More than 40 years have passed since Britain fought a secret war in Oman. Former Major Nicholas Ofield has returned for the first time since the conflict to retread his battlegrounds with his son, filmmaker Tristan Ofield. This blog contains excerpts from the production diary Tristan kept during filming.

Tuesday, 5 April 2011

Post 01

That's me standing on the wing of our ride home from an African game reserve. Now when I say "home" I don't mean to England. At this point in my life Africa is home. 
We, that's my father and I, have chosen to walk to our plane, rather than drive. We left the reserve with an armed escort charged with getting us safely to the plane. About a mile into the walk our guide decided it was too dangerous, and taking his elephant gun with him, headed back leaving us to continue unarmed and alone. Now I say unarmed. Note I'm carrying a 6" blade strapped to the right side of my camouflaged belt. My father is carrying a .22 pistol with a busted firing pin. Between the two of us we have enough weapons to piss off a lion but not enough to make it think twice!
Safely at the plane we now wait a further two hours for the pilot to show up; he is not only drunk, but also proceeds to mix up the key for the luggage compartment with the key for the ignition. With one twist it snaps in half, leaving him to have to hot-wire the plane. "Don't worry," he winks reassuringly at me, "I've done this before." 
I'd say situations like this weren't typical of Africa but it would be a lie. I'm eight years old and for me this sort of thing is normal.
21 years later...
For those of you as bad at maths as me - I'm 29. This weekend I'll be prepping my gear for one last adventure. The count down begins.

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