Warrior Training by Keith Fennell Page A

other battalions, especially the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Battalions, were already tight.
    Still feeling fatigued, I decided to walk to the beach to check out the ocean. I love the water and usually feel a sense of calm when in its presence. It was a cold, wintry day, and a strong southerly wind was sweeping up the coast. Campbell Barracks backs onto the Indian Ocean, a pristine and much sought-after location in the heart of Perth’s ‘golden triangle’. From the back gate of the barracks I followed an obvious sand track to a sentry tower that overlooked the beach. I climbed the tower, and while I was there an effeminate Asian man joined me. I thought this was a little weird, so I left.
    I tucked myself into the northern side of a sand dune and watched the choppy waves slap against the sand while I drifted in and out of sleep. Fifteen minutes later, I opened my eyes and saw a man walking across the beach in front of me. He was staring at me intently. After a while he retraced his footsteps, walked around the sand dune I was sheltering behind and positioned himself 10 metres behind me. I immediately sat up and my body prepared itself for battle. Surely this fucker isn’t going to try and mug me , I thought. Does he seriously want to have a go?
    I casually glanced over my right shoulder and eyeballed the man. With a furrowed brow, I turned my head back, stared at the sand in front of me and tried to work out if what I had just seen was real. Did he just have his cock in his hand? I looked at the man again, and this time there was no mistake – he was stroking his erect penis while staring at me.
    â€˜What in the hell are you doing?’ I yelled.
    The man, aged in his mid to late thirties, didn’t say a word but tried to bend his cock back into his tracksuit pants. I stood up. He began to panic, trying to decide whether he should run or remain where he was.
    I shouted: ‘Are you fucking serious?’ and kicked some sand towards him. Before me was a man who was uncomfortable with confrontation. He rolled onto his side and crumpled onto the sand.
    I had no intention of taking it any further. I stormed up the beach and didn’t look back. I told a few of the guys what had happened, and for a short time I was nicknamed ‘Dune Boy’. It was then I learnt that Swanbourne Beach was a hangout for gay men. I should have realised that when the other guy had joined me in the sentry tower.
    My issue was not that the man was homosexual – people’s sexual preference has never bothered me. He has as much control over choosing his sexuality as I do: none. But I found his actions confronting as they caught me off guard. It was the same as if a heterosexual male had been tossing off while looking at a woman on a beach.
    In fact, the first guy I told was homosexual. He had also passed the selection course and would become a close mate of mine. When he saw my reaction, he told me much later, his initial thoughts were: Great, Fenno’s homophobic. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to be honest with this guy .
    He was wrong. I found out about his sexual preference two years before he came out publicly, and I kept it a close secret. I always considered him to be an exceptional soldier and often commented to my wife that he was one of the most grounded and mentally secure soldiers I knew.
    Some people have a perception – created by the aggressive nature of SAS training and operations – that all SAS soldiers are Alpha males. But it’s only partly true. Most of the guys are complex individuals, and are far more open-minded about things that fall outside the ‘norms of society’ than most people expect. When bullets are slamming into the earth around you – when things become a little crazy – there are no thoughts or concerns about anyone’s sexuality. Why should there be? All you give a fuck about is whether the guy next to you is competent, and whether he’ll