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and submachine guns as a deterrent to acts of aggression.
    Our team, Zulu One (Z1), was the lead water troop assault team. In a counter-terrorism assault, we would secure those areas most likely to be housing the command element of a terrorist group. Team members of Zulu Three (Z3), on the other hand, would more often than not find themselves allocated to an area of lower priority, which could include the toilets. While this was just the luck of the draw and in no wayreflected our relative abilities, it was always a source of considerable ribbing.
    We donned our equipment. There would be two initial sorties to deliver the raiding party. Our first concern was that the rough seas would prevent the helicopters from taking off, since a roll of more than 30 degrees was considered too dangerous for rotary-wing-assisted operations. We were fortunate that it wasn’t raining – in the freezing air, raindrops would turn into tiny shards of glassy ice, which would also have grounded the helicopters.
    Z1 was split into two assault teams and augmented with a contingent of navy clearance divers. For us, this was not ideal, but the navy was also keen to gain experience. The first assault team boarded a helicopter that was still strapped to the rear of the HMAS Newcastle . With the team aboard, the straps were removed and the bird gingerly lifted off the rolling deck. Watching these pilots in action was truly impressive. Their skilful manoeuvring when taking off from the tight, rolling confines of the frigate’s deck was awesome. The bird thumped towards the fishing vessel, the thin, harsh air stinging the men’s semi-protected faces.
    When the helicopter reached the vessel, Buzz was the first man down the rope. His feet had barely touched the ground when he began running towards the bridge, his submachine gun held directly out to his front. His aim was to prevent the crew from throwing any documentary evidence overboard. The remaining team members were not far behind.
    With the first team safely aboard it was time for the bird to pick up the second sortie of eagerly waiting men, myself included. The bird had barely touched the deck when we were loaded and ready to go. It was my turn at last.
    In the distance, a speck of dark colour bobbed in and out of view, sometimes hidden by the enormous swell. It was a desolate image, a tiny shape surrounded by the grey and angry sea. As we edged closer it became clearer. The Japanese-constructed fishing boat appeared to be handling the conditions remarkably well. We approached it from the rear, the helicopter ducking and weaving to get within boarding distance, and the heavy winds muffling the roar of the rotors.
    Although we were excited, we knew that an operator must keep his exuberance in check. We were like children who were given a shot of red cordial but were expected to refrain from running amok. To think clearly, one must remain calm, no matter how much adrenaline is running through your veins.
    If the fast rope was not properly on the deck of the target vessel before we took the plunge, the consequences could be dire. Sliding into the icy waters could well prove fatal. The rope was kicked out of the aircraft and landed in a large exhaust stack. I looked at the naval safety officer and decided to go anyway. As far as I was concerned, the party had already started. Now was not the time to procrastinate over a melting rope. I slid down it and straddled the stack, avoiding its hot black fumes. Kicking off the side, I dragged the rope with me before landing on the deck. The remaining team members were quickly on deck and, after touching base with Buzz, the clearance began.
    We worked in pairs during the assault. Each team wove its way through the accommodation areas, locating crew-members – there were 43. A comprehensive search of the vessel also took place. The boat’s crew came from a mixture of African and South American countries, and they were distinctly unhappy to see