I remember when this book first appeared in the shops a few years ago. It was at a time when books by ex-SAS soldiers were flooding the shelves of most bookstores with their eye-catching covers and macho appeal. 'Freefall' seemed to be different in that an ex-member of the SAS was admitting to have succumbed to mental disorder, to have broken down as it is so often described. Here was a man who was not afraid of admitting that something had gone wrong, that he could no longer cope. The honesty shocked me.
And yet, amidst the deluge of special forces' books, I put the book aside, unable to face another round of SAS heroics.
It wasn't until I read about Tom's death earlier this year that my interest was reawakened. And as soon as I started reading 'Freefall' I was utterly absorbed by Tom's narration. It was a book that I carried everywhere for the week, reading snippets whenever I could, or seeking out opportunities to lie back and read for longer periods.
I have to say that my admiration for Tom grew and grew as his mental and physical toughness became more and more evident. From the proving grounds of Para selection and the individual torment of SAS selection, to the gut-wrenching fear of covert operations, Tom demonstrated a remarkable, and indeed a formidable, ability to fight for success whatever the cost.
And at the same time here was an intelligent man whose sense of reason and humanity were quietly being eroded, crippling his judgement and mental prowess. Until finally the erosion was complete.
I was moved to tears reading this book. His apparent recovery at the end of the book is cast into the most tragic of all lights given his ulitmate farewell to the world.
What a courageous, cast-iron spirit. What honesty. What an extraordinary man. Thank you Tom for showing us, for proving to us, that it is not weak to be honest.