Customer Reviews

The Rigger: Operating with the SAS

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A concrete bunker deep in bandit country that is surrounded by a wire mesh fence and claymore mines. There is a mast next to the bunker and the only way in or out of this location is by chopper.
Excerpt from the book:
`Bring your gear over,' shouted the load master.
We lugged it and stowed it under his supervision, then went back to our original spot, and waited. Power was fed into the chopper motor and the whir grew louder, shriller and more intense. They started to rotate slowly to begin with, then picked up speed until all blades blurred into one. The pilot looked back through his window and gave the thumbs up to the load master, `Come on,' he shouted waving his arm.
We boarded and sat facing the door as the load master clipped a line hanging from the roof to the harness he was wearing. The engine reached full pitch after he spoke into his microphone and we quickly rose into the air. As soon as we were clear of the buildings, the pilot banked a sharp right and shot forward catching all three of us unaware. A tickle of fear crept into me as I grabbed hold of the seat to prevent myself falling out of the open door.
The load master turned around and looked at us, smiling. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to. He could see by the look on our faces that they'd achieved what they'd set out to do. It was tactical flying all the way since the IRA had downed one of their choppers. It was exhilarating with no warnings of maneuvers. The big bird would suddenly rise or drop, or bank right or left to give us sinking and rising feelings in our stomachs.
THE CLIMB:
They stood by their slits. Switched on their night scopes. Scanned and adjusted. I waited until they came fully alive, then fastened on my belt.
It had turned into a clear night. Might as well have been daytime it was so light. The moon was like a giant searchlight beaming down. It revealed every detail in perfect clarity. Trees loomed on the surrounding hills beyond the fence. Bramble bushes could be seen distinctly at two hundred metres. The parts of the concrete bunker not covered by earth seemed to act like giant mirrors, and reflected the moon's rays everywhere. There was no hiding, and no turning back. The area was alive with animals scurrying and rustling in the undergrowth, calling to each other. If it's going to happen, it's going to happen. I'd often thought about taking a weapon up with me. I'd been through this many times. Each time realizing that the only thing I'd want to do if shot at would be to run down. I wouldn't be able to see where the shot came from, and the weapon would get in the way, on my mad rush down.
Gone were the days of jangling spanners and antennae banging on the mast. My rigging techniques were honed and perfected. No more shaking hands. No more trembling knees. No more breathlessness. Every move and ounce of energy spent were deliberate, and directed.
The wildlife sensed the tension in me. Went quiet. Waited.

A customer review at amazon.co.uk

A very interesting and easy-to-read book about a subject that I never really knew much about until now. I know all about the SAS and 14th Intelligence and Security Group, or whatever they call themselves nowadays, but neglected to think of the people, without whom the aforementioned security forces could not communicate, that risk their lives to climb 400+ foot masts to either put up or maintain antennae whilst under IRA gunfire, sometimes with fatal consequences. I read it in a night, but that was because I couldn't put it down. I recommend this book to anyone interested in the conflict in Northern Ireland and the military in general, but it is also a story of personal achievement. A very good read!

Anthony Kemp - the world's leading authority on the SAS says:

Wow - a super book.
It arrived yesterday and as I was having lunch I decided to dip into it. It was not until I looked at the clock, that I realised that it was past three and my lunch had congealed on the plate.
I laughed until I cried about Brummie and the horse turd in his burger.
You have a natural ability to write dialogue which is rare and the jargon of the squaddies is worth a study in itself. Your description of the sleeping arrangements at Bessbrook was a delight - one could almost smell the place and feel it. Ugh.

Having spent time in the Province employed in this very field, I was glad to see that someone had at last made the effort to write about this little known and overlooked task that is carried out on an almost daily basis. However now that I have read the book, I am disappointed that "Jack" felt it necessary to make constant vague references to "Special Forces". Although he did undoubtably work in support of these people, the tasks that he carried out and those carried out by other Royal Signals Riggers are daring and pulse racing enough without trying to hang on the back of other peoples glory. I think that "Jack" has missed the point. He could have told the story of these brave lads who risked their lives day after day, going to some of the hardest areas in NI, climbing towers in South Armagh, Belfast, Londonderry and East Tyrone without teams of "Operators" watching their backs. He does however get across the feeling of almost acute paranoia that is felt at the beginning and end of a tour, the mind numbing tiredness felt after long hours of stress combined with hard physical work and also the terrible heart ache when a friend is lost.

Reviewer: A reader from United Kingdom
Jack's book is very good and realistic, it is an exceptional read and is a testament to all those unsung heroes who served their time in NI. Many lives were altered from the experience of serving within the conflict, many were just doing what they thought was an ordinary job in different circumstances just like Jack. What is refreshing is that Jack has written what we all wanted to say, but then we havn't the talent as a Writer. Whatever your standpoint when reading the book you can't help but feel sorry, not just for Jack but for the many other who were affected also.