by Jason Fox
Despite the jokey name, the Cigar Moment technique was rooted in physiology. By taking two deep, slow breaths, the body is able to turn on the vagus nerve – a cranial nerve – which controls the body’s response to stress, relaxing the body and slowing the heart rate. This one action enabled an individual to calm down sufficiently before rationalizing what had happened, or was still happening. From there they could decide upon their plan of action and react accordingly. Those moments were important when looking to settle myself and I’d then crack on with whatever it was I had to do. Under the wing of our Hercules, I was able to focus on the mission ahead.
Don’t rush into your own death. It’s an idea I’ve put to a lot of people whenever they ask my advice on how to stay calm during stressful situations. In short: give yourself some room to breathe. An event might be full of emotion, but everybody is in a position to control their reactions to it. Take a home-buying scenario, for example. It might be that an individual is being asked to sign an important document with far-reaching implications for their financial security. If that person feels a little unsure, it’s a smart play to slow down the moment and take two settling breaths before acting positively. If the situation still feels unsettling, it’s a suitable point to hold fire and check that all the angles have been covered. The individual can say, ‘Wait, let me go through this again because something doesn’t feel right …’
When resilience is called for, the Cigar Moment delivers the right amount of breathing room, especially when time might be in short supply. And if it can work in a gunfight or a near-miss plane crash, it can work just about anywhere.
PHASE TEN
When the Battle’s Done
No matter the challenges facing us, it’s easy to imagine we’ll emerge only as winners or losers, with nothing in between; the event will either overwhelm us or strengthen our self-belief. But as in war, life isn’t defined solely in black and white, and the boundaries between victory and defeat can sometimes be blurred. Sure, our successes have the potential to embolden us, but they can cause us problems down the line, too. Meanwhile, all our failures have the potential to be transformative; after a period of reflection, they can turn us into forces to be reckoned with.
As a football fan, I see it all the time. Liverpool and Manchester City were the top two teams in the country for a couple of years. In 2018–19 City won the title but, weirdly, Liverpool’s defining moment seemed to happen after they’d finished second that same year. Though they won the Champions League, losing out to Manchester City gave them the fire to push harder the following season. Meanwhile, City, having won the Premier League, then seemed to fall short during the next campaign. Liverpool were by far the better team and finished top of the table.
In the military, it’s easy to fall into those same traps. After a tactical victory or a successful raid, it is a very human reaction to relax. But, unlike football, there are no pre-season or half-time breaks in war and all operators have to remain constantly alert. Meanwhile, following a defeat, it’s natural to feel overwhelmed or disheartened but, as Liverpool proved, if a team or individual can draw lessons from their failures it’s possible to bounce back stronger than ever before.
MAXIMIZE THE WINS, MINIMIZE THE LOSSES
There was no room to rest in the immediate hours after an operation or gunfight. It was during that time that an operator’s recall was at its strongest and every step of what had happened during a mission – good and bad – could be detailed with clarity. As soon as we’d stepped off a chopper or walked on to the base, my squadron would be called into a debrief meeting in order to run over our successes and failures; it was a learning process. I’ve run through the finer details of a gun battle in some pretty strange places: dried-out riverbeds in the middle of the night; aircraft hangars at the crack of dawn; I’ve even shivered through a debrief in an abandoned city-centre building following a counterterrorism training operation.
The locations were irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was our recollection of events and the lessons that could be drawn from our wins and losses. No detail was left out; minor intelligence sometimes proved valuable later on, where the smallest snippets of information had the potential to lead us into tactically valuable conclusions or a breakthrough. The trick, as with observation posts, was to record everything that had happened on the ground without speculation or judgement. Our squadron was then able to create a vivid picture of an operation, an enemy, or our own practices. Everybody’s voice in the team was considered equal, to ensure that no detail was left out during debrief sessions.
One of the many things I loved about working as an elite military operator was the lack of hierarchy. Yes, there was a chain of authority, as there had to be in any important organization, but the traditional order of command was looser than in other sections of the military. There were senior officers running the squadrons and, within that larger group, team leaders attached to the smaller units, but generally the lads were considered to be on fairly equal terms. This was particularly important in planning sessions and debriefs. It was understood that any individual might contribute a game-changing piece of information regardless of rank and experience, and everyone was encouraged to add their observations.
Meanwhile, the overall results of our missions were irrelevant to how we approached debriefs: meetings were equally detailed for losses as they were for victories; sometimes the hardest lessons were learned during a successful job rather than one that had been executed poorly. I was involved in a number of tactically effective operations that then fell apart because a unit had taken their foot off the pedal during the buzz of victory. Their overconfidence led to chaos. Rather than letting defeated hostiles flee the scene, operators gave chase and were injured as a result. Door Kickers smashed through an extra compound to grab more ammo or prisoners, only to face violent resistance that pushed them back. At times, those decisions led to unnecessary casualties within the squadron, which then impacted the group later on in the tour. Injured operators were useless assets but were rarely replaced with incoming support. Without their assistance our workload increased, and that was particularly challenging on tours where missions took place on a nightly basis. In the debriefs afterwards it was usually stated clearly that any acts of over confidence shouldn’t be repeated.
Lesson-learning was equally valuable on botched jobs, or operations where events beyond our control had overtaken us. Sometimes we were overwhelmed by a burst of unexpected resistance when landing on an enemy target; our intelligence had been a little off and a larger enemy force had arrived to defend the location. In those cases we made sure to withdraw quickly, preserving our resources for a later date rather than rushing into battle, but we would always make the most of our predicament. Observations would be made on how the enemy had set up their defence systems; we’d take note of the type of weaponry they were using and how it was being utilized around their position. Were they aggressive or defensive? Did they tend to retreat under a prolonged show of force? The process was referred to as a Sensitive Site Exploitation, or SSE. Sometimes deliberately poking the hornets’ nest to watch their reaction was a smart tactic.
An SSE was also a useful process to employ if a target had moved away from their reported location. Every now and then we’d receive intel that a person of interest had taken up position in a certain town or compound. Having been given the orders to swoop in to make a hard arrest, we’d kick in a few doors only to discover that the target had moved on. Our intel might have been out of date, or plain wrong, but often high-level hostiles moved from location to location in order to avoid exactly that type of capture. However, whenever our plans were upended, we didn’t sulk, and we’d never return to base with our tails between our legs. Each unsuccessful job was an opportunity to learn, an opportunity to refine our skills and tactics. We could review any gathered intelligence and work on being more effective next time.
The overall debrief process was very clinical: we only dealt in facts. It didn’t mat
ter if one of the lads had been killed on the job, for example. Or if we’d rescued a hostage whose capture was being reported all over the world, or taken out an internationally notorious terrorist figure. The size of the victory, or any losses we might have experienced, was irrelevant. Instead, we covered off the mission step by step, with as much factual detail as possible, without speculation, recalling what had taken place and what we’d seen. Maps and aerial intelligence were used to illustrate the results of a mission in a three-step process:
Step One: The Officer Commanding described the mission as he’d seen it unfolding.
Step Two: The Sergeant Major then did the same, before drawing information from the units on the ground.
Step Three: The team leaders from each unit detailed the events as they’d experienced them. We went into the room we were assigned. We killed three enemy fighters in there … Any other information was irrelevant. We only focused on the task at hand and dissected our actions to learn, improve and become better.
Once a team leader had finished recounting the mission from his perspective, the remainder of each unit was then called upon to add any details that might have been missed. Often, in the chaos of a battle it was easy to lose sight of the smaller events, but once everything had been put together we were able to build a detailed, 360-degree picture of what had taken place. Throughout, we noted the areas where improvement was a necessity. We checked the practices that had worked effectively under the circumstances and took into account Any Other Bollocks that might require assessment.
This process was painstaking, time-consuming and exhausting, but overall these debriefs were considered an invaluable resource when making us a more resilient military asset. Once the meeting concluded, a squadron clerk was tasked with typing up the relevant intelligence and the document was then distributed to any parties in need of the information. Valuable intelligence was shared with our allies, so everybody involved in a military situation could learn from our mistakes and tactical gains. That information was also fed into the British military’s training schedule, if necessary. (Such as an enemy force implementing unexpected tactical approaches when defending their compounds.) New squadrons rotating into the conflict were trained up in managing techniques and procedures based on what we’d learned; old practices were phased out if they’d become outdated or irrelevant.
Every scrap of information gathered was analysed in order to help us adapt and improve against a highly motivated and dangerous enemy who were as obsessed with evolving as we were. The forces we were scrapping against were forever watching how the British military operated in order to get a better handle on how to expose us.
It’s not only the competing sides in a war that can use these processes to increase their resilience, however. The debrief process used by the military elite is applicable to any setting where a team or individual requires mental and physical grit. Consider the following examples:
#1 Midway through running the London Marathon, you experience a series of excruciating cramps that puts you out of the race. Rather than walking off the course in a strop, work through an SSE-style assessment. How many miles did you manage before failure? Could the pain have been run off, or was it definitely a race-ender? Detail what you ate before and during the race. You should also note the stretches and preparation exercises during your build-up and list which areas of the body were affected by cramping before checking in with a physiotherapist or trainer as soon as possible afterwards. All of this intel helps to build a bigger picture of why you crashed. More importantly, it delivers the necessary details on how you can improve next time round.
#2 Having slogged your way through a business-pitch project for a number of weeks, maybe months, you and your team are on the verge of signing a lucrative contract. Rather than sitting back and enjoying the moment, take the required precautionary steps. Is your team still on high alert, or have they relaxed? Has every detail been squared away with your new partners? Is there anything you can do to prepare yourself for a nasty surprise or two? (Usually, vigilance is enough to avoid those last-minute screw-ups.) Later, with the contract nailed, run through a team debrief. Highlight the areas in which you and your colleagues performed well. Look at any examples of poor practice or close calls with failure. Then figure out how they might be avoided next time. Finally, how effective were your systems and processes? Run through the relevant working areas – communication, presentation, technology etc. – and assess whether they’re still working for you. All of this information should be collated and fed back to the team for reference during the next pitch.
#3 You seem unable to smash through your fitness goals. Maybe injuries keep holding you back. Perhaps it’s hard to find the motivation required to succeed. It might be your nutrition is all over the place and you’re turning into a bag of shit. Either way, failure feels inevitable and emotionally you’re getting bashed up. It’s time to make a change by running a debrief on your poor practices. First up, check in with your purpose. What made you want to start this challenge in the first place? Remind yourself of where you were on day one. Recall those days where you struggled to make it to the gym. Then run through the days where training seemed to happen easily. What differences did you notice in your routine, preparation, diet and attitude? Using all the intel available, build a 360-degree perspective on how you succeeded and where you failed. Work towards replicating the positive days and eliminating the negative factors holding you back. With a little work on the small details, you’ll soon notice some big improvements.
Two rules:
1) Don’t rest in the aftermath of success.
2) Never ignore the lessons delivered by failure.
Learn. Then reset and go again.
THE POWER OF REST AND RESETTING
Following my final, fateful military tour in 2011, our squadron was offered the chance to fly home via Cyprus for a few days of rest and recuperation. The idea was that we could sit in the sun, smash through the beers and put our feet up in a holiday resort as a reward for our hard work. The senior officers reckoned a little resetting time abroad might help us to blow off steam before we returned home to our loved ones and the normality of domestic life. Nobody was interested. The general view was that it seemed like a waste of time.
Fuck that, I thought. I want to get home.
But once I’d returned home to Poole, life with my family and friends felt weird. I became detached. I couldn’t get my head around the slower rhythms of life and I had too much time to pore over some of the awful stuff I’d experienced in war. Hindsight’s always 20/20 but, fuck me, I wish I’d taken that holiday.
The reasoning behind the idea for a quick break had been sound. I’ve since learned of a somewhat infamous urban myth from the Falkland Islands after the conflict with Argentina in the early 1980s. With the war done, the British military moved their forces home. A large number of lads travelled back by boat, which took them towards ports situated in the north of England. The trip across the Atlantic lasted for a couple of weeks and, with plenty of beer on board and a reduced level of discipline, the scene turned fairly lawless. People were passing out with the booze. Brawls kicked off all over the place. But by the time Britain was in sight, everybody had exorcised a lot of their demons. The stresses of war had been worked through.
I’ve sometimes wondered what would have happened to me had I popped over to Cyprus instead of heading straight home. (Hopefully, I wouldn’t have got myself into too many punch-ups.) A tired mind is a weakened mind, so rest and recovery was vital when preparing for emotional chaos. Working as an operator often meant I received little of either, given that I served on a succession of tours in horrible war zones for up to six months at a time. There was a break of only a few months between each tour and then I was thrust into the action again. At the time, I loved it, and I actually found life outside combat more confusing than war itself. At least in war, the rules of engagement were clear, defined in black and white, but time back in the UK was too hectic. I�
��d come off tour and roll straight into training, exercises and last-minute tasks. The frantic pace of life was unsustainable.
Such a frenetic schedule soon took its toll. I was doing too many tours with not enough time off in between. By the time I left the military, in 2012, I was rinsed. Burned out by a lifestyle of high stress, intense physical activity and sporadic outbreaks of controlled violence, I became detached from the people around me, depressed and suicidal. I had no way of knowing how emotionally damaged I’d become because I was rarely given enough time to reset. After war operations, I’d usually have a few hours of restless sleep before cracking on with some intelligence work for the missions ahead. In order to stay physically sharp, there were gym sessions every day; at night we’d usually get in the choppers and work on Door-Kicking raids or counterterrorism jobs. The load was exhausting.
Having come through the other side, I’ve learned about the importance of rest and resetting. These days, I use moments of peace and quiet to my advantage – I’ll treat them as another form of admin, preparation for a period of intense physical or mental work to come. For example, if ever I’m about to speak in front of a conference room full of business people, I’ll prepare quietly in a room, alone with my headphones. I’ll walk about while getting my mindset right. Once the work is done, I’ll enjoy some more alone time in the car, listening to the radio or a podcast. It helps to bring me down a little.
During periods of high-stress work, even the shortest moments of rest have been invaluable. While making Meet the Drug Lords: Inside the Real Narcos I’d often round off the day by sitting on the rooftop of our hotel, wherever we were, for a beer with my work partner, Aldo. Together we’d end up running through the events of the previous twenty-four hours, laughing at how we’d somehow managed to get through another cartel meet-and-greet without copping an assassin’s bullet to the head. Spending downtime with a mate in a safe environment helped me to reset and process everything that had happened. The routine also gave me something to look forward to when events had taken a scary turn, and I used the thought of an end-of-day bevvy as an incentive to distract me from whatever fear or stress I might have been experiencing at the time.
