Ready for Anything The Paras

Remember, keep your eyes open at all times, just squeeze the trigger.

Good shot, release, follow through.

The first shots of the Falklands War,

when British marines in South Georgia optimistically brought down

a helicopter and holed an Argentinean warship,

were fired with this, the 84mm anti-tank gun,

one of the many weapons with which the recruits of 480 Platoon

were now urgently required to feel at home.

I'm going to screw you for that!

They were on 24-hour standby for a war where the targets fired back.

And what was left of training was being cut short.

Like it or lump it,

they'd have to observe the Paras motto, Ready For Anything.

When the Falklands crisis came along we had to stand by extra soldiers

in case they were needed,

and it would be wrong for me to answer the telephone

when Mrs Thatcher rang up and said,

"Colonel Bruce, I need 30 more men,"

and I said, "Sorry, madam, they won't be ready for another three weeks."

And so we had to make a decision and be prepared.

Before embarking,

Falklands troops had come to these Welsh mountain ranges to sharpen up.

A few weeks later, 480 Platoon arrived to start at square one.

What we're after now is accurate shooting and good fieldcraft.

When you do this quick reaction shooting that you've been shown,

fire off two shots and then go quickly to ground.

I don't want to see anybody waiting in the aim.

Let's go. Come on.

Look at the ground where you're going to go. Come on. Down! Down!

Don't wave the rifle around like a flag, son.

If you can't see him, he can't see you.

If, at such close quarters,

you haven't got time to muck about with your sights,

shoot it shotgun-fashion even from the ground, OK?

You're only talking about 20 metres.

Keep your weapon just a little higher, son.

OK. Straighten that left arm.

How many times did you drag your weapon

when you were withdrawing back like this?

Coming back out of cover you were there.

All right, prepare to move.

You were doing this. What's going to happen to your muzzle?

- Fill with dirt. - Right. What's going to happen then?

It's going to blow up in your face.

Both hands up.

Back. It's there. If you've got two hands on your weapon

you can use it again if need be, can't you?

- Yeah. - OK. Good.

Stage two. Similar but unnatural ground.

The tutor, Captain Dave Allen.

What we're going to do now is an exercise in CQB,

close quarter battle.

I want you to imagine now that you are a member of a patrol

which has been ambushed,

and as far as you can judge there is only you left around.

Your problem is to get back from where you are

to your company defensive position as quickly as you can,

and there's nobody else there to assist you,

so it's all down to you, you are on your own.

Not quite. Captain Allen and two staff go with them.

One raises targets to pinpoint the enemy's position,

another fires ahead to simulate enemy shots.

Right, just stop and look around you at what little cover there is.

The bank of the stream affords more cover than does that grass.

Get in it, behind it, now. Lower. Lower! Lower!

When the enemy shows himself I want the weapon in the shoulder.

All right. You'll hit nobody from down there. Carry on.

He's there again, look. He's there again, look.

Now look where you are now.

Isn't that a better fire position than where you were on the bank?

Yes, Sir.

Right, I'm trying to save your life, son. Remember.

Well done. Stop, unload!

This time the weapon is the sub-machine-gun,

less effective than the rifle,

but at short range, easier to use for clearance work.

Shall we clear?

All right, now,

you must remember that lying on top

or halfway round the side of a bit of cover

is absolutely no use at all.

All right, you've got to be right down there.

All right? If possible fire from round the side.

There's no point in lying on the top of cover like that,

cos all you're doing is giving him a chance

to get the medal that you're after. Understand?

Yes, Sir.

Fire and manoeuvre in pairs, a key lesson in communication.

In battle it always is.

In the Falklands, Para patrols fired on each other, inflicting casualties.

Go!

Again, simulated enemy fire adds to the confusion.

Go!

Right, in cover. In cover.

In cover! That's not cover.

As soon as he starts firing, we move.

You understand?

Right, he's firing, now we go. Come on.

Let's go.

Crack on, let's go.

Stop there!

Hey, don't you ever, ever fire on the run again.

You haven't been taught it these last three days. Don't do it.

- Yeah, see it? - Yes, Sir.

Get it engaged, then.

Now, better fire position than that, come on,

slot back behind this... Not there, you lemon,

behind this tree behind you, look.

Keep low. Low silhouette.

Let's go.

Let's go. Come on, he's giving us covering fire.

You see, really, you can carry on firing

until he's right up on that target.

Magazine!

Drop down, get it fixed. Good. Good. Good.

OK, more fire.

Get him in cover, man, get him in cover.

Ammo!

If you're out of ammunition, fix a bayonet, pick up a brick,

take off your shovel, do something, OK?

OK, that was good.

Just come back onto the other side of the river.

Momentum.

You've got to maintain the momentum,

otherwise the whole thing will grind to a halt.

It's bad enough as it is at the moment, all right,

because the cover has got to be found,

you've got to engage the enemy and you're knackered.

Next time you do it there'll be stuff coming this way as well,

so it's going to be doubly difficult,

and if you don't maintain that momentum,

the whole thing will grind to a halt

and someone is going to have to extricate you. OK?

- Sir. - So you must keep it going. Right?

When you get a stoppage or you have to change your magazine,

shout the required word.

Magazine! That'll do. Yeah?

Because there were times I knew you had a stoppage but he didn't.

All right? And if you've got a stoppage

and he starts to move, curtains.

Right? Now, when you have to reload,

cure a stoppage or whatever, make sure the next magazine is to hand.

We want that magazine out and on the weapon straight away,

and the weapon back in action.

Cos his life depends on it. Do you understand that?

- Yes, Sir. You do understand that, don't you?

We're not just playing a game.

Before you go out there you've got in your mind what you are going to do.

You go out there and you forget it all.

You're just running, you don't know what you're doing.

I ran out of ammo at the very end,

he said, "What are you going to do?"

I said, "Ask me what I've got to do."

I just remembered I put the bayonet on. You don't know what's going on.

You've got it all planned out,

then you go out there and just forget it all.

You tend to forget how much you've got in your magazine.

They tell you to count, but there's no way you can.

We were doing this up the woods, the same thing,

and I had a dead man's click, as it's called.

You just pull the trigger and it goes "click,"

and there's no rounds in it,

and you've got that sort of feeling, "Urgghh," you know, you're dead.

As you was looking for your target and someone's talking behind you,

you can't hear what they're saying.

Sometimes you can, but I just didn't.

I was looking for the target and it's just going in and out.

It just can't be helped.

With me being left-handed I was going on the other side of the trees

and I was lower, so when I looked all I could see was reeds and that,

so I had to change cover all the time.

I enjoy this because you're active all day,

you feel you're achieving something.

And it is all day.

Yeah. Literally all day. About nine till ten at night, 11 at night.

And what time do you get up in the morning?

Six in the morning we get up, yeah.

But whereas at Brize Norton we had loads of free time to ourselves...

Loads of nappy breaks.

But that's just it, you know. That's the difference.

From attack to defence.

Exercise Long Watch.

Working now as a platoon,

they set up a defensive position on a singularly unyielding hilltop.

Hard rock.

Picking away, we need a pneumatic drill.

Outdated, old-fashioned soldiering, shades of 1918,

yet in 1982, that very night, on Mount Longdon,

some young boys from Captain Baird's previous platoon

were also living in holes in the ground.

And others were dying.

Some went on digging

for almost all the two days and nights they spent there,

but not Tony Butler, the judo man.

He alone slept secure in a completed trench on the first night,

when the long watch began.

The compressed timetable,

with lectures crammed between battle exercises, often in the wrong order,

meant that the recruits were unusually fatigued,

and as we watched them through the camera's image intensifier,

the nagging though recurred,

if they went to war in a week could they be more than cannon fodder?

In this realistic exercise testing their battle sense,

they seemed green indeed in judgment.

A sniper with a modern night-sight would have the same view.

Oddly, because of their camouflage,

the more the dawn light filtered through,

the less visible and vulnerable they seemed, and anxiety faded.

Just before 4am on the second night,

after an attack by a mythical terrorist force,

the platoon began to move back down the valley.

Was this a retreat?

No, hissed Sergeant Riley, Paras never retreat, they withdraw.

It was a withdrawal in contact with the enemy,

and preferably with each other.

And if proof were again needed that this exercise

was as close as maybe to the real thing,

it came one hour and three miles later.

Come on, hurry up.

No-one was dead, but a number were certainly missing.

What's happened now is because of the laziness

of a particular person in this rifle group here,

the gun team has been lost back on the withdrawal.

We've been waiting here for a certain time.

I've been back to the RV to check if I could find them.

They're not there, we can't wait any longer.

The rear elements of Six Platoon back up the road there

say the enemy is pushing on,

we've got to withdraw to a suitable area back over the ridgeline.

Which side of you was the gun group on?

- Your left or right? - I don't know, Sir.

I didn't actually see the gun group when I went to ground, Sir.

So they came into the RV behind you?

- Is that right? - Yes, Sir.

It's my fault, Sir.

No, no. I'm not blaming you,

but you must be aware that there is a responsibility within the section

for everybody to know where everybody is.

Don't worry. We'll find them.

Did you get a message from Butler?

No. I was down, looking down the track,

and I saw Butler on my right-hand side near that rock.

Turned back. When I turned back again it had gone.

- So he didn't give you any message? - I never heard any message.

- Did you hear him move? - No.

Certain points come out from this.

Now, if the enemy had been following up there

and you ain't got the message to pass back,

I'm not saying it's your fault now, hearing your side of it,

Butler's admitted that he didn't tell you, OK,

so 90% of the blame is his, but 10% is yours, Ward.

You were the section 2IC for this particular phase,

you should have been kept as a link man with the gun

and the rest of the section. All right? All a bit tired, aren't we?

- Eh? Ward? - Corporal.

Right, go back over there and carry on doing the defence stores.

Once they're done, move back to your trench and start filling them in.

Remember, don't bury the kip sheets.

OK? Quickly get away.

FIBUA. Fighting in a built-up area.

Staring recruits in the face even in wild Wales were bleak reminders

of a history of house clearing and street fighting by Paras.

And if the Argentineans proved stubborn at Port Stanley,

this special skill might yet be required.

480 Platoon had one day to learn the rudiments.

When the flash goes off, go forward.

Go! Come on, get in there quickly!

Come on, get moving, get in there!

Shit! Get out.

Right in, go on!

Right, attack and clear the landing instead.

Third floor clear!

Come on!

There's too much banging around.

Pull it down.

If you're not involved, get out of the way.

Fire!

Stop!

Breach left.

I don't think I've ever seen a platoon

be so professional at that stage of their training.

And when I came back having seen all three sections through,

I was a very proud man.

So they, in the end,

turned out to be above average in performance as well as in...

Indeed, certainly.

And, of course, the proof is in the pudding

that they were actually in tactics using live ammunition.

They would have been ready to go to the Falklands if called.

They weren't. After all the fuss and the build-up,

just as they completed their course and were poised

on the edge of readiness, 480 Platoon

learned that Port Stanley had been taken.

The Paras were coming home.

MILITARY MARCH PLAYS

There he is!

As Britain congratulated the returning heroes

and 480 Platoon congratulated each other,

the training staff could only reflect on what might have been.

It's our regiment,

and if people are out there getting killed and that, you know,

for our regiment,

then we want to be there as well instead of being stuck here.

But there again, that's all water under the bridge now.

And did you all try to go? Volunteer and bang on doors?

Well, the 2 and 3 Para guys did, yeah.

I went up to see the adjutant

and asked if there were any more vacancies to go, like,

you know, to get down there, and he said,

"Well, you're about number 78 on the waiting list to go."

- So it just dissolved me. - I phoned up 2 Para,

went up to see Captain Woods, who got killed out there,

and he said I could go out there, but it was stopped from this end

because they'd let so many guys go already.

You know, the line has got to be drawn somewhere.

I think you'll find that the CO wanted to go as well,

so, I mean, there'd be nobody left down here.

All the sergeant-majors wanted to go, everybody.

They could have closed this place

and sent the recruits home for a couple of months and sent us all.

The hardest thing is seeing the recruits

that you've actually had in previous platoons and seeing them

on the television or whatever coming back, and we've trained them here.

You champion!

While our boys were being press-ganged

into displays of public emotion,

our boys with nowhere to go got all dressed up.

Their passing-out parade, hitherto cancelled, was now on again.

22 weeks I've had you and you still can't speak Queen's English.

WESTCOUNTRY ACCENT: It's better than the Queen, Sergeant.

It's what? Is it? Arrr!

You'll be asking for a glass of cider next before we go on.

There were still one or two loose ends.

Tony Butler, because of a knee injury,

had never completed his eight jumps during parachute training.

Nor, because of an ear infection, had Phil Tatum.

Unprecedentedly, therefore, because of the Falklands,

two men would pass out without wings on their shoulders.

But the jumps would soon be made and everything neatly sewn up.

MILITARY MARCH PLAYS

It was Corporal Slater whose advice in the first week had been,

"Don't get noticed."

Over six months, one or two had almost achieved it.

Indeed, it was just before the end of training

that Private Rod Stoner found himself the centre of attention

after taking a day off to marry, in his mates' words, "a right cracker,"

and she was there when he emerged for the second time as the dark horse.

The champion recruit of 480 Platoon is Private Stoner.

Stoner, well done.

These are not given lightly,

and you've done very, very well indeed to win that.

And you're off to the Third Battalion very soon?

Yes, Sir.

Great stuff. Well done.

The second award is for the platoon champion shot

with a self-loading rifle, and this is Private Birrel.

- Well done, Birrel. - Thank you, Sir.

I hope you keep the shooting up.

It's possibly the most important thing a soldier can do.

Had you shot before you came in the army?

- No, Sir. - Well done, then.

Thank you, Sir.

The final award is for the platoon champion shot

with a general-purpose machine gun, Private Butler.

Well done, Butler.

Had you done any shooting before the army?

Hadn't been in the cadets or anything like that?

- No, Sir. - Well done indeed.

It was July 16th.

26 weeks and five days earlier,

Captain Baird had predicted that only about a third of those

who started with the platoon would pass out with it.

He was right. 16 out of 41.

Steven Birrel, champion rifle shot,

whose ever-present effervescence kept up platoon moral.

Spider Craddock, who won no prizes, but never lost a fight.

Ewan Fleming, who said he'd give it a good hard try, and succeeded.

Ali Melvin, the ex-territorial

who learned to survive by keeping his mouth shut.

Nick Moy, only 17, he surprised himself by always scraping through.

Rod Stoner, the impeccable soldier from Basingstoke,

and the only southerner to make it.

Phil Tatum, who couldn't wait to get to the front.

Dean Ward, who took everything they threw at him,

even the jokes about jungle warfare.

Scrumpy Barrett, who once went down with the heat,

but picked up a prize at Brize.

Tony Butler, built like a bison and number one on the machine gun.

Fraser Hooper, who got there slowly but somehow never dropped out.

Mark Hunt, gobby taffy, whose mouth moved even faster than his fists.

Peter O'Hare, who hated heights but almost made champion recruit.

Graham Robertson, the baby of the platoon,

who came straight from school to become the pick of the parachutists.

John Stirling, condemned as a coaster, he somehow rose above it.

Lastly, Andy Cunningham, the lumbering Scot

for whom everything went wrong.

Twice charged with negligent gunfire,

forever charged with unfitness,

his was a triumph of determination over adversity.

Finally, and barely credibly, on passing out he surpassed himself

in a manner which leant new meaning to the old military injunction,

"show a leg."

Turn around so they can all see it.

Come on, turn around so they can all see it.

THEY LAUGH

OK, Cunningham, fall in.

Can you be sure at the end of this course

that you haven't made any mistakes?

Um, I couldn't guarantee it, no.

As far as possible I like to think that

everyone we'll send to battalion straight away

is worthy of going to battalion, is as trained, or as well-trained

as he possibly could be, and he'll come up to expectations of battalion.

You know, I think Cunningham would probably have to work,

you know, 20 years at his fitness.

But, you know, I mean, he's got the determination,

it's there and it's slowly coming.

So we don't knock him.

But you didn't actually rate him at all?

It would have been quite easy to fail him, let's put it that way.

Well, put it this way,

if there hadn't have been another P Company run,

then there would have been a lot fewer on this parade.

But to say that, you know, every single one of the recruits I pass

will fulfil his expectations is perhaps being a bit naive.

I mean, I'd like to think that was the case,

but it's the real world and we're all human

and we even sometimes make mistakes.

Newly-fledged, the platoon took at once to the air,

showing off as Paras must. And as they head from the start,

their families viewed it all with mixed emotions.

Oh, my God!

Mrs Ward, mother of Dean.

Are you happier now about him joining?

Cos you weren't very pleased at the start, were you?

- No, not at all. - Why not?

Well, this Ireland business and that, you know.

But he's told us he's supposed to be going over for a month.

- To Ireland? - Yes.

Just the thing you feared.

Yes, it is.

Did he defy you to join, or did you just advise him?

I said I wouldn't sign the papers for him,

and he said when he's 18 he'll do what he likes,

and that's what he's doing.

Oh, isn't he clever!?

Oh, God, don't you feel awful?

Mr Hunt, father of Mark.

He's not coming, he's chickened out.

This will be the first time in his 19 years he hasn't said anything!

But Mark has wished to prove something

to a brother in the Welsh Guards,

who also, it seemed, had a way with words.

The youngest one said to the eldest one,

"the only two things to come out of the sky

"are bird shit and paratroopers."

Oh, he's down.

Oh, God.

Mrs Birrel, mother of Steven.

- Did you enjoy that? - Oh, I did.

Did you?

I'm glad it's all over now!

You feel better now he's down and all there.

That's the first time you've seen him jump, of course.

Yeah.

Hope I've not spoiled my make-up.

Have you seen any changes since he's been here?

- Oh, yes, I have, a lot of changes. - Tell me about them.

Well, the last visit he's become a lot quieter and he's grown up a lot,

you know, and he just seems to take an interest in more things now.

But this is what he's wanted and I think it'll be a good career for him.

He's got what he wanted, he's worked hard for it.

I feel ten feet tall.

I'm only five foot, but I feel ten feet tall today.

- Thank you. - Thank you.

480 Platoon had been posted to 2 and 3 Para

as replacements for some of the Falklands dead,

but first a final and very different lesson,

a spell with the 1st Battalion in Northern Ireland,

where, over ten years, 39 Paras had also been killed.

But it was goodbye at least to the depot,

and goodbye at last to Sergeant Riley,

who could now start on someone else.

I'm quite pleased, because a lot of them deserved to get through.

There is one or two I've still got my doubts about,

I'm not fully happy about,

but you've got to take into consideration that they're only kids.

I mean, the bulk of them are under 20.

But I think the biggest kick of all comes

when you look at the numbers you've got left from what you started with,

and, well, you know,

if they're worth it then it's all well and good, the hours you put in.

And I think the biggest pat on the back I've ever had

is when the last platoon, one of the fathers came across and says,

you know, "Thanks for making a man out of my son."

Well, if that's what we're doing then you can't ask for any more.