Nothing reminds you of your mortality like a 5.56 mm (millimetre) bullet whizzing past your head, one Bermuda Regiment soldier joked after completing a massive training exercise with the British Army in Morocco recently.

Four Bermuda Regiment soldiers were selected from a pool of 18 volunteers to take part in a three-and-a-half week training operation with the Royal Gibraltar Regiment called Jebel Sahara _ a physically demanding desert training exercise in the Sahara desert in North Africa.

Colour Sergeant Gavin Lee led a Bermudian contingent to Gibraltar made up of Colour Sergeant Sean Simons, Lance Corporal Wayne Smith and Private Jarion Richardson on September 17.

Here in the first part of a two-part series, Private Richardson, a reporter at The Royal Gazette, recounts the experience.

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In the shadow of the American disaster that saw military readiness step up over the globe, four Bermudians arrived in Gibraltar as security at the home of the Royal Gibraltar Regiment Devil's Camp Tower (DCT) was stepped up.

Although Gibraltar was not seen as a high priority terrorist target, officers said the peninsula, lovingly referred to as the Rock, was an exposed target.

DCT sat at the foot of the Rock of Gibraltar, which dominated the area and could be seen from Africa on a clear day.

As other British units, closer to the attacks, began a series of readiness and training exercises, G Company from the Royal Gibraltar Regiment began a training package for the 2nd Brigade d'Infantry Parachutist of the Moroccan Army.

We went through kit issue at the base Quartermaster and were dispatched to enjoy themselves for two days and nights on the town.

It did not take the Bermudian soldiers long to find Casemates Square, the social centre of the city.

It was a welcome break after three of the four had just come off of a week-long embodiment in the face of the last hurricane threat and the terrorist attack.

I remember walking up and down Front Street during Harbour Night, only having just left camp a few days earlier when a hurricane threatened the Island.

After the break, we were dispersed to various subunits within G Company.

Colour Sgt. Lee was part of the PRT, or Range Staff, who constructed and operated everything from the anti-tank missile range to the live fire section advance to contact range.

The ranges were under the overall command of the British Army's Small Arms School, who will be coming to Bermuda to teach senior NCOs how to plan, construct and operate vast military ranges in March, 2002.

Colour Sgt. Simons was dispatched to the Sniper training team, a very small elite group of men who were trained in the art of selective targeting at great distances.

The group of 13 snipers-in-training spent enormous amounts of time on stealth infiltration, target identification, marksmanship and eventually fired at a one-metre-tall target, nearly 1,000 metres away.

"Snipers don't run. If you're running, you (messed) up," said Colour Sgt. Simons, teasing the other Bermudians who spent some time getting up to physical standards.

Lance Corporal Smith and I fell into ranks with dozens of professional soldiers in the platoon. The platoon carried out what could have been, arguably, the toughest programme in relation to the Bermudian's training standards versus the British training standards.

"It's new weapons systems," remarked Lance Corporal Smith, "We don't have the SA80 rifle, the 51mm mortar or the 94mm LAW (anti-tank missile). So we started off at a disadvantage."

However, we were used to the 7.62 General Purpose Machine Gun (GMPG), of which the Bermuda Regiment has many.

Another weapons system the pair had to become familiar with was the 9 mm pistol which the Bermuda Regiment has an undisclosed number of but are selectively issued.

Matched with our units, we embarked on a military convoy of some vehicles including Land Rovers, defenders and ARVs.

The convoy rolled across Gibraltar and onto a civilian ferry.

The voyage took the convoy-bearing ferry off the tip of Spain and across the straits where the Atlantic Ocean and Mediterranean Sea meet.

From the back of the ferry, Gibraltar and the Rock melted into the horizon as sea birds chased the ferry and dolphins led the way.

As the ferry approached Africa, smaller fishing vessels and cargo freighters littered the waters near the Moroccan port of Tangiers.

The ferry sailed into the port, a historically alluring place, but British "squaddies" warned we Bermudians that "you can't judge a book by it's cover".

It was unilaterally agreed on the ferry that Tangiers was a seedy location and dangerous for the unarmed squaddie.

Shortly after debarking from the ferry, tragedy struck the expedition when Private Christian Wink of the Royal Gibraltar Regiment died in a road traffic accident as the British Army convoy tried to motor through Tangiers.

Pte. Wink had given the four Bermuda Regiment soldiers a tour of Gibraltar shortly after they arrived.

As the fair-haired Gibraltarian leaned over the railings on top of the Rock, he smiled at the Bermuda Regiment squaddies who were marvelling at the views and spoke about his home.

He had recently come back from a tour-of-duty in Northern Ireland, completed his Junior Non-Commissioned Officers Cadre and was awaiting promotion.

"The CO wants his NCO's to have an active tour under their belts - I just thought I would do it now," he said.

His death shocked the British contingent and sent shock waves all the way to the King's Palace in Rabat. The Morrocan king's personal helicopter transported Pte. Wink's body back to Gibraltar.

The training contingent arrived at the Moroccan army base, Camp du Ram Ram, and were gathered into a makeshift chow hall.

G Company commanding officer Major John Perez told the assembled company: "I'm going to need you to dig deep into your character; this by far, is the hardest thing I've ever had to announce."

Two days later, Lance Corporal Smith and I were miles into the mountainous regions of Morocco, with 80 pounds of gear on their backs and moving through their last kilometre on the march, or "tab" as the British called it.

But, this was at least the fourth time they were told this kilometre was the last one.

The mentality quickly became to keep moving, putting one foot in front of the other - and maybe - just maybe, someone might get to sleep tonight.

When the platoon reached their campsite, section commanders walked around with more good news.

"Alright lads, we lost one man on the tab. I don't know, so don't even ask," said Corporal Sean Cawood, "but we're going on a recce patrol tonight."

The man down was British soldier Corporal Grant Smith, who was in agony from a suspected broken ankle. Assisted by two medics he was escorted a few kilometres to a rendezvous point to meet up with an ambulance for casevac, or casualty evacuation.

The recce, or reconnaissance, patrol dropped their kit in the bivouac - which was hidden in a wadi, between two mountains devoid of any vegetation.

After a quick equipment reorganisation, the two Bermudians strapped on webbing and day sacks.

Both checked their full magazines of 30 blank rounds apiece, Smith with four and Richardson with six, then quickly examined their now dusty SA80.

The order came down the chain of command to "cam up" and dozens of soldiers smeared brown, black and green camouflage cream on their arms, hands and faces.

The mission was to investigate a small Muslim settlement, only two kilometres from the bivouac.

Considering the distance just "tabbed", the two kilometres with light kit was not a challenge.

Lance Corporal Smith's group, One Section, had four kilometres to go for their recce.

The route out went over the mountains, through the saddle were the two mountains met, down the other side, onto the road and a stealthy approach - which netted the sections valuable information including a hand sketched map.

The next day, the entire platoon took cover from the harsh desert sun under several Hussein tents, stretched across the wadi.

In Morocco, the sun is so hot that most people would pass out after a few hours of work, the Bermuda Regiment soldiers were told.

The sections scrambled around in the morning, trying to construct their shelters as the sun killed the shade from the two mountains.

As the shadow was disappearing, the scramble turned into a frenzy.

Fortunately, the platoon made it with time to spare and other than a rotating sentry, who sat in the saddle of the mountains, everyone went to sleep or chatted.

But as the sun set and ushered in the night, the soldiers gathered their kit and prepared for a ten kilometre tab to a bivouac, from where, they would launch a platoon attack on several objectives using blank rounds.

A rumour circulating around camp said this was the practice for the live-fire platoon attack the following week.

After the previous night's tab tore the platoon up with fatigue, officers decided that the platoon would take short stops every kilometre but it soon became a competition of just putting one foot in front of the other.

Moroccan terrain is extremely rocky and littered with stones the size of a man's clenched fist. In addition the farmland has the normal concave and convex mounds but the heat during the day literally cooks the land, turning it into stone.

When a soldier's foot lands on the ground, it bends the ankle in odd directions.

With boots, the first few kilometres seem bearable, but soon after - put one foot in front of the other and hope to get some sleep tonight.

"It's just about keep going until the first man goes down," teased Ian Getty of One Royal Irish Regiment, on attachment with G Company like the Bermuda Regiment.

"It's a big boys' game with big boys' rules. It's not a matter of do you want to play, it's a matter of can you play," he added.

Getty, along with Craig (Jordie) Calvert are paratroopers; trained to jump out of an aircraft in the middle of night with incoming fire lighting up the sky. Both assisted Lance Corporal Smith and I through the entire attachment.

After a few hours of tabbing, the platoon finally reached their objective and made camp for the night.

When the sun rose, the drill was easier because the officers had managed to guide the entire platoon into a garden with large green trees.

As with the day before, the sun retreated behind the horizon, the British soldiers began gathering their kit.

This time, the platoon loaded into four Moroccan army trucks and began weapon checks on the way to the combat area. Most were silent as they approached the area.

A quick disembark, a few kilometres tab to the assault area and then "everything went crazy" was how Lance Corporal Smith described it.

"When I got over that hill, it looked like World War III," he laughed.

Live GMPG fire flew overhead the advancing British line as parachute flares lit up the night, throwing an eerie red light on everything.

The elements of muzzle flashes, smoke, loud thunder flashes and leaders shouting had to be sorted out in the mind.

"Everyone was shouting to do something different," said Pte Richardson.

A thunder flash went off near Lance Corporal Smith's section, and the advancing line began to waver.

"Spread out! Keep your spacing! " screamed Corporal Julian Ververldez over the roar of weapons fire and radio static.

My section was in the rear as Lance Corporal Smith's section came under heavy fire from a nearby light support weapon (an extended barrel rapid-fire version of the SA80).

Platoon sergeant Grech, who had been keeping an eye on his Bermudian subordinates, ordered my section to advance and hold the line of fire as Lance Corporal Smith's section pulled back for reorg, a procedure used to redistribute ammo and get an casualty situation report.

Satisfied with the attack, which overran three enemy positions, Major Perez ordered the platoon back to Camp du Ram Ram.

The facility was within a few kilometres, an easy distance compared to the last to the last two days.

Lance Corporal Smith and I returned to Camp du Ram Ram bloody from diving into rocks, running through thorny bushes and living in the field for days.

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See Part two next Tuesday when Colour Sgt. Simons in Snipers starts hitting targets at nearly 1,000 metres away, Colour Sgt. Lee teaches British soldiers how to fire their own anti-tank missile and Lance Corporal Smith and Pte. Richardson begin a training regimen using the of nine mm pistol, 51mm mortar, 7.62mm GMPG and the 94mm HEAT LAW anti-tank missile.