20
SPEAKING OF
VIRGINS . . .
BY JAMES SHORTT
As with every half-decent
story, it starts in a bar, but luckily not the kind that Antonio
Banderas’s character frequents in Once Upon a Time in
Mexico. No, this bar was directly opposite the then
headquarters of the International Bodyguard Association (IBA) in
the aptly named Rue de Bitche in the Parisian suburb of Courbevoie.
For those who do not know Paris, Courbevoie is a small suburb
nestling alongside its better-known Parisian sister La Defense,
with its direct line of sight to L’Étoile and the world-renowned
L’Arc de Triomphe. It was August 1989 and I was drinking my typical
beverage: 100 centilitres of Jameson’s (the Irish whiskey), beloved
of my father and grandfather and countless generations of Irishmen
before me. Beside me was my mentor, teacher and friend, Major
Lucien Ott, the founder of the IBA. Lucien had progressed from
bière (Kronenbourg, the foreign legion’s Vitamin K) to
cognac (Rémy Martin – he would never drink Hennessy) and was
smoking his customary Villiger cigarillo.
As fate would have it, in strode a brave soldier –
or rather a French Army conscript in his drab-olive tenue de
combat. Immediately, he was slapped on the back, and the host
of the bar and its patrons showered him with bière and
offers of stronger alcohol. Lucien and I watched this with interest
– it is not a bad thing to see those who provide service to their
nation feted and appreciated by the citizenry. Within the hour, the
conscript, who was by then a lot less steady on his feet, had
gained some confidence and started to tell tales of gruesome combat
and war in the darkest parts of the ‘Dark Continent’. Although it
entertained the audience of lounge lizards and bar flies who
eagerly sought the conscript’s approval and company, it had the
opposite effect on Lucien Ott, who detected a strong smell of
bovine back splatter (bullshit).
‘Ce n’est pas une pucelle qui va t’apprendre à
baiser,’ Lucien said, his voice carrying across the bar and
interrupting the scene of theatre. (Lucien’s comment could be
loosely translated into English as ‘Virgins can’t teach you to
fuck’.) The conscript probably knew the insult was aimed at him and
was about to unleash a torrent of foul-mouthed abuse when, with one
hand raised, he was stopped short by our host, le patron,
who, in a subdued tone, informed the conscript that he was
addressing Major Lucien Ott. Beside being the personal bodyguard of
President Charles de Gaulle during the OAS crisis, Major Lucien Ott
was also a veteran of the 8th BCCP, the famed second demi-brigade
of the French SAS, a survivor of Dien Bien Phu and a ‘warrior’ born
into the home of a Foreign Legion senior non-commissioned officer
of the 1st Legion Cavalry. The conscript’s gaze focused on the
miniature ribbons that were pinned to the left lapel of Lucien’s
suit jacket. Any Frenchman worth his salt would recognise the
ribbons of the Médaille Militaire, the Croix de Guerre and others
received for combat operations in Indochina and Algeria. What the
ribbons did not reveal was that Lucien had been awarded the Croix
de Guerre four times and the Médaille Militaire five times.
In 2007, the IBA, which I have led since Lucien
Ott’s death a year later in 1990, celebrated half a century of
activity. As an international non-governmental organisation, the
IBA is registered in Brussels with the Union of International
Associations (UIA). The IBA is the only bodyguard organisation that
has consistently met the UIA’s criteria as an international
association.
Besides training people of nearly 100 different
nationalities, the IBA operate some 80 registered offices around
the world, and over the years I have personally trained individuals
from most special-force units and government organisations
worldwide, as well as individuals from some of the elite warrior
nations and races, including Tartars, Mongols, Zulus and Gurkhas.
What has made us different is that we have not blindly imitated
government protocols, such as those employed by the US Secret
Service or UK Royal Military Police, but rather sought to construct
our own standard operating procedures and immediate-action drills
that are both effective and easily used. These are based on
inductive training, as opposed to deductive training. For us, the
difference is that inductive training looks at what works,
establishes why it works and then creates a theory to support the
observations. Deductive training starts with a theory then tries to
make the observations fit it, which we believe to be a
fundamentally flawed method in close protection, creating the need
to make attacks fit the defence. Inductive training is more
natural, because the theory has to fit the facts.
The bottom line in our training is your physical
presence, followed by the protocols of walking with a principal
(escorting), getting them in and out of a vehicle, and transporting
them safely in that vehicle. All else is extra.
However, it must also be said that in the world of
bodyguarding there are still plenty of people who are not fit for
purpose – from practitioners to trainers. They are not bad human
beings, but in our world of protection they seek to take short cuts
where none exist and operate beyond their capabilities. They only
survive on protection details because they fill a space in
environments without any real risk or major threat. When they
teach, they are the equivalent of swimming instructors in the
Sahara: with no water and no possibility of drowning, they can
teach any and all forms of swimming without the fear of failure or
contradiction. The problems only become apparent when their
students ‘take to water’ and step foot into the real world of close
protection. It is a fact that in most countries there is sadly
still no legal requirement for close protection training.
Unfortunately, in our profession, bluff and bullshit and
occasionally outright deception are still heard more loudly than
the wise words of the real professionals – men and women who are
the genuine mainstream of our profession.
Even supposedly well-trained and experienced
operatives should sometimes know better, like a former squadron
sergeant major from 22 SAS who thought it a valuable and helpful
training aid to shoot at his driver with an AK-47. He might have
got away with this piece of ‘Hollywood’ had the location not been
Iraq and the driver an Arab with no knowledge of the ways of the
‘Hereford Jedi’. Result: one convoy vehicle in a drainage ditch in
an extremely hostile environment. Or take the former British Army
soldier who set up his own bodyguard security service company in
Germany, even though he had no formal bodyguard training other than
reading a couple of books on the subject from Paladin Press.
Everything went well until he was asked to protect Whitney Houston
and her husband Bobby Brown, plus members of their family and
entourage. After an evening out, Whitney, Bobby and the family were
transported back to their hotel for the night when the former
squaddie decided to ‘borrow’ Whitney’s stretch limo to show his
girlfriend the sights and sounds of the city. Enter St Murphy, the
patron saint of bodyguards, whose motto is ‘To fail to plan is to
plan to fail’. On this occasion, St Murphy came in the guise of
Whitney’s dad, who got up and went to find security to take him
clubbing because he was unable to sleep due to jet lag. But neither
the driver nor the squaddie were contactable. Furious, Whitney’s
father woke his daughter’s manager, who immediately sacked the
entire security crew and ‘yellow paged’ a replacement team.
The vast majority of celebrity principals are not
interested in the details of their security. They simply wish to
get from A to B with minimum difficulty and for someone to keep the
fans at bay.
In his biography Let the Good Times Roll,
veteran Australian bodyguard Bob Jones tells a number of stories
about incidents that arose because of a lack of proper training or
experience. Bob is a friend of mine, and whenever I am in Melbourne
we get together over a few whiskeys and ‘shoot the breeze’. Bob was
once the bodyguard for most of the ‘big celebrity names’ that
visited the country, from the Rolling Stones to the Beatles, and
from ABBA to Bob’s long-time drinking buddy Joe Cocker. Bob
explained to me that when it all started for him he was just a
martial artist who worked some of the harder doors in the Melbourne
suburbs. ‘There was no training, just thinking on your feet and
learning from mistakes,’ Bob said. In his book, Bob describes how
the Rolling Stones considered cancelling their first-ever tour of
Australia when Joe Cocker was arrested in the country for
possession of drugs. The Rolling Stones’ manager struck a deal with
the promoter that would allow the tour to go ahead but only if they
hired security, and the promoter turned to Bob Jones.
Bob breathed his first short-lived sigh of relief
as the Stones were ferried safely from airport to hotel. Security
had been put into place and limousines organised. However, he was
rudely woken very early the next morning to deal with his first
real crisis. An angry woman with an English accent phoned the hotel
and subjected Bob to a torrent of abuse: ‘Where is my fucking limo?
I was promised a limo would be waiting for me. I am Keith Richards’
wife, and I have just endured a shit flight from London.’ Bob
quickly organised the limo, sped to the airport and found a very
pissed off Mrs Keith Richards waiting. Once placated, she was taken
to the hotel and deposited in the lounge bar while Bob sought out
Keith. Luckily, he met the Rolling Stones’ guitarist in the lobby
and explained that his wife was waiting for him in the lounge.
‘Impressive, Bob,’ Keith said. ‘I have just come off the phone with
her. She hates flying and is still in London.’
Discreetly, they both peered around the corner at
the mystery woman. ‘Fuck. It’s my stalker from South Africa. I had
a one-night stand with her there, and now she follows me about
everywhere.’ Bob quickly moved into action, explaining to ‘Mrs
Richards’ that the band had moved to another hotel before
breakfast, to which she would now be transported by limo. Six hours
of fast driving later, and she was deposited with her luggage at a
cattleman’s kip hotel in the Australian outback. ‘We learned from
that one,’ reminisced Bob, ‘and not just about liars and stalkers.’
Bob told me to always have a plan and a back-up plan for
every situation and to always remember that nothing is as it
presents itself.
The life of a bodyguard can be a bit of a circus.
Whilst I was looking after Patrick Swayze in Sofia, Bulgaria,
during the filming of Icon, the actor confided in me that he
didn’t usually employ professional bodyguards at home in the US.
Instead, he brought a pair of Rhodesian Ridgebacks, also known as
lion dogs because of their ability to bring down adult lions in a
hunt, with him wherever he went. The two dogs would sit by Patrick
and his guests during his meal, and fans would keep a respectful
distance. ‘In some instances, a couple of good dogs are infinitely
better than a couple of bodyguards,’ he would say with a sly smile
on his face.
During the circuit (May–October), there is a flood
of bodyguarding jobs across Continental Europe protecting Arab
royalty, who demand very different operational procedures and
exacting protocols, which can be a nightmare for the untrained or
inexperienced bodyguard. For example, Arab royalty will not have
bodyguards in their vehicle, and there are no formal embus or debus
procedures; instead, the escort team ride in vehicles behind the
principals’, and it is not so much of a controlled convoy than a
dangerous mad-dash pursuit through traffic. Search is always the
best weapon of deterrence in the protection officer’s armoury, yet
there is rarely a search for improvised explosive devices or
electronic surveillance devices of Arab royalty’s accommodation,
venues or vehicles.
Since the creation of the Iraq and Afghanistan
conflicts by the US administration, it is common for bodyguards to
become involved in high-risk protection roles in which competence
with firearms is a must. That competence starts with safety and not
with the purchase of the latest designer sunglasses and beige 5.11
Tactical gear. Although procedure and policy say otherwise, common
sense says that if you are right-handed you should move to the
principal’s left – but countless principals in Iraq have been shot
not by insurgents but by their own bodyguards, who have nervously
stroked a round from an AK-47 or M4 carbine whilst standing to the
right behind their charge. Apparently, the favoured site for
shooting a principal is in the right leg.
Perhaps the most dangerous feature of our industry
is the ‘illusion of competence’. A few years ago in a European
capital, a high-ranking Arab diplomat approached a very well-known
blue-chip security company, which openly boasted of employing the
cream of the British ex-Special Forces. The diplomat was worried
about his daughter, who apparently led an expensive life of abandon
in the company of a rogue of North African origin. The diplomat not
only feared for his wayward daughter, but for the scandal in his
kingdom should her lifestyle become public. A plan was hatched to
place a professional surveillance team on her, and a contract was
signed for many hundreds of thousands of pounds. ‘Professional’
implies people knew what they were doing. The company in question
secured the contract by telling the Arab diplomat that they were
able to utilise the skills of MI5’s A4 department – the
surveillance department of the UK security service that taught the
Royal Ulster Constabulary’s E4 surveillance department. However, an
elite ex-member of A4 was not assigned to the case; in fact, it was
a female Territorial Army soldier with an acid tongue and ongoing
desire to get into the Guinness Book of Records for bedding
the most UK Special Forces soldiers, both serving and veterans.
When she was not playing in the barrack room, her surveillance
vehicle was instantly recognisable by the vast amount of
‘surveillance debris’ she left behind, especially the pile of
discarded cigarette butts on the pavement by her window and a
dashboard littered with empty polystyrene coffee cups and
McDonald’s burger bags.
On any surveillance detail, it is always helpful to
have a team member on a small motorbike who can get through the
congestion in city traffic, but not when that bike is bright yellow
and stands out like a sore thumb, as was the case on this
operation. Despite all of this, and the glaring incompetence of
many of the team’s personnel, I hear that the operation is still
running.
Close protection is not a game. Instead of
celebrating because nothing has happened, you should use your
outsiders’ eye to ensure that nothing can happen in the
future. When constructing your protocols and procedures, look at
the situation from the point of view of the terrorist or attacker,
and actively seek out your weak points instead of covering them
over. At the end of the day, it is not what you know that will get
you killed – it is what you do not know or forget.
BIOGRAPHY OF
JAMES SHORTT
James Shortt has been decorated by the governments
of Estonia, Poland, Latvia, Mongolia, Slovenia, Croatia and the
Ukraine. He has been the director general of the IBA since February
1990. In conjunction with New College Swindon, the IBA provides
close protection training under the UK’s SIA licensing scheme
through the Edexcel examination board.
James Shortt is also a lecturer in basic bodyguard
skills at the University of South Africa (Pretoria) and has trained
the Iraqi Police, United Nations bodyguards and US Army Special
Forces for deployment in South-east Asia, Iraq and Afghanistan. He
has trained Mongolian government bodyguards and has worked with the
Australian Institute of Public Safety to create state and federal
courses for close protection officers. He has also trained Russian
Federation GRAD and SOBR forces, Ukrainian Alpha, Titan, Manguse,
Berkyt and Sokul units, the Zulu Regiment of the South African
National Defence Forces, the 1st United States Homeland Security
Unit, and more recently the Royal Thai Police and Royal Thai Navy
SEALs in bodyguard skills, close protection and
counter-terrorism.