Before this four-part series of my self-serving ramblings comes to an end I best talk about how I lost the bottom of my leg.

Back in 1999, I was part of the Fleet Air Arms Command Field Gun
Crew. Now for those of you not up to date with obscure Royal Navy
sports, such as uckers, deck hockey and bucket ball, the Royal Navy’s
interservice command field gun competition was by far the most
prestigious to compete in.

The competition is a race between the different parts of the Royal Navy to pull a 19th-century cannon and its ammunition limber with a combined weight of one and a half tons, over a series of obstacles, made up of home and enemy walls, ramps and a 28-foot-wide bottomless chasm.

Everything is heavy, everything moves fast, and everything has the
potential to cause severe injury.

It’s not for nothing that it was the world’s toughest team sport.
Each crew (team) is made of 18 men. Who will have firstly volunteered to compete, secondly have passed a series of physical trials, called eliminations over the previous 12 months and thirdly being selected by the training staff.

The men that get through selection are strong, fast, professional, highly disciplined and willing to be hurt. Every man has a complete and utter desire to win. To quote the American football coach Red Sanders, “winning isn’t the only thing. It’s everything”. This mentality is born out by the fact the other teams are referred to as the enemy and while the winning crew collects the silverware the team in second place throws their 2nd place medals into the crowd.

Each crew trains meticulously, 6 days a week for several months. The
days are long, and the training is punishing. The training staff demanded perfection in every facet of the race, from the maintenance and presentation of kit and equipment to every individual movement of the drill required to manoeuvre the cannon over the course. Now perfection is impossible but with enough effort, we can achieve excellence.

Without going into too much detail during a practise run we had set a personal best time for the first part of the race. Everyone wanted to
repeat that on the two remaining race sections and finish the day on a high.

It was while trying to shave precious seconds off our time that 900lbs of gun barrel fell from approximately 7’ and landed on top of my foot. It was a case of the wrong place at the wrong time.

What followed was 3 months in hospital, an MRSA infection, 24
surgeries to try and salvage my foot and finally a sepsis infection that led a surgeon giving me 2 hours to live unless I had an amputation.

At one point in the hospital, a naval surgeon commander told me that I would be discharged as not fit to continue in the Navy.

Now some part of me took umbrage to that. I was a command gunner. My chosen sport is throwing cannons about. You don’t get to tell me what I am capable of.

So I got to work.

It took the assistance of a lot of fine people for me to achieve my goal. Sometimes it felt like I was fighting the Royal Navy as an organisation. But just at the right time, an individual would step forward to help me. They would take a risk on me, bend a rule or put themselves in the line of fire just to help me progress.

It took me a year to be allowed to remain in the RN. It took a further nine years (seven of which had to be cancer-free after being diagnosed with cancer in 2001) to be allowed to return to overseas duties, where again I owe people thanks. Without their help, I would not have been one of a very few amputees are allowed to serve in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Before leaving the Navy in 2019. I had represented the RN in two sports, one being indoor rowing. I represented the UK armed forces at the Invictus Games won 2 world championships, competed at the
Commonwealth Games and set multiple world records. None of that
makes me as proud as being a field gunner.

I guess like the Marines or paras with their green and maroon berets, or even being an Olympian it’s a defining part of my life.

It's now a quarter of a century after my amputation and when required I can tap into the discipline and attention to detail required and willingness to hurt myself to be the best I can be.

However, winning now is no longer about treating the opposition as an enemy to be defeated, and I no longer agree with Red Sanders that winning is the only thing. Being the best I can be is what I want now.

And if I can’t be the best version of myself today, then I can always try again tomorrow.