6th June 1965 – Eastern Finland
The Soviet T-62 tank passed within inches of Nic Slater. He was lying prone in long grass beside a little-used farm track about a hundred metres from the border between Finland and the Soviet Union.
Looking to his right, he saw two members of the SAS team lift their weapons, ready to engage any infantry following in the tank’s wake.
Their faces were a study in concentration, no hint of fear. Nic wished he felt so calm. Despite the early morning chill, he was sweating, and his heart felt like it was beating inside his head. The machine pistol in his right hand was secured in a near death grip. He was a spy not a soldier. He had not expected to be on the front lines. Yet in amongst the fear was an intense feeling of exhilaration. At this moment, he mattered. Nic Slater, a working-class kid from
Sheffield, was important.
The tank neared the gate where the SAS team had laid explosives designed immobilise it. Nic could already see the second and third tanks in the column rumbling down the track. It was mismatch. A sixteen-man SAS squad and a petrified MI6 agent against four Soviet tanks and who knew how much infantry.
Time seemed to move in slow motion as the lead tank hit the tripwire and the first batch of explosives detonated. For a split second, it seemed as if the whole tank levitated off the ground before crashing back to earth.
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