Ant Middleton - Zero Negativity: The Power of Positive Thinking

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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

FIRST EDITION

Anthony Middleton 2020

Cover design by Claire Ward HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cover photograph Pl Hansen/Twenty Twenty

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Anthony Middleton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008336516

Ebook Edition September 2020 ISBN: 9780008336547

Version: 2020-08-17

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I dedicate this book to you, the positive thinkers, the positive outlookers of life, and to those who possess the power of positivity and believe that anything can be achieved if you put your mind to it.

1. 
   INTRODUCTION: BULLETPROOF
2. 
   CHAPTER 1: I KNOW WHO I AM
3. 
   ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
4. 
   By The Same Author

It could be any night. We could be anywhere.

This one starts in a huge encampment out in the grim, grey, enemy-crawling desert. Its stuffed with millions upon millions of dollars of the most advanced military equipment known to man. During the day, hundreds of US personnel hurry about with their sleeves rolled up, their berets set just so and their regulation assault rifles slung over their shoulders. CIA operatives in tan chinos and sporting Oakley shades do their best to pretend they dont exist. All around us are massive hangars housing fully kitted-out Hawks, Apaches and Chinooks. This isnt a massive surprise. The gyms here are bigger than an entire British base.

Theres an almost hallucinogenic difference between the US camp and my destination later tonight, a shabby, run-down compound deep in the desert. Its difficult to believe they exist in the same world, let alone the same country. For now, though, theyre both shrouded by darkness, at that time when everything changes and objects lose the reassuring form they possessed in the day: the shadow cast by a dog is easily mistaken for a whole patrol of men, a dislodged stone sounds like a rifle shot.

We learned where we were going at a briefing two hours ago, and the following minutes have passed quickly. Im absorbed by routines that have become deeply familiar to me. I check my kit, again and again and again. I know that if I make just one slip a piece of carelessness in cleaning my weapon, an oversight when packing ammunition I might as well be writing my own death sentence. I dont want my last thoughts on this planet to begin, If only

Once Im sorted, I enter the coordinates of our target into my GPS. I check the map, looking for reference points. If I see a mountain, for instance, Ill want to remember its location so that when I see its triple peaks out of the corner of my right eye in the dark, Ill know were heading in the right direction. After that, I look hard at every piece of intelligence thats come my way and stare at the buildings Ill soon be storming into. I commit every detail to memory, so I wont be surprised by a corridor that opens out unexpectedly or a door that leads nowhere.

I always have the same questions running through my head. What is my job? Where do I go first? Where can I expect to find armed guards? Are there civilians? When I see the target, how will I identify him? I try to break every element down until Ive reached a point where I understand it completely. I have a visual mind. When Im looking at a map there will come a moment when its contours levitate into three dimensions above the page.

When Ive done all this, I run through the first plan, and for each key moment try to find an alternative in case something goes wrong. If this door wont open, how else will we get in? Secondary options? Try an entrance round the back? Its another form of visualisation. I try to imagine every single eventuality to the point where I almost have a muscle memory of it. When the action actually does unfold, it will be as if Ive already experienced it.

The skill is not to overthink it or to overload yourself with more information than necessary. You need to stay nimble; youve got to be able to think on your feet. If youve absorbed too many details, your thinking will be rigid, undynamic. As Mike Tyson once said: Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth. When the shit hits the fan as it inevitably will at some point I know that I still have the foundations of the mission in my head. Everything else can be supplied by my training.

The first few times I went into combat I had a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach that ended up destroying my appetite. It didnt last long. I dont stuff my face before setting out, but I have to make sure Im fed and watered. Carbed up. The mission could last two or three hours. It could also unfold over two or three days.

Some people seek out others. I just want to be by myself and try to grab as much time alone as I can. I want to get into the zone, run the mission through my head again. Tonight Im calm. This hasnt always been the way. There have been occasions when I was able to actually see my nerves. One night, before a mission that had very particular personal resonance for me, I remember how the adrenaline came on like a king tide. I could feel it in my veins, surging and throbbing in great liquid waves. Id headed over to the hangar ahead of my comrades half an hour early, to give myself the chance to have a brew in the silence before it all kicked off. But as I dipped my spoon into the packet of sugar, I noticed it was shaking. Little granules were falling off its sides and back into the packet. I watched for a moment, focused on each crystal as it tumbled downwards, then looked up anxiously toward the hangar door. This was no good. I had to get myself under control.

I tried forcing myself to steady my breathing, slowing it down, deepening my draws of oxygen. But when I looked down, the spoon was still shaking. At that moment I heard footsteps. I glanced up. It was another soldier. Give it thirty seconds and there wouldnt be any sugar left on the fucking thing. The other guys footsteps came closer towards me, echoing in the vast, dark hangar. As he approached, I felt a sudden rage at my weakness. It blasted through me, but I managed to control it. I allowed the fury to fill me up, every limb now engorged and primed, every muscle taut. A few years earlier, my anger would have taken over. Now Id learned to use it like an injection of insanely powerful steroids. I was ten times stronger than Id been a moment ago. A hundred times stronger. I looked at the spoon. It was almost still.