them, slinging his bag onto a chair.
“For
Christ’s sake!” Matt said, throwing the Army newspaper he had been reading down
on the table. “Our frigg’n union team just got flogged again, that’s twice in a
row!”
“Who’d
we lose to this time?” asked Will, taking up the paper. On the front cover was
a picture of a young soldier who was hesitantly abseiling down a cliff. A
physical training instructor was above him, standing on the ledge and urging
him on.
“We
lost to those poofters in the RAAF,” replied Matt. “That’s twice they’ve beaten
our team this year.”
The
disappointed medic looked up, “g’day mate,” he said to Steve.
“Where’s
everyone else?” Steve asked.
“Dave
said he’s been held up in traffic. Should be another twenty minutes or so.”
“Bullshit,”
chuckled Scott Gillman with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
Everyone knew that if Dave was going to be late, he’d ring them on his mobile
and tell them he was held up in traffic. He’d even had the gall to do it on
exercise last year out in the Woomera desert. The truth was he’d rung them as
he sat reading the paper at a petrol station outside town, with a sandwich and
a coke to keep him company. He had told them he’d endeavour to get the 4 x 4
Land Rover back to them as soon as he could. Dave was a solid soldier, but like
many of them in the SASR, he had a colourful sense of humour.
Dave
arrived in the briefing room ten minutes later, followed shortly afterwards by
Colonel Bracker. The group launched into the planning of their mission almost
immediately, beginning with what they had extracted from the book. The planning
of a mission was the most important part of an operation. Success or failure
did not rely on heroic actions on the battlefield, but by thoughtful and
meticulous planning that incorporated almost any scenario that could happen to
a patrol while they were deployed on operation. In that way, if a problem did
arise and had been planned for, the patrol could react effectively and
immediately.
The
planning of a mission by SAS soldiers was far different to the way it was
planned in the regular army.
They
would then go ahead and collectively plan the mission. This type of open floor
method of planning was not however looked upon kindly by some SAS members who
tended to stick to the old “This is the way I want it done and that’s the end
of it”. Both methods however had their pros and cons.
A
newly recruited officer fresh off continuation training found this out the hard
way. He had spent the best part of two days by himself, planning the storming
of a large office block, which, according to the exercise, had been taken over
by terrorists. Even though it was an exercise, in the eyes of the SAS the threat
was taken very seriously.
The
officer had briefed the group of soldiers who would be carrying out the entry
and clearing of the building. When he asked the group for their opinion, the
listening soldiers immediately scrapped the plan and began working on another.
It had been a waste of two days, and if it had been a real situation, would
probably have seen loss of life for both the hostages and soldiers. The reason
the plan was scrapped was because, upon extensive viewing of the photographs
provided, the door through which the officer planned for some of the attacking
force to enter, opened outwards. It had been as simple as that. A door opening
outwards took longer to enter. Because of its outward swing, it worked against
the momentum of the physical forces created by the instruments that the
soldiers would use to open it, that is, an explosive charge, shotgun blasts to
the hinges, or a kick. An outwards swinging door may only take a fraction
longer to enter than a door that opened inwards, but that pivotal moment may be
enough to allow a terrorist standing near the door to bring his weapon to bear
and fire. The element of surprise was the main weapon in anti-terrorist
operations.
In
a
“For
Christ’s sake!” Matt said, throwing the Army newspaper he had been reading down
on the table. “Our frigg’n union team just got flogged again, that’s twice in a
row!”
“Who’d
we lose to this time?” asked Will, taking up the paper. On the front cover was
a picture of a young soldier who was hesitantly abseiling down a cliff. A
physical training instructor was above him, standing on the ledge and urging
him on.
“We
lost to those poofters in the RAAF,” replied Matt. “That’s twice they’ve beaten
our team this year.”
The
disappointed medic looked up, “g’day mate,” he said to Steve.
“Where’s
everyone else?” Steve asked.
“Dave
said he’s been held up in traffic. Should be another twenty minutes or so.”
“Bullshit,”
chuckled Scott Gillman with a fresh, steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
Everyone knew that if Dave was going to be late, he’d ring them on his mobile
and tell them he was held up in traffic. He’d even had the gall to do it on
exercise last year out in the Woomera desert. The truth was he’d rung them as
he sat reading the paper at a petrol station outside town, with a sandwich and
a coke to keep him company. He had told them he’d endeavour to get the 4 x 4
Land Rover back to them as soon as he could. Dave was a solid soldier, but like
many of them in the SASR, he had a colourful sense of humour.
Dave
arrived in the briefing room ten minutes later, followed shortly afterwards by
Colonel Bracker. The group launched into the planning of their mission almost
immediately, beginning with what they had extracted from the book. The planning
of a mission was the most important part of an operation. Success or failure
did not rely on heroic actions on the battlefield, but by thoughtful and
meticulous planning that incorporated almost any scenario that could happen to
a patrol while they were deployed on operation. In that way, if a problem did
arise and had been planned for, the patrol could react effectively and
immediately.
The
planning of a mission by SAS soldiers was far different to the way it was
planned in the regular army.
They
would then go ahead and collectively plan the mission. This type of open floor
method of planning was not however looked upon kindly by some SAS members who
tended to stick to the old “This is the way I want it done and that’s the end
of it”. Both methods however had their pros and cons.
A
newly recruited officer fresh off continuation training found this out the hard
way. He had spent the best part of two days by himself, planning the storming
of a large office block, which, according to the exercise, had been taken over
by terrorists. Even though it was an exercise, in the eyes of the SAS the threat
was taken very seriously.
The
officer had briefed the group of soldiers who would be carrying out the entry
and clearing of the building. When he asked the group for their opinion, the
listening soldiers immediately scrapped the plan and began working on another.
It had been a waste of two days, and if it had been a real situation, would
probably have seen loss of life for both the hostages and soldiers. The reason
the plan was scrapped was because, upon extensive viewing of the photographs
provided, the door through which the officer planned for some of the attacking
force to enter, opened outwards. It had been as simple as that. A door opening
outwards took longer to enter. Because of its outward swing, it worked against
the momentum of the physical forces created by the instruments that the
soldiers would use to open it, that is, an explosive charge, shotgun blasts to
the hinges, or a kick. An outwards swinging door may only take a fraction
longer to enter than a door that opened inwards, but that pivotal moment may be
enough to allow a terrorist standing near the door to bring his weapon to bear
and fire. The element of surprise was the main weapon in anti-terrorist
operations.
In
a