The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comcattle pen and put into a different stress position. Those who enduredwere finally released after 20 hours.Finally, because we would shortly learn to parachute, we had to pass P-company, a brutal fitness test taken by the Parachute Regiment as atest of suitability for parachute training. It required explosivestrength and power rather than the stamina of SAS selection and I wassorry to see that after going so far a couple of guys failed this lasthurdle. The handful of us who remained were `badged' in a simpleceremony by the CO (Commanding Officer), a colonel in 22 SAS, andaccepted into the regiment. It was a proud moment for me, but it neededto be kept in perspective. Our selection process was a stroll in thepark compared to the far more arduous and drawn out selection of theregular army's 22 SAS regiment, and our standards of soldiering weremuch lower. We were awarded an identical beret, but that was about theonly thing that was equal between the two regiments.Between TA weekends, my first priority was to get fit enough to passSAS selection. Most mornings I arrived at Booz Allen & Hamilton afterrunning twice around Hyde Park, then clock-watched until the eveningwhen I could escape to the nearby Lansdowne sports club for a couple ofkilometres of swimming. My lifestyle priorities were very differentfrom my colleagues', who dedicated their spare time to eating anddrinking, and I felt little sense of identity with them, exacerbated bythe sense of achievement in getting badged. Every morning at my desk Iwondered what motivated them in their daily struggle to climb thecorporate ladder. Ernst Goldstein was particularly inscrutable. He onlyhad a few more years to wait to receive a fortune that was held in atrust fund until his 30th birthday and although he earned a heftysalary as a management consultant, he lived as if he had alreadyinherited big money, borrowing heavily to support a lavish andextravagant lifestyle. He spent hours on the phone, mostly chatting tofriends organising expensive parties and occasionally to clients whomhe oleaginously addressed as `Sir'. Whenever his trimphone rang, hishand shot out like a striking cobra, reaching the receiver before thefirst `tring' had finished, and he answered `Goldstein speaking' withirritating eagerness. While the whole office was working late one nighton a `vitally important' project, I sneaked over to his cubicle whilehe was absent and glued down his trimphone receiver with a couple ofblobs of superglue. When he returned a few minutes later with themanaging director and started enthusiastically discussing a cashflowspreadsheet, I rang him on the internal line. As usual, his hand shotout like a frog's tongue for the receiver, but this time it came backwith the phone attached, clattering into the side of his head. Worse,because the cradle had not been tripped, the telephone would not stopringing. Goldstein went berserk, waving the still-ringing phone aroundas if he were trying to shake a mad dog off his arm. At last, with amanic desperate yank, he ripped the receiver away - only it came awaywith the top half of the telephone, spilling wires and bells on to thedesk. The office was in uproar by now, but Goldstein was oblivious. Heput the receiver to his ear and, oleaginous as ever, replied,`Goldstein speaking.' The managing director stalked off, trying not tolose his dignity by bursting into laughter.Shortly afterwards, I resigned. The writing was on the wall even beforethe trimphone incident. The managing director realised that I was notinterested in the job and started playing games to make lifepage- 18 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com