Last night, at a secret location in the East End, Andy McNab addressed the London branch of the Royal Green Jackets Association, the body representing former members of the Rifles Regiment. McNab, a decorated Rifleman before he entered SAS folklore on the botched Bravo Two Zero mission, was drumming up support at a private bash for Care for Casualties, the regiment’s appeal to care for the families of its wounded and dead.
The building was packed and donations flowed as if these were times of plenty. Care for Casualties has raised more than £1.5 million in the last two years. Such generosity is necessary. Since the regiment was re-formed in 2007, 61 Riflemen have been killed in action, leaving more than 40 wives or long-term girlfriends and 31 dependent children. In that same period, 314 men have been seriously wounded and further 40 to 50 display the onset of post-traumatic stress syndrome. The donations support the families of the dead and permanently incapacitated, and allow those wounded to rebuild their lives. It is an extraordinary testament to the bond between comrades and the profound sense of duty among servicemen, even as these ageing men necked lager and traded insults.
McNab spoke about his latest book, Dead Centre, which is based on his experience extracting kidnap hostages from Somalia. I spoke to him before he went on stage and, having got over the shock of how diminutive this macho legend actually is, asked him when he first found the impulse to write.
‘From my time in the army,’ he replied. McNab joined the army aged 16 with a reading age of 11 and what teachers once described as an ‘unsteady hand’. The military educated him, as it does countless others. ‘Education is a central part of army life; it gives a second chance for bright people who were failed by the state system.’
McNab explained how teenage infantry recruits are sent to Catterick for basic training, where they take written exams in maths and English comprehension. Recruits who fail that test are then sent to Dartmouth for intensive remedial education courses, which they must pass to become professional soldiers. Education continues throughout an army career, and promotion is dependent on further
educational attainment. ‘You can be the best infantryman in the world,’ he says, ‘but if you don’t succeed in the classroom you don’t advance [up the ranks].’
McNab recalls having compulsory lessons once or twice a week, a practice that continues to this day. What begins as basic comprehension exercises become detailed programmes in improving sentence structure, paragraphing, mental arithmetic and so forth. These skills are vital both to soldiers fighting sophisticated wars and to old soldiers seeking employment outside the forces. The Royal
British Legion funds training grants for veterans, while the MoD subsidises active servicemen all the way to post-graduate level. McNab took advantage of many of these courses, and admits that he and many of his contemporaries came to view the army as a route to self-betterment, or rather a source of further education.
His passion for learning did not dim on Civvy Street. He is wildly enthusiastic about new media and digital publishing, believing it will transform the personal development of deprived children. ‘The Internet and e-books are a massive source of moving information and it begs children to engage and explore.’ McNab is honest about his books’ literary credentials, but he insists that ‘anything that gets people reading’ is inherently good. This is because the habit of reading breeds the habit of inquiry. McNab, who can amiably bore for Britain about the possibilities of technology and social mobility, embodies that belief.
The government is encouraging retired servicemen to become teachers. McNab’s concern about his identity, not to mention the strange allure of Mogadishu, precludes him from such a career move. But there were ranks of others like him present last night who could express the value of education to those who need it most; although their attitude to boozing on a school night might have to change.
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