Travelling in Kurdistan in the early 1920s - at the best of times - was hazardous.
The Great Iraqi Revolution had started, Sheikh Mahmud was up to some decidedly anti-British activities, and it took an occupation of British land forces in early 1923 to unseat him, and force him to flee to Persia.
I remember a particularly nasty tiff I had that year with my houseboy Juan, after border guards found a certain package I had stowed in his trunk (I did not have room in mine, and forgot to mention the matter to him).
It was only with the help of a fellow traveller, an officer trained at Sandhurst who had quite remarkable skills with a knife, that I was able to extricate myself from a rather sticky wicket.
Juan spent some years in a Kurdish prison, and went so far as to describe me later to a mutual friend as ''something of a rotter''.
When I heard that, I withheld his wages for a month.
All this came flooding back to me as I watched a preview copy of Sandhurst - a documentary series coming next month showing the inside of the prestigious military academy with a long list of esteemed alumni, including that very nice recent visitor to the city, Prince William.
I can't help feeling that the respect here in Dunedin for the British tradition of military training is one reason a balding English tourist visiting with his wife can fill a stadium.
It was absolutely capital, it really was.
The producers of Sandhurst had privileged access to the academy, which is, it has to be said, a ripping looking pile, with stunning gardens.
We learn the Royal Military Academy has trained the leaders of the British Army for 200 years, in times of both war and peace.
Three gruelling terms, apparently, turn ordinary young men and women into officers prepared to risk their lives and lead others into battle.
We meet an intake of 269 cadets, including Thompson, who joined after his girlfriend left him, and Eldridge, a woman who has a photo of herself meeting Maggie Thatcher.
We meet Barnes, whose father died when he was 14, and who decided to join the army when he was 15.
The gruelling training is a bit much for some.
One young chap realises he is ''a bit wet, a bit sensitive, and a bit of a pansy''.
''If anything I've come here and learnt to accept that - I'm quite happy being myself.''
He leaves.
Eldridge is told she is ''below the standard required''.
She cries.
Sandhurst runs on the Living Channel from May 11.
It is a strangely fascinating show, and well worth a look - whatever you think about military training.
- Charles Loughrey
