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1-45
45. George and I flew from Lesotho to Cape Town, to meet up with some mates, and Marko. March 2004. We were staying at the home of the consulate general, and one night we talked about havingsome people over. For dinner. Just one small problem. We did
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1-46
46. We spent three days walking, laughing, drinking, mingling with the animals. Not just wildanimals. By chance we met up with a snake wrangler, who showed us his cobra, his rattlesnake. He manipulated the snakes up and down his shoulders, his arms,
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1-47
47. Chels and I learned an important lesson. Africa was Africabut Britain was always Britain. Soon after we arrived back at Heathrow we were papped. Never fun for me, but not a shock either. Thered been a few years, after Mummy disappeared,when Id ha
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1-48
48. There must have been something in the air. Just as I was embarking on my new romance, Paannounced that hed decided to marry. Hed asked Grannys permission, and shed granted it. Reluctantly, it was reported. Despite Willy and me urging him not to,
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1-49
49. Around this time, just before the wedding, or perhaps just after, I went off with Willy to train withthe British Special Boat Service. It wasnt official training. Just a bit of boys and toys, as we calledit. Mostly a lark, though it did grow out
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1-50
50. One of Willys friends was having a birthday party. In the countryside near Gloucestershire. Morethan a birthday party, it was a fancy-dress party, with a cringy theme. Natives and colonials. Guests were required to dress accordingly. January 2005
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1-51
51. Bearded, bespectacled, with a deeply lined face and dark, wise eyes, he was Chief Rabbi ofBritain, that much Id been told. But right away I could see he was much more. An eminentscholar, a religious philosopher, a prolific writer with more than t
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1-52
52. He was to be our new private secretary: Jamie Lowther-Pinkerton was his name. But I dontremember Willy and me referring to him as anything other than JLP. We shouldve just called him Marko II. Or maybe Marko 2.0. He was meant to be Markosreplacem
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1-53
53. I carried a small overnight bag containing a few personal items, plus one standard-size ironingboard, slung jauntily under my arm like a surfboard. The Army had ordered me to bring it. Fromhere on my shirts and trousers would need to be crease-fr
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1-54
54. Every day, upon waking at five a.m., we were forced to down a huge bottle of water. The bottlewas Army-issued, black plastic, a leftover from the Boer War. Any liquid inside tasted of first-generation plastic. And piss. Plus, it was piss warm. So
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1-55
55. After those first five weeks, after the close of boot camp, the color sergeants eased up. Ever soslightly. They didnt shout at us quite so much. They treated us like soldiers. As such, however, it was time to learn about war. How to make it, how
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1-56
56. In late summer we were shipped to Wales and put through a punishing exercise called LongReach. A nonstop march, yomp and run over several days, up and down barren countryside, with aload of gear strapped to our backs, equivalent to the weight of
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1-57
57. Though exhausted, though a bit lonely, I felt radiant. I was in the shape of my life, I was thinkingand seeing more clearly than ever before. The feeling was not unlike that described by people whoenter monastic orders. Everything felt lit up. As
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1-58
58. It was now official. I was no longer Prince Harry. I was Second Lieutenant Wales of the Blues andRoyals, second oldest regiment of the British Army, part of the Household Cavalry, bodyguards tothe Monarch. The passing out, as they called it, took
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2-1
part 2bloody, but unbowed 1. Britains Ministry of Defence told the world in February 2007 that I was deploying, that I wouldbe commanding a group of light tanks along the Iraqi border, near Basra. It was official. I was offto war. Public reaction was
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