The fourth Invictus Games will take place in Sydney on 20–27 October 2018.
This book gives an insight into the lives of servicemen and women who have been wounded or faced life-changing illness in the Armed Forces: what goes through their minds at the moment of injury; the effect this event has on their family and friends; the long and often painful road to recovery; where they find the strength and courage to keep fighting; and how they embrace a life that they had never imagined.
The stories of the men and women in this book are some of the most inspiring examples of courage and determination you will read anywhere. Not because they are superhuman; in fact, quite the opposite – they are normal people who have fought hard to overcome seemingly insurmountable challenges and come back stronger! I am extremely grateful to them for sharing their experiences so honestly. I am also delighted that they have been given this opportunity to tell their stories and, in doing so, inspire millions of people around the world by their example.
It is important to remember that this book highlights just a handful of stories from Invictus Games competitors who have experienced life-altering events. There are hundreds of other servicemen and women who showcase their Invictus spirit every day by overcoming injury and illness, reminding us what grit, determination, defiance and the will to succeed really mean.
This book recognises the amazing example set by our servicemen and women, their contribution to society and ultimately the sacrifices they are prepared to make for their country.
We can all draw strength from these breathtaking stories. The men and women who feature in this book, and the many others like them around the world, are a constant reminder that it is possible to overcome adversity, and that the impossible is possible if you have the will.
I am proud that the Invictus Games continue to change lives every day and am confident that you will be as moved and inspired by these stories as I have been.
Prince Harry
When I started Unconquerable, my thinking was guided by two lines of belief. First, that the Invictus Games would be like the Olympics or Paralympics, where the medal table is both pride and curse and where lip service is paid to the importance of taking part while all the attention goes to those standing on the podium. Second, that there’d be a definite hierarchy within the WIS network. The wounded, those who’d lost limbs in battle, would, in a perverse way, be the glamour squad, the ones who’d suffered the most and whose very appearance would be a constant reminder of the sacrifices they’d made. Behind them would come the injured, and bringing up the rear would be the sick, because everybody gets sick now and then, don’t they?
I could hardly have been more wrong on both counts if I’d tried.
When you watch the Olympics and Paralympics, most of the pleasure you get is from watching people who are the very best in the world at what they do. Their backstories are usually irrelevant, though not always – the impact of, for instance, the German weightlifter Matthias Steiner’s gold medal at Beijing in 2008 is magnified severalfold when you know that his wife, Susann, had been killed in a car crash the year before and he’d promised her as she lay dying that he’d become champion in her memory.
Olympians and Paralympians dedicate their lives to those few minutes every four years, and are judged on the order in which they finish. Those who compete in the Invictus Games are very different. Who wins which medal is almost irrelevant. It’s not the finish line which counts, it’s the start line. Even to get to that start line after what these people have been through is a triumph in itself, a triumph made sweeter by the demands and joys of competition – the camaraderie, the challenge, the banter, the exploration of one’s limits.
And because everyone who competes has gone through some version of hell to get there, there is no comparing or grading of afflictions. More than one triple amputee told me that, yes, what they’d been through was horrific and, yes, day-to-day living could be very tricky, but there was also an acceptance of their situation and a determination to make the best of it. Their limbs weren’t going to grow back, but nor were they going to deteriorate still further. The worst had come and gone. Crack on.
Compare that to those undergoing prolonged cancer treatment or suffering the excruciating debilitations of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Less visible ailments, sure, but no less serious for that: in some ways more serious, with the uncertainty of what might happen in the future and the fluctuations in how they feel not just week to week but day to day and sometimes even hour to hour.
I didn’t know any of this at the start, but I learned pretty fast. I already knew that watching world-class athletes achieve greatness was inspiring. Now I learned that watching wounded warriors achieve greatness was more than inspiring. It was life-changing.
As a writer, you do some projects for love and some for money. Now and then, though very seldom, you get to work on something which is an absolute privilege. Writing Unconquerable was one of those rare, precious things. Every day I felt humbled by the extraordinary stories I was hearing and awestruck at the astonishing resilience of the human spirit.
I hope that when you read this book you see why.
Boris Starling, May 2017
Thank you to all those without whom this book could not have happened.
Those competitors who gave up their time over coffee, beer, Skype or e-mail to talk to me with such unflinching candour: Amy Baynes, Josh Boggi, Darlene Brown, Bart Couprie, Kai Cziesla, Seb David, Christine Gauthier, Mike Goody, Maurice Manuel, Stephan Moreau, Sarah Rudder, Maurillia Simpson, Fabio Tomasulo, Phil Thompson, Zoe Williams, Mary Wilson and Rahmon Zondervan.
The wonderful Cake Lady, Kath Ryan, for telling me her own unique story.
Sara Trott, for her insight into what life is like for friends and families.
At the Invictus Games Foundation, Dominic Reid, Julie Burley and Mickey Richards.
The staff of the Defence Medical Rehabilitation Centre at Headley Court, particularly Peter Haslam, Lt Col Rhodri Phillip, Kate Sherman, Mark Thoburn and Lt Col Gareth Thomas.
Hannah Lawton of the GB Rowing Team Paralympic Programme and all the other coaches and hopefuls at the Bath University training weekend, who tolerated me asking them questions when they had better things to do.
At HarperCollins, Liz Dawson for suggesting me for this project, Oliver Malcolm for agreeing with her, Emily Arbis for pulling everything together, and Simon Gerratt and Jane Donovan for eagle-eyed copy-editing.
At Caskie Mushens, Juliet Mushens and Nathalie Hallam.
At Kensington Palace, Kat McKeever and of course Prince Harry, whose passion for and eloquence about the Invictus Games cause comes from the heart and is awe-inspiring.
My parents, David and Judy Starling, and my in-laws, Jenie and Jeremy Wyatt.
And as always, my wife, Charlotte, and our children, Florence and Linus, the three captains of my soul.
Out of the night which covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For