Knife Edge: Life as a Special Forces Surgeon by Richard Villar Page B

was obviously the chosen one. With a loud ‘Baaa!’ it charged, going full tilt. I could not stop it and was knocked flat, winded for the umpteenth time that year. My companion could not restrain himself and rolled around in uncontrollable mirth for ages. We decided at that stage a diet of seagulls’ eggs, limpets and dead cormorants was a safer, wiser choice.
    The doctor was a problem. A charming man, he was qualified, unlike me at that point, and tried to apply logic and common sense to the situation. Sometimes it does not pay to think too much about the merits and disadvantages of SAS service. Sitting in the cave, tending the fire, he claimed searching for food used up more calories than were actually found. There was therefore no point, he argued, in looking for food at all. You would die quicker if you looked for it than if you sat and did nothing all day. He had a point, though none of us wanted to admit it. Sit he did, helping himself to the food the rest of us brought in. If you had spent eight hours bringing in a dozen limpets, two dandelion leaves and a cormorant’s egg, only to have them eaten by someone else, I assure you it would drive you over the edge. I nearly cracked. Likewise the policeman. To this day I do not know if the doctor was right in his analysis.
    In this vegetarian era, shops are full of books on what can be eaten from the land. Buried at the bottom of my Bergen was a copy of Richard Mabey’s Food For Free, but the rucksack had long ago been confiscated. When that happens, you have to experiment. As I found to my cost, overconfidence does not pay. When faced with an unfamiliar food, you should first place it in the space between your lower lip and teeth. Keep it there for at least a minute. If it tastes reasonable then swallow a very small amount. Wait and see what happens. If you are still alive five minutes later, then swallow the lot.
    Bored with our now established diet, I felt it was time for a change so went searching beside the small freshwater lake our island haven supplied. To one end of the water were some light green, rushlike plants. I have no idea what they were. By then I had already found several dozen new ideas to take back to my companions. None of my earlier finds had been any trouble, so I took a large handful of light green plant and ate everything. I would have done credit to a cow. For a brief moment all was fine, but then the agony hit me. A furious, sharp, searing pain shot down my gullet. I could hardly breathe. I broke into a ferocious sweat and then the most intense stomach cramps overwhelmed me. I retched and vomited everywhere. Nature has a strange way of protecting us and vomiting is an excellent method of eliminating poison. I had broken the rules and had paid for it. I do not know what it was I ate. However, if you are tempted to live off the land, do avoid those tall, thin, rush-like things at the end of a freshwater lake. They will make you sick.
    It is all very well finding food, but your catch has to be cooked. The books say you should find a metal container washed up on the beach and use that. Something akin to an old oil drum would do, once suitably cleaned. Real life is not so helpful. Have you ever tried to find a metal container on a beach these days? Everything is plastic and plastic melts when you heat it. We were saved by the policeman. Somehow he had managed to smuggle past our captors a complete mess tin and a packet of rice. I have no idea how he did it and he was not letting on. For sure these are not items that would fit easily into a cigar tube.
    We made it in the end, a week later, somewhat lighter and significantly unkempt. The SBS did send out helicopters to look for us while we tried to survive. They are another factor you can do without. The secret is not to look up when one flies over you. They make a loud noise and should give you reasonable warning to lie face down, camouflaged against Mother Earth. Its pilot, navigator or loadmaster