The military investigators were going to sweep into RAF Firalti in moments. Cunningham and the others had to move fast to sweep this under the carpet. Despite his relative autonomy Cunningham knew that this could destroy him and end the careers of all involved. He approached the precocious Alex Voight and gave him detailed orders for instigating the cover up.

The SAS were fortunately reassigned a few days later. Sgt Brookes instigated his own scheme to erase the details of the mission. The two SAS soldiers David Bradley and Frank Ludlow were brought into the conspiracy and helped Brookes with his smokescreen. Sgt Brookes and Cunningham never met face to face again.

After the team had done their part in the eradication of evidence. RAF Firalti was left to Voight to smooth over. A task that he performed admirably, the man had a great talent in hiding the truth. With so many missing soldiers to account for and so little time to eradicate evidence. The clean up of TORCHLIGHT was the mission's only real success.


Re-assignment

Cunningham returned to England and accepted a desk job in Whitehall. Whilst the mission was not compromised, indeed it seemed that the cover story was sufficient, it took a long time for the smoke to clear. Lying low, Cunningham sat back and watched Voight's career with interest - plotting his next move.

He needed to contact Sgt Brookes and the SAS soldiers and collate the evidence of what went on at Samara. Cartwright's report was ridiculous fantasy, probably caused by posttraumatic stress or the now infamous Gulf War Syndrome - a side effect of chemical agents, toxins or pollution stored at the Samara site perhaps? But something in the man's eyes told another story. The witnesses to the tale were convinced that Cartwright was saying the truth at least as he saw it.

About 18 months after the mission David Bradley and Frank Ludlow left the SAS, passing out with full honours. Bradley had secretly been experiencing nightmares, vivid and horrific flashbacks to the mission. Rather than be sectioned out of the army he sought voluntary retirement to save face, telling no one of his condition. Ludlow had suffered a messy divorce due to a domestic violence claim; the decision to quit was not an easy one to make for him, having nothing to return to civilian life for.

After the passing out celebrations died down they joined the British Diplomatic Protection Service as bodyguards to visiting dignitaries and often seconded into the Royal Protection Service when called for. Robert Brookes -now a Captain- 'greased the wheels' to get his men the positions that they hold to this day.

RAF Warrant Officer Alex Voight went far and fast, his meteoric career spectacular. He excelled in administration and military know how and was rewarded often for his efforts. From behind the lines Cunningham had him transferred to MI6's Diplomatic Liaison Personnel, assisting in forming high-level treaties and supporting international spying operations. But within the success and medals the young man's off-duty hours were an alcoholic haze, his personal life a misery. This was the cause of a regrettable incident in 1997 when he was stationed in Guatemala officiating over diplomatic affairs at the British Embassy.

When his alcoholism came to light it almost destroyed Voight, a once fine career now marred by allegations of binges of uncontrolled drinking and debauched behaviour. Voight was shipped back to Britain by MI6 and placed in a country retreat to dry out. It was at Cunningham's request that Voight was given a cushy position in the Diplomatic Service within the British Embassy in Panama City. Voight sat behind a desk in the heat of Panama rethinking his life and fighting with the bottle and the boredom.


A death in the family

Cunningham had continued to try in vain to contact Captain Brookes. For several years it seemed like Brookes was ignoring him for he gave no reply to his attempts to set up a meeting.

Finally Brookes made contact in November of 1998. Cunningham was at home in bed when the call came in, on an encrypted line. Brookes sounded scared and exhausted. He must have been outside as the sound of fierce wind whipped across the handset. He said that he was overseeing the SAS selection process in the Brecon Beacons and needed to speak face to face immediately. Cunningham left for Wales at 2am that morning.

He drove through the night, to the GPS position that Captain Brookes had given which led to a forested valley of the river Usk in the Black Mountains of southern Wales near Monmouth. The place was a picnic area surrounded by thick forest. A battered open-topped Land Rover was parked at its edge.

Cunningham got out of his car and surveyed the area in his headlights. Blood covered the seats inside the Land Rover; its tarpaulin roof hung in the treetops thirty feet away.

He ran back to his car as the itching in his brain began, a sickening whining hum carried down the valley floor as he sped off down the rutted and potholed road. Strange lights whirled in the night sky above him.

He returned to London exhausted and shaken, determined to uncover what had happened to Captain Brookes and the soldiers that died at Samara.


Credits: Chris Glew