my own small way I'd
arrived-whether for good or bad, I didn't know. And the memories of Malaya
wouldn't leave me for as long as I lived-or at least, not as long as I had a
small brown circular scar halfway down the leech's dinner.
e were on probation for our first year. After Selection we lost our
rank but kept the same pay since we hadn't qualified yet as Special Forces
soldiers. I became a trooper but was still receiving a sergeant's infantry
pay, which was less than a trooper earned in the Special Air Service.
To qualify for SF pay, I would have to get a patrol skill-either
signals, demolitions, medical, or a language. The first one everyone has to
have is signals; if the shit hits the fan, everybody's got to be able to
shout, "Help!
I would also need my entry skill. Mobility Troop need to know how to
drive a whole range of vehicles; divers need to be able to dive; Mountain
Troop need to get themselves up and down hills; free-fallers need to learn
how to free-fall into a location. No patrol skill, no extra pay, but it was
a Catch-22: We were going away and doing the job, but we couldn't get paid
unless we'd got the qualifications to do the job, but we couldn't get the
qualifications because we were too busy doing it.
Soon after I came back from Malaya, we were going to start training for
the counterterrorist team. One troop from the squadron would go to Northern
Ireland; the other three troops would then constitute the counterterrorism
team. Seven Troop had been designated for over the water.
There were no patrol skill courses running in my time slot, but there
was one for my entry skill. It wouldn't qualify me for the pay on its own,
but at least I would understand what the other blokes in the troop were
talking about when they mentioned riggers, risers, brake lines, baselines,
or flare.
When people think about the S.A.S, their image is either of Land Rovers
screaming around the desert, men in black kit abseiling down embassy walls,
or free fallers with all the kit on, leaping into the night. Free fall, like
the other entry skills, is in fact just a means of getting from A to B.
To count myself as proficient in the skill, I would have to be able to
jump as part of a patrol and keep together in the air at night on oxygen,
with full equipment loads weighing in excess of 120 pounds.
I would have to be able to follow a bundle (container) holding my own
extra equipment or gear that we were delivering to other troops on the
ground, and the patrol must have maintained its integrity. If the entry
phase went wrong, there would be a snowball effect and big cock-ups.
For all that, it was obviously addictive. There were world-class free
fall jumpers in the Regiment, people who had represented the UK in
international competition.
The free fall course was about six weeks long, and by the end of it I
would be able to jump confidently. It would provide a baseline; from there
the troop would bring me on.
My particular course entailed two weeks in the UK, two weeks in Pau, a
French military base in the Pyrenees, and then two more back in the UK. If
the weather was bad, some courses would take place entirely in the United