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.

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remember me. But Jan told me that every night when she went to bed, she’d kissed a photograph of me and said, ‘Goodnight, Daddy.’ Now as we reached home she shouted, ‘Hello, Daddy!’ and jumped into my arms. Once we’d got sorted out, we drove up to London, and reached Woolwich about 5p.m. I don’t know what people had been expecting, but they’d scrubbed out an isolation ward for my sole benefit, and when I stuck my head round a pair of double doors, someone shouted, ‘Get out! Get out!’ as though I

The moon was so bright that I felt as if a spotlight was beaming down on me. I was swept up in panic, just as I had been when chased as a kid. It was as if I’d been found out, and was on my own. I ran till I had to slow down, because I was feeling like I had during the initial contact: my throat was heaving, my chest exploding, my mouth dry as the desert. I’d had no water all through that day, and soon I was so knackered that it was painful even to walk. All the time I was turning to look

knew what was happening to me. I don’t think Vince did; he was deteriorating so fast. What about Stan? It seemed certain that he’d been captured, and I could only hope he wasn’t having too bad a time. As for the other five – I reckoned that the chopper must have come back and lifted them out. I felt sure that the aircraft had been inbound towards our original position, following normal Lost Comms procedure, and that it would have flown around until the guys made contact with the pilot. ‘By now,’

rinsed them through. When she brought them back, of course they were still wet, but I pulled them on, and got my boots back on as well. In sign language, and by making aircraft sounds, I tried to indicate that I was a pilot and had been in a crash. Then I made some siren sounds – dee-dah, dee-dah, dee-dah – to show that I wanted to go to the police. A boy of about six had been drawing pictures of tanks and aircraft on sheets of dirty white paper. With my numb fingers I drew a police car with a

commanders, his needed the most balls. To have stayed where he was would have been suicide – a replica of what had happened to us, if not worse. A year later people would start to say: ‘Well, maybe he did the right thing after all’ – but at the time he suffered. Anyway, it was a big surprise for me to hear that all three OPs had been eliminated, for one reason or another. With Bravo Two Zero, it turned out that the comms failure had been due mainly to the fact that we’d been given the wrong

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