The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comthe PRC319 VHF radio, DMHD (Digital Message Handling Device), codebooks and OTPs (One Time Pads), an SA80 5.68mm rifle, SUSAT telescopicday-sight, image-intensifying night-sight and all my personal survivalkit. With a static-line parachute on my back, a reserve parachute on mychest and all this equipment bundled up and hanging off the front ofthe parachute harness, it was nearly impossible to walk to the Transalltransport aircraft for the flight to the DZ (Drop Zone).As dawn was breaking, we were parachuted in our patrols into the flatfarmland of northern Belgium. The Belgian army were out in force withhelicopters, ground troops and search dogs acting as the `enemy' totrack us down. We had to get off the DZ and into cover fast to avoidcapture. We got ourselves into a small copse by a pond and I set up theradio while the others mounted stags (look-out) and got a brew on.Within minutes the DMHD had received a string of 40 numbers. Afterdecyphering it with the OTPs and decoding it with the code-book, we hadthe order to set up an OP (Observation Post) on a road about tenkilometres from our existing location, in order to report on `enemy'traffic movements. To avoid detection, we had to make the distancestraight away in the few hours that remained before daybreak.That would be the pattern for the next four days. A long walk at night,sometimes as far as 40 kilometres, then a lay-up during the day in anOP where we signalled back to the UK command centre our observations oftraffic movements of the Belgian army. Between shifts on stag ormanning the radio, we grabbed a few hours' sleep.By the end of the first week, we were all filthy dirty and dishevelled.Camouflage cream and mud was ground into our beards, our fingernailswere clogged and our clothing was stinking and soaked with theceaseless rain. We had also run out of food. Given time, finding foodand water would not be much of a problem - there were turnips andpotatoes in the fields, water in ditches and ponds. But the DS werepiling the pressure on us and we had no time to foray.The exercise was drawing to a close but the hardest part was still tocome. That night we were supposed to make an RV with a `partisan'friendly agent on the other side of the heavily guarded Albert canal.All the bridges would certainly be guarded and there would be footpatrols along the towpaths. We'd heard endless shooting during thenight as the Dutch and German patrols, who had started the exercise theday before us, ran into trouble. All we had eaten for the past two dayswas a few boiled sweets and biscuits that we had got from one of theburied caches, whose locations had been signalled through to us. Ourmaps showed a pond in the midst of our copse but it was dried up tonothing more than a foulsmelling, mosquito-filled swamp, meaning wealso had no safe water.`We need some food, badly,' announced Ian, to grunts of approval fromthe others. `Tomlinson, you speak French, don't you?' he said. `Getyour civvies on and see if you can get us some food.' At the bottom ofmy bergen there were some training shoes for use on river crossings,lightweight dark grey Tenson trousers which could double as tacticaltrousers and a blue Helly Hansen thermal shirt. While I changed intothem Jock got some of the foul-smelling swamp water on the boil,picking out the the mosquito larvae, so that I could have a wash and ashave. An hour or so later, I almost looked like part of the human racepage- 21 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com