Knife Edge: Life as a Special Forces Surgeon (45 page)

Whatever the emotions, or personal promises, reality always returns - in my case with a flash. It was as I opened the front door of my home that I heard the telephone ringing.

‘Yep? What is it?’ I panted, out of breath in my haste to answer, indicating uselessly to my family they should keep silent.

‘Mr Villar? Is that you? Mr Villar?’ came the earnest female reply.

‘That’s me.’

‘Mr Villar. Thank Heavens we’ve got hold of you. I’ve been telephoning for days. It’s the World Rescue Foundation. We’ve a spot of trouble with war-wounded in Sri Lanka.’ Her voice prattled on, a mixture of monotone and enthusiasm, as she described the horrors of the Jaffna Peninsula. The children, the mines, amputations, torture, the inhumanity of mankind.

A strange feeling came over me while I listened. I knew that sensation so well. I had lost count how many times I had felt it before. It was that tiny voice again.

‘Keep quiet!’ I said forcibly to myself, looking towards Louise. I had made my resolution. England, family, it had to be. I had done my bit for warring society. I had risked myself enough. Then the little beast took over. It always does. Say ‘Yes!’ it cried. What the hell, I submitted, I have never been good at resolutions anyway. Sri Lanka? Maybe just this once.

SAS Selection - sometimes you just walk too far.

Mount McKinley’s West Buttress - I am at 5000 metres and climbing.

Treating a goat in the Middle East. The poor animal died shortly after this photograph was taken.

Examining a Bedouin’s mouth with an improvised light source. It was impossible to avoid dribbling down the torch into the patient.

The holding area for our highly secret operation during the Falklands War. I lay in this tent for seventeen days, convinced I would die.

Hard at work cooking an inedible meal at Everest’s Roadhead Camp.

Everest’s major-wobbler kit. Something for every emergency.

Everest’s North Face. All I see is Tony when I look at this view.

Pushed for bed space in the Third World - sometimes you just have to share. Two small children recover from their broken legs.

Hundreds queue to see me in central India. Each case more insoluble than the one before.

You’ll have your work cut out to straighten this one. Gross bowing of the shin-bone present since birth.