One of the other battalions came back from survival training last night. They looked dead beat, with a scared, had-the-fright-of-my-life look at the back of their eyes. But the elation that came off the whole troop was amazing.

It wasn't just relief that another task had been finished. It wasn't just the joy that the task had been done well. It was much much more than that. Like the buzz at the end of a dome concert, when you know you've made it through with barely a mis-step, when you know you've connected with thousands of people for long moments at a time, when you're too hot and exhausted and sore and yet you're flying as the crowd carries you along on the crest of a giant wave.

They'd clearly achieved something as a team. Something they'd not believed they could do. And it showed.

This morning, then, our first survival lesson. Theory at the moment, but the instructor's words left an impression: Survival is the art of staying alive. Any equipment you have is a bonus.