From the Back Cover
Before joining the Army, Jack Williams tried his hand as an engineering apprentice, telephone installer, investment trust salesman, lorry driver and taxi company owner. During his 22 years service, he travelled extensively, volunteered for anything that sounded exciting. Consequently he parachuted, rock climbed and rigged communications to masts all over the World as described in this book.
Since leaving the Army, he has witnessed the highs and lows of civilian life from being homeless and broke to now running a successful training consultancy and living in his own house. Happily married to his second wife, The Rigger represents his first step on the road to becoming a full time writer.
About the Author
Jack Williams was a serving soldier for a full career. He spent ten years seconded to the SAS and other Special forces serving principally in Northern Ireland. He is now a successful management trainer.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
A concrete bunker deep in bandit country that is surrounded by a wire mesh fence and claymore mines. There is a mast next to the bunker and the only way in or out of this location is by chopper.
Excerpt from the book:
They stood by their slits. Switched on their night scopes. Scanned and adjusted. I waited until they came fully alive, then fastened on my belt.
It had turned into a clear night. Might as well have been daytime it was so light. The moon was like a giant searchlight beaming down. It revealed every detail in perfect clarity. Trees loomed on the surrounding hills beyond the fence. Bramble bushes could be seen distinctly at two hundred metres. The parts of the concrete bunker not covered by earth seemed to act like giant mirrors, and reflected the moon s rays everywhere. There was no hiding, and no turning back. The area was alive with animals scurrying and rustling in the undergrowth, calling to each other. If it s going to happen, it s going to happen. I d often thought about taking a weapon up with me. I d been through this many times. Each time realizing that the only thing I d want to do if shot at would be to run down. I wouldn t be able to see where the shot came from, and the weapon would get in the way, on my mad rush down.
Gone were the days of jangling spanners and antennae banging on the mast. My rigging techniques were honed and perfected. No more shaking hands. No more trembling knees. No more breathlessness. Every move and ounce of energy spent were deliberate, and directed.
The wildlife sensed the tension in me. Went quiet. Waited.
