Mud, Sweat and Tears

I am currently rereading Bear Grylls autobiography - Mud, Sweat and Tears, which is a personal account of the real-life GI Joe's life adventures thus far.  While Grylls honourably discharged himself from the British Special Forces in his early twenties due to injury, he delayed his autobiographical career until he had achieved quite a few more amazing feats.

Which is preferable to many of the celebrity autobiographies we are subjected to these days, written by some journalist who is trying to make a name for themselves in the publishing industry and thinks ghost writing the life story of a boring model / actor / tree humanitarian who starred in a kid’s game show that was axed after two shows and then got their big break on Neighbours is the best way to go.

As it turns out, Grylls had already penned eleven books, and has thrived in achieving numerous completely insane feats that defy human ability, so kudos to the big fella.

Mud, Sweat and Tears describes the gruelling training Grylls underwent to be chosen for the British SAS. He leaves no stone unturned, give or take some names, details, places and SAS operational procedures that cannot be released for security reasons.

I can't think of a better word to describe the selection process than gruelling, although this term doesn't even come close to a fair and appropriate account of the intensity of the program.

I love the positive messages that are ingrained in military training; camaraderie, skill, humility, endurance and character. Technically parents should be ingraining these messages into their kids, but what do I know.  I guess many parents didn't get the memo, or maybe it's just the places I frequent that are replete with bastard children causing all manner of chaos.

Special Forces are renown for their ruthless efficiency and professionalism, and anyone wanting to join them has to be mentally and physically unflappable and resilient, as the selection process ensures that only the soldiers with a lotta ticker make the cut.

These soldiers are deployed to locations and situations that the rest of us don't even want to imagine. And they somehow endure it, because they have evidently been exposed to awful, worst case scenarios in the selection process and training procedures, which makes the stories in Australia's military history of inexperienced kids heading off to war all the more heart-breaking.  My dad went to war when he was too young. They were all far too young backin the day. But it is what it is.

A few years ago through my family history I found out about 21-year-old Alfred Ernest Tarrant, who was sent to Gallipoli.  He wasn't a soldier, he was a school teacher.  None of them were soldiers; they were just young men.

Tarrant's 12th Battalion was part of a landing party that arrived at Anzac Cove at 04:30 on 25 April 1915.  He survived. His Battalion fought in the bloody Battle of Lone Pine in August and Tarrant was killed in action at Shrapnel Gulley on 11 November 1915, just weeks before the Anzacs were evacuated. He is buried in the Shell Green Cemetery in Gallipoli, Turkey. 

I write of this because it’s ANZAC Day, and it’s important to be thinking about and commerating and never forgetting all those men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice for us.  We all try to understand what those kids who went to war experienced, and what all the men and women who go to war endure; but we’ll never understand. What we can do is never forget it.