The One That Got Away: My SAS Mission Behind Iraqi Lines (Memories of War)

The One That Got Away: My SAS Mission Behind Iraqi Lines (Memories of War)

Chris Ryan

Language: English

Pages: 260

ISBN: 1597970085

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


The British Army’s SAS—the Special Air Service—is recognized as one of the world’s premier special operations units. During the Gulf War, deep behind Iraqi lines, an SAS team was compromised. A fierce firefight ensued, and the eight men were forced to run for their lives. Only one, Chris Ryan, escaped capture—by walking nearly 180 miles through the desert for a week. The One That Got Away is his breathtaking story of extraordinary courage under fire, of narrow escapes, of highly trained soldiers struggling against the most adverse of conditions, and, above all, of one man’s courageous refusal to lie down and die.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

worried and asked, ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Did you say venereal?’ ‘No, no – viral. I said viral.’ He laughed and said, ‘It’s just a viral infection which will work its way through your body.’ He also found that I had a blood disorder, and enzymes in my liver. On the nuclear front, he did mention leukaemia, but brushed aside the possibility. Naturally that worried me, as I thought the army might be sweeping the subject under the carpet, rather than facing the truth. After that we returned home, and

my old self. Then in August 1991 I and one other guy were detailed at short notice to go out to a central African country, where the political situation was deteriorating fast and people were needed to guard the British Embassy and evacuate the ambassador, together with his remaining staff. Jan was furious that I, out of everyone available, had been selected for what was obviously a dangerous task. But in fact the team grew from two to four, and then to eight. By the time we flew out, things

intercom system, hung down from the sides of the cabin and made it possible to listen to the pilots talking. When we landed to refuel at Arar, the pilot shut down his engines, and I sat there thinking, ‘I hope this damn thing doesn’t start up again!’ Once again we waited where we were, and no one had much to say. My mind wandered back to the occasion when, on a training exercise with the SP team, we were aboard a Puma, going in to attack a runaway coach. In the back of the heli we were all

yelling out loud – which of course was bad for our nerves, as anybody could have heard him from hundreds of metres off. Stan hissed, ‘Vince – be quiet!’ and he shut up for a while. Because hypothermia was hitting us, our navigation had become erratic. For some time I’d had the feeling that I was drifting away from reality. The map was saying one thing, and what was happening on the ground seemed to be quite different. Somehow we were getting dragged off to the north-east all the time. I don’t

mock-execution out in the desert kept me on edge. It seemed crazy to be flying to Cyprus, for the island lies more or less due west of Damascus, and it was east that I wanted to be heading. But the flight lasted less than a couple of hours, and soon we were coming in to land at Larnaca, with my mind racked by anxiety about what the score was in the squadron. TEN BACK TO BASE ONE GOOD MOVE the Defence Attaché had made was to jack up someone to meet me. He’d spoken to a friend in the RAF who

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