This is a series, please read part one and part two.

The night was cold.

The howling wind was the only sound that could be heard for miles. Unfriendly as always, the barren tundra was covered in greenish slimy moss and high Antarctic hair grass. For once, however, the unforgiving environment of the south Atlantic was to the advantage of the SAS troopers.

The blizzards and treacherous glaciers of South Georgia were still fresh in the minds of the eight-man patrol, when they stealthily made their way from the drop-off point towards their target. It was the night of 11/12 May.