It was 14 December 2007 and bitterly cold at RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire, the very airfield where ten years earlier Harry's mother had arrived on her final journey home. Wrapped up against the bracing wind in his warmest kit, Harry quick-marched up the steps of the C-17 RAF Globemaster III transport aircraft. His Bergen was stuffed to the brim and weighed twenty-five kilos. In it he had supplies for the next four months including a small radio, his all-weather sleeping bag, an inflatable air bed, protective goggles, sun cream, a paintbrush to clean the sand from his weapons and a supply of his favourite Haribo jelly sweets. His pistol and SA80 A2 rifle had been separately packed in a weapons bundle and would be given to him as soon as they landed. Round his wrist he wore a red and blue Help For Heroes band, as did Chelsy, who was one of the few people who knew Harry was going to war.

This was no ordinary flight: the aircraft was big enough to transport tanks and helicopters, and there were no seats. Instead webbing hung from the sides, in which the soldiers could sit during the eleven-hour flight to Kandahar. It was b.u.mpy and uncomfortable, and once they had taken off, Harry spread his sleeping bag on the floor and tried to get some sleep. He had been instructed to wear his helmet and Osprey body armour upon landing. His uniform, which bore the Blues and Royals' eagle badge, also carried his army number WA 4673 A. Once they had safely landed he was given forty-eight hours to acclimatise before he was flown by Chinook to Forward Operating Base (FOB) Dwyer, a dusty outpost in the middle of Helmand Province, considered by many one of the most dangerous places on earth. The base, the size of four football pitches, was uncomfortable and austere. It had been fortified with HEs...o...b..stions, collapsible wire-mesh containers filled with gravel. Harry was just seven miles from Garmsir, a deserted front-line town, and would soon discover that there was little left of the burned-out and looted high street, once the centre of a bustling commercial town.

Cornet Wales had been well briefed. He was now one of the 30,000 British military personnel to have served in Afghanistan since the US-led invasion in 2001. Initially British forces helped secure the capital, Kabul, before moving into Helmand Province in the south of Afghanistan in 2006. It was hoped that the Americans and British could extend government control into this Taliban heartland; instead the coalition has faced stiff resistance and years of b.l.o.o.d.y fighting. By the time Harry went to war eighty-nine British soldiers had been killed, sixty-three of them in action against the Taliban, while hundreds more had been injured.

It was on the sandy battlefields of Afghanistan that Harry finally got to put his training to the test. To the pilots in the sky he was Widow Six Seven, a radio call sign keeping a close eye on them and an even closer watch on the enemy. Harry was a.s.signed his own restricted operating zone, which was several square kilometres around FOB Dwyer. It was his job to identify Taliban forces on the ground, verify their coordinates and clear them as targets for attack. He would spend hours poring over maps, surveillance images and video footage of enemy positions, and had to log every detail identifying, confirming and pinpointing the Taliban. Crucially, coalition air a.s.sets needed his permission to enter his air s.p.a.ce, and within weeks he would be coordinating his first-ever air raid.

In the FOB operations room Harry monitored every movement on a sophisticated live airborne video feed linked up to a computer, which was dubbed Taliban TV or Kill TV. 'Terry Taliban and his mates, as soon as they hear air, they go to ground, which makes life a little bit tricky,' Harry explained. 'So having something that gives you a visual feedback from way up means that they can carry on with their normal pattern of life and we can follow them. My job is to get air up, whether I have been tasked it a day before or on the day or when troops are in contact.' He was working alongside Corporal David Baxter, a twenty-eight-year-old former tank driver from Bendooragh near Coleraine in Northern Ireland, who had trained with him in the Household Cavalry. Harry quickly earned the respect of the corporal.

He's a really down-to earth person. To be honest I don't think anyone thinks of him as third-in-line to the throne or anything. You just take him at face value as any other officer ... He's fitted in really well. The first time he took over the net from his predecessor he was straight in there. He's really confident and sounded like he'd been there for quite a considerable amount of time. He's always got a rapport with the pilots that he's talking to. I'm sure they would be quite shocked as well if they knew who they were talking to.

Harry's easy nature and sense of humour quickly won him the friendship and trust of his comrades. When there was no threat of attack he chatted over the radio with the pilots about their homes and families. 'It's good to be relaxed and have a good chat. When you know things are hairy, then you need to obviously turn your game face on and do the job.' He particularly liked Mich.e.l.le Tompkins, a Harrier pilot who would describe the breathtaking views from her c.o.c.kpit. She had a bird's-eye views of the snowcapped mountains and laughed when Harry joked that conditions were perfect for skiing. Of course none of the pilots had the slightest inkling that Widow Six Seven was in fact Prince Harry, even though his clipped English meant he was a hit with all the female pilots. 'We said, "Flirt with her any longer and you have to get a room",' joked Harry's commanding officer, battery commander Major Andy Dimmock. 'He said, "Does that count as the Mile-High Club?'"

Incredibly Harry's troop leader on desert manoeuvres in Helmand turned out to be Captain d.i.c.kon Leigh-Wood, a twenty-seven-year-old from Fakenham in Norfolk who had gone to Ludgrove with William and Harry. 'It was a ma.s.sive surprise,' said the captain of his chance encounter with the prince. 'I think he is loving it. He loves the privacy there's no paparazzi chasing him. He hasn't got his bodyguard team in the field. He's with the boys, who he gets on with incredibly well. He's always playing rugby or football or sitting around the fire telling stupid stories.'

On Christmas Eve Harry asked to be posted to the Gurkhas at FOB Delhi in the perilous Garmsir area close to the border with Pakistan. Delhi consists of shattered buildings and the remnants of a once respected but now bombed-out agricultural college. The town's high street was the British front line, and between Harry and the enemy was 500 metres of no-man's-land consisting of abandoned trenches and the remains of what used to be working farms. The base was under daily attack and the nearest hospital a thirty-minute helicopter ride away, but despite the basic conditions, Harry could not have been happier. 'What it's all about is being here with the guys rather than being in a room with a bunch of officers ... It's good fun to be with just a normal bunch of guys, listening to their problems, listening to what they think.'

In the ghost town of Garmsir Harry could not have felt further from home. In his US Stars and Stripes baseball cap with its slogan WE WE DO DO BAD BAD THINGS THINGS TO TO BAD BAD PEOPLE PEOPLE, which he had traded with another officer for his fleece scarf, he was barely recognisable. He was sunburned and his red hair matted with sand. He slept in a mortar-proof billet which contained a narrow camp bed with a mosquito net, a locker made from an old mortar sh.e.l.l box and a rug embroidered with pictures of tanks and hand grenades. Like everyone else he was rationed to one bottle of drinking water a day, and once he had drunk that, the vile-tasting chlorinated water had to suffice. Food consisted of boil-in-the-bag chicken tikka masala and corned beef hash. Harry missed his favourite Big Macs, and the only luxuries were his Haribo sweets and a few bags of South African biltong, which would arrive in the post from Chelsy. There were no hot showers, and when the fine dust that collected in every crevice became unbearable, only freezing-cold water was available. Shaving was restricted to once every three days and the rounded ends of missile cases were used as shaving bowls. Harry revelled in the simplicity and anonymity of this life. 'Delhi is fantastic. I asked the commanding officer if I could come down here and spend Christmas with the Gurkhas because I had spent some time with them in England on exercise in Salisbury. Everyone is really looked after here ... The food is fantastic goat curries, chicken curries.'

Harry spent Christmas Day patrolling the bombed-out town and enjoying a game of touch rugby with his new friends. 'Not your typical Christmas,' he remarked. 'But Christmas is overrated anyway.' Back at home the press kept their word and little was made of the fact that Harry was absent from the family's traditional lunch at Sandringham. When the Queen delivered her traditional Christmas Day speech, she poignantly prayed for the safe return of every soldier in Afghanistan. Few knew she and the rest of the royals were feeling the same fear and worry as every other family who had a son or daughter on the front line that Christmas. As the royal family raised their gla.s.ses to absent friends they were reminded of Harry, who had organised a sweepstake before his departure in which everyone had had to guess the name of Edward and Sophie Wess.e.x's baby boy born on 20 December. The winner was to be presented with the prize, a substantial amount of cash, at Christmas Day lunch. Harry had his money on Albert Archibald. The money, it was decided, would stay in the pot until both boys were home.

As he patrolled the derelict streets in his wraparound shades, an Afghan scarf and his army-issue helmet, a nine-millimetre pistol strapped to his body armour, Prince Harry was unidentifiable. A boy on a donkey trotted past and didn't give Cornet Wales a second glance. Out on patrol, home was a Spartan armoured vehicle containing everything the soldiers would need to survive for days on end. It was unimaginably uncomfortable. The men heated drinking water in a boiler built into the back door powered by the Spartan's engine. Tea and coffee tasted identical, but when the temperatures dropped to minus ten at night they were grateful for a hot drink. At night Harry and his men slept in sh.e.l.l sc.r.a.pes make-do shelters made by attaching tarpaulins to the vehicle, which kept the elements out, but there was no padding and his bones dug into the Spartan, leaving him black and blue. 'I can't wait to get back and just sit on a sofa. It's going to be ridiculous after bouncing around in a turret. My hips are bruised, my a.r.s.e is bruised,' he complained. Nevertheless he loved the routine of army life and seemed more comfortable being a soldier than a prince. 'Just walking around [with] some of the locals or the Afghan National Police they haven't got a clue who I am. They wouldn't know. It's fantastic,' he told John Bingham, the journalist who accompanied him to the front line for the Press a.s.sociation. 'I'm still a little bit conscious [not to] show my face too much in and around the area. Luckily there's no civilians around here ... It's sort of a little no-man's-land.'

He didn't mind not being able to wash, nor did he miss alcohol or nightclubs. He didn't even seem bothered by the 'desert roses', mortar-carrying tubes angled into the ground which served as urinals. Apart from the tasteless boil-in-the-bag meals there was little he disliked about being in a war zone. 'What am I missing the most? Nothing really,' said Harry, sitting on his cot in FOB Delhi. 'I honestly don't know what I miss at all. Music we've got music. We've got light; we've got food; we've got nonalcoholic drink. No, I don't miss the booze, if that's the next question. It's nice just to be here with all the guys and just mucking in as one of the lads ... It's bizarre. I'm out here now, haven't really had a shower for four days, haven't washed my clothes for a week, and everything seems completely normal. I think this is about as normal as I'm ever going to get.'

Although it was dangerous, life was also monotonous. In his free time he read magazines, and his well-thumbed collection of lads' magazines ensured he was popular. He also had time to reflect on his life. At times, he admitted, his thoughts turned to his mother, but he never allowed himself to dwell on the past. 'I suppose it's just the way it is. There are other people out here who've lost parents ... Hopefully she'll be proud. She would be looking down having a giggle about the stupid things that I've been doing, like going left when I should have gone right ... William sent me a letter saying how proud he reckons that she would be.'

Like everyone he looked forward to receiving mail, which could arrive as infrequently as every two weeks or even longer. He did not receive his father's Christmas card until February. To fill in the hours he often played poker with his fellow officers or had a kickabout with a makeshift ball made from loo rolls and gaffer tape. Every week like everyone else he was allowed thirty minutes on a satellite phone. Harry used these precious moments to call home and speak to his family. From a private corner in the camp, where the service dipped in and out of signal, he also called Chelsy. She would fill him in on her days and make him laugh with tales of the disastrous dinner parties she regularly hosted at her student digs. Cooking, Harry knew, was not her strong point, and a fellow officer told how he burst into laughter as Chelsy relayed how she had burned yet another lasagne. She kept the conversation upbeat, and only afterwards would she allow herself to cry. She was desperately worried for his safety and, according to one of her closest friends, wrote letters to Harry every day. They also managed to communicate intermittently on Facebook, on which Harry used the pseudonym 'Spike Wells'. 'F***ing cold here. Like insanely cold bit weird!! Anyhoo, gotta go, lots of love to you, probably see you soon unfortunately for you, hehe! Laters ginge!' In another he simply told the girl he calls 'Chedda' he was missing her. 'I love you. I mis [sic] u gorgeous.' Their troubles were behind them and it was thoughts of being reunited with Chelsy that kept Harry going. He had a picture of her in his pocket, and according to another officer spoke proudly of his 'beautiful' South African girlfriend and how he couldn't wait to be with her again. Unfortunately for Harry, it would be sooner than he expected.

Cornet Wales stared at the screen forcing his eyes to stay open. He had not slept for seventy-two hours, and as he kept his gaze on Taliban TV beads of perspiration collected on his forehead. It was New Year's Eve and this was Widow Six Seven's opportunity to prove his worth. A Desert Hawk drone, a small remote-controlled spy aircraft the size of a large model aeroplane, had spotted what looked like Taliban fighters in his operating zone. Harry had been watching them using its surveillance cameras and thermal imaging devices for three long nights. Everything had gone through his mind. Was it the Taliban or could the figures be civilians? He knew he could not afford to make a mistake. Targets had to be positively identified and present a threat to coalition forces before he was allowed to call in a strike. Instinct told him his hunch was right it was the Taliban and it was time to strike. Just to be sure he stayed up till midnight watching the area, and at 10 a.m. the next day his suspicions were confirmed when the enemy opened fire on a small British observation post on the front line. Within hours Forward Operating Base Delhi was under heavy attack and Harry needed to call in an air strike. It was what he had been trained to do, and within seconds he had been a.s.signed two F15s. The warplanes, armed with 500-pound bombs, appeared on his radar six miles from the target, and Harry guided them in. The pilots radioed 'in hot', the call sign that they were ready to strike. Sweat dripped from his forehead as Harry calmly issued the authorisation: 'Cleared hot.' Within seconds the planes had dropped their munitions and two ground-shaking explosions rocked the network of Taliban bunkers he had been watching for days. As the firing around him subsided, fifteen Taliban fighters emerged from their shelters. It was ruthless but Harry knew what he had to do next. He called the jets back and verified the co-ordinates. A third bomb exploded moments later and suddenly there was no sign of life.

It was Harry's first strike and a complete success, but it was just the beginning. Only days later he would see action again. On 2 January Harry started a week at a nineteenth-century fort not far from FOB Delhi, one of the only elevated watch points on the front line. His boss, Major Mark Millford, officer commanding B Company of the 1st Battalion the Royal Gurkha Rifles, described the area as 'about as dangerous as it can get'. Harry was just 500 metres from the enemy trenches when twenty Taliban were spotted moving towards his position. The Gurkhas with Harry fired a Javelin missile at the enemy, but they kept advancing. Harry seized a fifty-calibre machine gun and pulled the trigger, the distant plumes of smoke serving as his aim. Wearing earplugs, Harry gritted his teeth, focused on his target and pulled the trigger again. It was the prince's first firefight, and he grinned as a Gurkha recorded the moment on Harry's video camera, which he had been using to make a diary. 'This is the first time I've fired a fifty-cal,' he said, exhilarated by the thirty-minute battle from which he and his men emerged victorious. He was just 500 metres from Line Taunton, the heavily fortified trench system which marks the start of the Taliban-controlled area in Helmand. 'The whole place is just deserted. There are no roofs on any of the compounds; there are craters all over the place. It looks like something out of the Battle of the Somme,' he continued as the camera panned around the battle-scarred land.

On the other side of the world the rumour that Prince Harry was fighting on the front line in Afghanistan was beginning to gather momentum. The news had broken in January in an Australian magazine called New Idea New Idea, which had chosen to ignore the embargo on Harry's deployment. There had been no denial from Clarence House or the Ministry of Defence, but fortun -ately the story had not been followed up. General Sir Richard Dannatt was still concerned about the prince's security, however, and as a precaution the six SAS soldiers who had taken him out to Afghanistan were flown to FOB Edinburgh, where Harry had been stationed for several weeks.

Edinburgh is only seven kilometres away from the Taliban's heartland around Musa Qala, and the routes to it are heavily mined. The war-torn town had just been retaken in a two-week a.s.sault by British and American troops, and the locals were living in fear. The Taliban had wreaked havoc, burning the locals' houses and destroying their crops and animals. Harry was to join a troop of Spartan reconnaissance vehicles in an attempt to capture the remote village of Karis De Baba, where it was suspected the Taliban were regrouping. It was an honour for the prince to be sent, and a personal tragedy that he never made it. He had come so far and much further forward than he ever imagined he would. At times it was dangerous. During one ground patrol of Musa Qala his Scimitar nearly hit a Taliban landmine. The mine was spotted by a drone just in time, and Harry made light of the incident, insisting he was at no more risk than any other soldier, but he had come perilously close. On another occasion Harry was caught in crossfire. He had been bringing Chinooks into FOB Edinburgh to fly casualties out to the nearest medical base, and without warning found himself under rocket fire, missiles exploding just fifty metres away. He was ordered to take cover and escaped unscathed.

Away from the front line, renowned US blogger Matt Drudge had picked up New Idea New Idea's story and run it on his website the Drudge Report, which is read by millions of people around the world. With the story on the Internet it was impossible to contain, and the news spread like wildfire. Harry was on radio duty on the morning of 29 February, when the first reports started to filter through that his cover had been blown. In London Chief of the Defence Staff Sir Jock Stirrup and General Dannatt spent the morning in meetings. They decided to pull Harry out just after midday. Harry's evacuation had already been planned and the SAS troopers had a Chinook waiting to take him to Kandahar. It was too risky to keep him in Afghanistan, especially in the Taliban heartland, where Harry would be a prize trophy. Cornet Wales was given no explanation; he was simply told to pack his bags and informed he was on his way to Camp Bastion, the forward coalition base. He had a few minutes to say goodbye to the men he had served with. 'They were upset, they were pretty depressed for me. They were just like, "It would be nice to keep you here."'

Prince Harry didn't smile as he descended the steps of the RAF TriStar pa.s.senger jet at exactly 11.20 a.m. on Sat.u.r.day 1 March. His ginger beard glistened in the sunlight and he still bore a film of fine desert dust on his weathered skin. His combats were dirty, and he was desperate for a bath and a cooked meal, but he was still gutted to be back so soon. He had flown into RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire with 160 troops including two seriously injured soldiers from 40 Commando Royal Marines. His father, who told reporters of his relief that Harry was safely home 'in one piece', and William were both waiting on the ground for him. 'I didn't see it coming it's a shame,' Harry said when he was asked how he felt about his premature homecoming. 'Angry would be the wrong word to use, but I am slightly disappointed. I thought I could see it through to the end and come back with our guys.'

For a young man who had always had a fractious relationship with the media, he could not help but feel resentful of the press. 'I am very disappointed that foreign websites have decided to run the story without consulting us,' he said. 'This is in stark contrast to the highly responsible att.i.tude of the whole of the UK print and broadcast media.' For once the British press wasn't in the firing line. Prime Minister Gordon Brown described him as an exemplary soldier and said; 'The whole of Britain will be proud of the outstanding service he is giving.' Getting Prince Harry to the front line had been a triumph for the army after the fiasco earlier that year, when the decision to send him to Iraq had been reversed. Two months later on 5 May Lieutenant Wales, dressed in desert camouflage, received a service medal from his aunt Princess Anne, who is colonel-in-chief of the Blues and Royals. Chelsy was seated next to the Prince of Wales, who was wearing the Household Cavalry's burgundy and navy tie, and William at the ceremony at Combermere Barracks. It was the first time Chelsy had been invited to an official engagement and she was delighted to be there. Harry made it clear he had every intention of getting back to the front line as quickly as possible. 'I don't want to sit around in Windsor,' he said. 'I generally don't like England that much, and you know it's nice to be away from the papers and all the general s.h.i.t they write.'

Chapter 16.

Brothers in arms.

The last thing I want to do is be mollycoddled or wrapped up in cotton wool because if I was to join the army, I'd want to go where my men went and I'd want to do what they did. I would not want to be kept back for being precious or whatever, that's the last thing I'd want.Prince William, 2004 From the king-sized canopied bed Kate Middleton could hear the sea lapping on the sh.o.r.e. It was midday and not only too hot to sit out; a plague of sandflies had descended on the paradise island of Desroches in the Seych.e.l.les forcing the couple to seek shelter in their luxury bungalow. Neither William nor Kate complained. It was late August 2007 and the first time they had been completely alone since their break-up in the spring. William had hired out the exclusive five-star Desroches Island Resort, which consists of luxury bungalows looking out over the turquoise Indian Ocean. With a population of fifty and just three miles long, the paradise island was the perfect escape, but just to make sure they could not be spied on the pair had checked in under the names Martin and Rosemary Middleton. Tanned and happy, they spent their days kayaking and snorkelling in the shallow waters of the coral reef and had swimming compet.i.tions in the pool before breakfast.

At night the staff laid a table for two on the sand complete with silver cutlery, crystal gla.s.ses and a crisp linen tablecloth, where they enjoyed fresh fish barbecues and bottles of chilled wine. It was just the two of them, and there was plenty of time for talking and plenty to talk about. After getting back together in June, William and Kate had deliberately kept a low profile. Kate had not sat with William at Diana's memorial concert at Wembley Stadium, nor did she attend the church service at the Guards Chapel. Behind the closed doors of Clarence House, however, William and Kate were seeing each other as often as possible. It had taken just days for the prince to realise that ending their relationship was a mistake, but weeks before Kate agreed to give William a second chance. She had, according to her friend Emma Sayle, been deeply affected by the break-up. 'William was the love of her life, and she admitted that to me, but she said their relationship was hard because they were constantly in the public eye. When they got back together Kate said they had a lot of issues to sort out.' Understandably, Kate wanted a.s.surances from William. They had been together for six years and both of them knew that at some point they had to address the future. For a young man who has an inherent fear of tomorrow this was not easy for William, but the tranquil backdrop of the Seych.e.l.les was as good a place as any to discuss it.

Under a moon so bright it cast their shadows across the beach, William a.s.sured Kate she was the one. For the first time they discussed quite seriously the subject of marriage. William, who had inherited something of his father's fear of commitment, knew he would lose Kate if he could not give her some form of guarantee. 'They didn't agree to get married there and then; what they made was a pact,' a member of their inner circle explained. 'William told Kate she was the one, but he was not ready to get married. He promised her his commitment and said he would not let her down, and she in turn agreed to wait for him.' The problem was William had his career to think about, and while Kate needed rea.s.surance, he also needed to know that she understood everything that came with marrying him. He would always have to put duty first. She loved him, that he knew, but being a royal meant making sacrifices. William was due to spend six months on attachments with the Royal Air Force and the Royal Navy, but that was all to come. For now they were together.

The pact they made that night in Desroches would stand them in good stead. While Harry's career hung in limbo following his return from Afghanistan, William's had been meticulously planned. In September he graduated to troop commander and was now qualified to be deployed to a war zone. He was stationed with D Squadron of the Household Cavalry at Combermere Barracks in Windsor, where he led a troop of twelve men himself plus a sergeant, two corporals and eight troopers and was shaping up as quite the royal soldier or 'combat wombat', as his father affectionately called him. But regardless of how good a soldier he was, William knew he would never fight like Harry, although he had made his intention to go to war clear before he joined Sandhurst: The last thing I want to do is be mollycoddled or wrapped up in cotton wool, because if I was to join the army I'd want to go where my men went and I'd want to do what they did. I would not want to be kept back for being precious or whatever, that's the last thing I'd want. It's the most humiliating thing and it would be something I'd find very awkward to live with, being told I couldn't go out there when these guys have got to go out there and do a bad job.

It was a topic he revisited when he was interviewed by NBC presenter Matt Lauer ahead of the Concert for Diana. When asked about his future career in the armed forces he said, 'What's the point of me doing all my training and being there for my guys when I can turn around to somebody and say, "Well I'm far too important, I'm not going"?'

But William had been advised that he would never be sent to the front line, and when his squadron was deployed to Afghanistan for six months, William was left behind. He found it as difficult as Harry had, but Lieutenant Wales put on a brave face. It was, he said 'for good reasons I was not able to deploy to Afghanistan'. He couldn't wait for the New Year, when he would join the Royal Air Force. Ever since he was a little boy, when he and Harry had been allowed to sit in the c.o.c.kpit of their father's helicopter, William had wanted to fly.

It was freezing cold when he arrived at RAF Cranwell in Lincolnshire on 7 January 2008. William had just returned from a New Year break at Balmoral with Kate, and neither of them knew how long it would be until they were together again. The air force college, which is the oldest in the world, was a bit like Sandhurst impressive from the outside and practical on the inside. The base comprises its own runway, educational facilities, gym, swimming pool and halls of residence including York House, the Grade II listed building where William was to live. This had been named after his great-grandfather Prince Albert, Duke of York (later King George VI), who was appointed to command a squadron at Cranwell in 1918. His room, which measured fifteen feet square, was spa.r.s.ely furnished with a single bed, a fitted wardrobe and a small en-suite bathroom. It was five miles to Sleaford, the nearest town, and a short walk to Cranwell village. All around was the green Lincolnshire countryside.

William's working day started at 8 a.m. and finished at 5.30, when he was free to do as he chose. His father, who had learned to fly at the same base, had warned William there would be little time for socialising. Charles had trained on a Mark 3 Provost and graduated as a flight lieutenant on 20 August 1971. William couldn't resist a smile as he walked past his father's portrait, which hung in College Hall to the left of the Rotunda, on his way to cla.s.s. His father had been right the lessons were hard and William spent every free hour studying and getting to grips with the cardboard cut-out flight deck presented to every officer cadet for training purposes. Unlike most cadets, who train for a minimum of three years before becoming an operational pilot, a fast-track course had been specially prepared for the future king. 'We've adapted his course and cut out anything superfluous because we're not teaching him to be an operational pilot; we're teaching him to be a competent pilot,' said Squadron Leader Kevin Marsh, who oversaw William's attachment.

William had been concerned that he would never realise his childhood dream of learning to fly. Flying in the RAF depends on perfect vision, and William is short-sighted. It could have been a problem, but because he was already a serving officer in the Household Cavalry, he was accepted into the RAF. Like everyone else, he attended the Officers and Aircrew Selection Centre and a medical board prior to his attachment, and he was ordered to wear prescription gla.s.ses. 'William wasn't allowed to wear his own spectacles,' said a senior officer. 'He had to wear MoD-prescribed gla.s.ses, which weren't very attractive.' They did the job, however, and within a fortnight he took to the skies for the first time.

As he took the controls of the Grob 115E William took a deep breath and carried out the final checks. He had been trained by Squadron Leader Roger Bousefield, who had approved his solo flight on the small propeller-driven aircraft, which is used for elementary flying training by the RAF. 'G.o.d knows how somebody trusted me with an aircraft and my own life,' he joked when he was safely back on the tarmac. After completing his elementary training in the Grob, William was sent to RAF Linton in Yorkshire, a two-hour drive from Cranwell. Here he learned to fly the Tucano, a more advanced aircraft. As he had expected, there was little time for Kate, who fitted around his working week, and in March they managed to jet off to Klosters for a week's skiing. The intensity of his tailored fast-track course had its advantages: though Kate got to see little of her boyfriend, there was no repeat of his antics at Bovington, where William would go out for late-night drinking sessions with his platoon. Because of the 'bottle to throttle' rule, which means pilots can't drink alcohol for ten hours prior to any flying duties, there was no bad behaviour at Cranwell, and William limited himself to two pints a day and on some days didn't touch alcohol at all. Occasionally on Thursday nights he and his fellow flying officers would allow themselves an early drink at the nearby Duke of Wellington pub followed by a fish-and-chip supper.

Most weekends he would head home to see Kate. She didn't much fancy the long drive from London to Cranwell, and besides William's mess offered little privacy. When he was half an hour from central London William would call her from his mobile to let her know he was almost home. Kate, who was freely waved in and out of the cast-iron gates of Clarence House had already drawn a hot bath and dinner was in the oven. 'She was almost motherly to him,' one of their friends recalls. 'William would be exhausted when he got back, and after dinner they'd watch a movie together and he'd often fall asleep before the end of it.' Sometimes they entertained at Clarence House, where William and Harry have private quarters. Kate had spent several weeks overseeing a minor refurbishment and had selected fashionable designer wallpaper from Osbourne & Little on the King's Road and encouraged the boys to invest in a cycling machine for a makeshift gym, which they set up in one of the spare rooms.

At weekends they enjoyed cooking traditional English suppers like bangers and mash. Kate would grill the sausages while William mashed the potatoes under strict instructions not to use too much b.u.t.ter. If Harry was around, he was usually on drinks duty. It was the closest William and Kate had come to domestic bliss since their university days, and their friends noted how happy and comfortable they were in each other's company. As Kate darted around the kitchen searching for utensils, William would give her a kiss when he thought no one was looking. He had developed the habit of finishing his girlfriend's sentences, while she had learned to read him better than anyone else. She could tell when he wanted their guests to leave and when to get out the Jack Daniel's because William was in the mood to party. When Harry was home from Windsor they would entertain late into the night.

Their father and grandparents had told them to steer clear of the glitzy nightclubs they loved in London. Harry had been the recipient of numerous death threats posted on Al-Qaeda websites following his return from Afghanistan, and William had been warned to stay away from Boujis. When he and Kate went to the club in October 2007 chaos broke out as they tried to leave. It was the first time they had been seen together in public since their split, and as they left a scuffle broke out among the waiting photographers, who had gathered on the corner of Thurloe Street. There must have been fifty paparazzi hovering outside the club and everyone wanted a picture. Kate was nearly hit by a camera as she clambered into the waiting Range Rover, while a scowling and worse-for-wear William, accompanied by his protection officer, battled through the crush. 'Come on, guys. Let us get in the car,' the prince shouted. One photographer, who had grabbed the car's left-hand wing mirror, was still attached to the Range Rover as it sped off, while some of the others followed the royal party on bikes. William was furious. The fact that the inquest into the death of his mother was still taking place made the hara.s.sment particularly upsetting.

When photographs of the couple were published on the front page of the Evening Standard Evening Standard under the headline B under the headline BOUJIS N NIGHTS A ARE B BACK A AGAIN an aide at Clarence House made a formal complaint. They described the press pack's behaviour as 'incomprehensible' given the coroner was addressing the issue of paparazzi intrusion the night Diana died in Paris that very week. It was a dangerous incident and exposed just how vulnerable the princes were when they went out. The Queen was not impressed. Not for the first time she questioned why her grandsons and their girlfriends were so intent on visiting such high-profile establishments. 'The Queen cannot understand why her grandchildren go to places where they will be photographed and attract attention,' I was told by a family friend. 'Philip has told William and Harry to stay away from Boujis for a bit.' an aide at Clarence House made a formal complaint. They described the press pack's behaviour as 'incomprehensible' given the coroner was addressing the issue of paparazzi intrusion the night Diana died in Paris that very week. It was a dangerous incident and exposed just how vulnerable the princes were when they went out. The Queen was not impressed. Not for the first time she questioned why her grandsons and their girlfriends were so intent on visiting such high-profile establishments. 'The Queen cannot understand why her grandchildren go to places where they will be photographed and attract attention,' I was told by a family friend. 'Philip has told William and Harry to stay away from Boujis for a bit.'

A celebration was definitely in order, however, when William qualified as an RAF pilot on Friday 11 April 2008. He had telephoned his grandmother with the good news before calling Harry to announce that he had a plan to get to the Isle of Wight that weekend for their cousin Peter Phillips' stag party. Like his father, grandfather Prince Philip and great-grandfather George VI, William was getting his wings. It had been decided that the ceremony would take place at RAF Cranwell because it could accommodate the press, who were just as interested in Kate, who would be there for the ceremony. As Air Chief Marshall the Prince of Wales pinned the RAF's prestigious flying badge onto his son's pristine uniform, he smiled broadly before shaking his hand. In 1971, when Charles had graduated, the Duke of Edinburgh had done the very same thing. Dressed in a military-style cream coat and her trademark black knee-high boots, Kate sat in the audience with William's private secretary Jamie Lowther-Pinkerton and the d.u.c.h.ess of Cornwall. Two years earlier she had watched William pa.s.s out at Sandhurst; now he was Flying Officer Wales, and it was only a matter of hours before he would put his new aviation skills to the test.

After completing security at RAF Cranwell, William took the controls of the Chinook. He was heading for a civilian airfield on the Isle of Wight, and the two-hour sortie had been approved by senior flying officers. The rain that morning had cleared and conditions were perfect for the low-level flight south to London. As he steered to the east of the capital through busy civilian airs.p.a.ce, his first landing spot came into view. It had already been cleared for William to land at Woolwich Barracks in southeast London, where Prince Harry was waiting for him. It took an hour for William to fly Harry across the south of England. Below they could see the rush-hour traffic choking up the motorways. At 4 p.m. precisely they touched down at Bembridge Airport on the Isle of Wight, which meant they had plenty of time at the bar. If they had driven, they would still be north of London.

It was quite a story to tell their twenty-nine-year-old cousin and his friends and quite a story for the press. ROYAL S STAG S SENSATION was the was the Sun Sun's front page, while the Mirror Mirror led on F led on FURY O OVER W WILLS' STAG P PARTY J JAUNT. A bitter row was quickly escalating over the cost of the flight. Although the trip had been cleared by the RAF, which described it as a 'legitimate training sortie which tested his new skills', a number of MPs demanded to know why the prince had been allowed to use the 10 million RAF helicopter as his personal transport when there was a shortage in Afghanistan. As far as they were concerned, the flight, which cost 15,000 in fuel, maintenance and manpower, benefited no one other than William and Harry, who had made the journey to the Isle of Wight in record time simply for a party. 'This is serious kit with serious running costs,' said the Liberal Democrat defence spokesman Nick Harvey. 'The public will not appreciate it being used as a stag-do taxi service.'

Clarence House refused to comment, but when it emerged that William had also flown a Chinook to Sandringham and Highgrove and to his girlfriend's house in Berkshire several weeks earlier, the episode descended into farce. Kate and her parents had apparently watched in delight as William, who had flown from RAF Odiham in Hampshire to the Middletons' family home on 3 April, practised taking off and landing in a nearby field. By now the Chinook flights had blown up into a major row at the RAF, where top bra.s.s wanted to know why William's superiors had allowed the sorties, during which two pilots, a navigator and a loadmaster had accompanied the prince. William's requests to 'buzz' his girlfriend and his father and fly to the Isle of Wight had been approved the flights were part of an authorised intensive training course on the Chinook but a senior RAF source admitted, 'We recognise how such activities might be perceived at a time of heavy operational commitments in Iraq and Afghanistan.'

It wasn't the first time William had been criticised for using the RAF as a private taxi service. When he was on work experience at RAF Valley in December 2005 he had flown from Anglesey to RAF Lyneham in Wiltshire in a Hawk jet so that he could collect a pair of boots. Now his Chinook flights had cast a shadow over what should have been one of his proudest military milestones.

As the row over the Chinooks rattled on, the RAF decided it would be an opportune time to send William to Afghanistan. On 26 April 2008 Prince William touched down in Kandahar.

The thirty-hour visit was top secret and only reported once William was safely back in Britain. WILLIAM F FLIES TO TO W WAR Z ZONE ( (AND N NOT A A S STAG D DO I IN S SIGHT!) was the headline in the Daily Mail Daily Mail, which reported the story two days after William had returned to the UK via RAF Lyneham. It was not quite as dramatic as it sounded. William was not qualified to fly the C-17 Globemaster. He did however take the controls during the eleven-hour flight and spent three hours on the ground in Kandahar meeting RAF servicemen. While it was nowhere near as hazardous as Harry's deployment it was still dangerous. Two British servicemen had been killed on patrol at the same base earlier that month and William's army mentor Major Alexis 'Lex' Roberts was killed by a roadside bomb there in 2007. As the main hub for British forces on the ground in Afghanistan, Kandahar Airfield was a prime target for the Taliban, but Clarence House defended the decision to send the prince: 'Prince William has learned a lot about the force's role in theory, so it was important for him to see it put into action.' Essentially the trip was to familiarise him with the work of the RAF in a war zone. He also visited RAF personnel at Al Udeid in Qatar. At least William could now say that he too had been to Afghanistan.

When he returned home on 28 April, it was not for long. Having completed his attachment with the RAF, he was busy preparing for a five-week placement with the Royal Navy on board the frigate HMS Iron Duke Iron Duke, on station in the Caribbean. Kate, who had quit her job at Jigsaw, was once again left in London bored and alone. She had known that William would spend much of the year overseas on attachment and had accepted it, but his punishing work schedule only served to ill.u.s.trate how much spare time she had. The media, who until now had always been kind to her, suddenly noticed that she seemed to be doing remarkably little with her days other than wait for William to propose. It was now that, much to her annoyance, she was nicknamed Waity Katie in the British press. This was unchartered territory and Kate did not know what to do. Up until now she had been the subject of only flattering editorials and hailed as a breath of fresh air for the House of Windsor; moreover there was one person in that very house who had also sat up and taken notice of Kate Middleton.

The Queen, who has always been close to her grandson, had taken an interest in Kate in May when she represented William at Peter Phillips' wedding to Autumn Kelly at St George's Chapel in Windsor. William had already accepted an invitation to the wedding of Jecca Craig's brother Batian in Kenya, and when he asked Kate if she would stand in for him, she agreed. Not only did the decision ill.u.s.trate how close William was to the Craig family, it also served to highlight just how highly regarded and comfortable Kate was in royal circles. Elegant in a black fascinator hat and tailored jacket, she was happy and confident as she mingled with Charles and Camilla and other members of the extended family. Harry had planned to use the wedding to formally introduce Chelsy to the Queen now that their relationship was back on again. Since his return from the front line the pair seemed stronger than ever. They had enjoyed a romantic holiday on a houseboat in the Okavango Delta in Botswana that March, and Harry had excitedly told his grandmother about his African-born girlfriend who wanted to be a solicitor. It was Kate, however, who fascinated the Queen, and when William was inaugurated as a royal knight companion of the Order of the Garter in June that year Kate was there once again watching from the sidelines. As William, in the traditional ostrich- and heron-plumed cap with a blue garter round his leg, processed down the Castle Hill to the annual church service, Kate, supressing a fit of the giggles, watched with Harry from the Galilee Porch. Her appearance at the ceremony of the ancient order generated even more speculation about a possible engagement.

Although they had met several times at formal occasions the Queen knew little of the girl who had enchanted her grandson, and according to sources close to her has never had one-to-one meeting with Kate. Privately she had grave concerns and believed that Kate needed to have a job and an ident.i.ty in her own right before an engagement was announced. 'The Queen is interested in Kate,' disclosed one source close to Her Majesty. 'She was having a conversation with a friend and asked "What is it exactly that Kate does?" It was a fair enough question.'

Since leaving her job as an accessories buyer for Jigsaw at the end of 2007 Kate had toyed with the idea of taking up photography professionally and had kept herself busy compiling a catalogue for her parents' online business Party Pieces. But for a bright girl with a good degree the work was mind-numbingly dull. Kate was actually talented behind the lens and at the end of November 2007 helped curate an art exhibition in London at Bluebird on the King's Road. She was not short of job offers, and the American fashion house Ralph Lauren was one of a number of retailers who were keen to appoint Kate as one of their amba.s.sadors. 'Ralph Lauren had an idea to get Kate on board and there was talk of her doing a job that didn't actually involve much more than dressing up in some nice outfits,' so I was told. The job never materialised, however, which meant plenty of time for William, but unfortunately for Kate the newspapers had decided that her life was one long holiday. If she was not with William at Balmoral then the couple were skiing or holidaying on Mustique. Kate was there so often the press dubbed her 'Queen of Mustique', a t.i.tle that had previously belonged to Princess Margaret. Britain was now in recession and such frivolous displays of wealth were unpalatable to the Queen. She is one of the hardest-working royals, despite her age, and that a future member of the family was without a full-time job was unacceptable to her. While the rest of the world speculated that an engagement was on the horizon for William and Kate, the Queen believed an announcement should be postponed until Kate was settled in a career. 'It is Her Majesty's opinion that if Kate is one day going to be William's consort, then she needs a proper job,' my source insisted. 'Swan-ning from one five-star holiday resort to another is not the prerequisite for a young woman possibly destined to be queen.'

When the story broke on the front page of the Mail on Sunday Mail on Sunday on 1 June 2008 royal bloggers posted comments on Internet forums noting how the tide had turned for Kate. She was stung by the Queen's criticism, but Clarence House advised her not to react and a.s.sured her that the story would go away. On this occasion however Kate ignored their advice and instructed a friend to brief on 1 June 2008 royal bloggers posted comments on Internet forums noting how the tide had turned for Kate. She was stung by the Queen's criticism, but Clarence House advised her not to react and a.s.sured her that the story would go away. On this occasion however Kate ignored their advice and instructed a friend to brief h.e.l.lo! h.e.l.lo! magazine that she was in fact working full-time at her parents' company Party Pieces. Later on a black and white photograph of Kate was posted on the company website, but it was deemed a step too far and within weeks it had been removed from the website. The Queen had quietly suggested that Kate affiliate herself with a charity, and by September she was involved with Starlight, which works with seriously and terminally ill children. William was supportive. He understood better than most the pressures of being in the public eye and was upset that Kate was in the firing line. When she started working for Jigsaw he had told friends he was delighted that Kate was 'finally working in the real world', but he understood it was difficult for her to have a normal job not least because she chose to be at his beck and call, which made a full-time job impractical. It was something Kate's mother Carole described to family friends as an 'impossible situation'. Meanwhile, as Kate worked on a strategy to get herself out of the news, William had decided that he wanted to join the RAF and become a search-and-rescue pilot. magazine that she was in fact working full-time at her parents' company Party Pieces. Later on a black and white photograph of Kate was posted on the company website, but it was deemed a step too far and within weeks it had been removed from the website. The Queen had quietly suggested that Kate affiliate herself with a charity, and by September she was involved with Starlight, which works with seriously and terminally ill children. William was supportive. He understood better than most the pressures of being in the public eye and was upset that Kate was in the firing line. When she started working for Jigsaw he had told friends he was delighted that Kate was 'finally working in the real world', but he understood it was difficult for her to have a normal job not least because she chose to be at his beck and call, which made a full-time job impractical. It was something Kate's mother Carole described to family friends as an 'impossible situation'. Meanwhile, as Kate worked on a strategy to get herself out of the news, William had decided that he wanted to join the RAF and become a search-and-rescue pilot.

The news was made official on 15 September 2008, and Clarence House's announcement took everyone, including the Palace, by surprise. William had spent the summer with the Royal Navy. He had been banned from going to the Gulf because of security fears but had enjoyed his secondment aboard HMS Iron Duke Iron Duke and within days of his arrival had played a key role in seizing 40 million of cocaine in the Caribbean Sea north-east of Barbados. It had been widely a.s.sumed that when he returned he would quit the Household Cavalry and become a full-time working royal, but the young prince had other ideas. 'The time I spent with the RAF earlier this year made me realise how much I love flying. Joining search and rescue is a perfect opportunity for me to serve in the forces operationally.' The British press drew its own conclusions and labelled William a 'reluctant figure-head'. and within days of his arrival had played a key role in seizing 40 million of cocaine in the Caribbean Sea north-east of Barbados. It had been widely a.s.sumed that when he returned he would quit the Household Cavalry and become a full-time working royal, but the young prince had other ideas. 'The time I spent with the RAF earlier this year made me realise how much I love flying. Joining search and rescue is a perfect opportunity for me to serve in the forces operationally.' The British press drew its own conclusions and labelled William a 'reluctant figure-head'.

Joining the RAF meant William could postpone full-time official duties for at least five years. Clarence House was keen to stress that the prince would continue with his charity work, but his commitment would be to his military career. It was a decision he had thought long and hard about and he was certain it was the right one. William had still not ruled out going to war and secretly hoped the job would take him one step closer to the front line. 'In my eyes, if Harry can do it, then I can do it,' he insisted. 'You talk to everyone else and it's impossible. But I remain hopeful that there's a chance.'

He was aware there had been criticism over the brevity of his military attachments. The pressure group Republic had dismissed his secondment with the navy as 'little more than a shallow PR exercise ... all about selling William to the public and promoting the Windsor brand'. They also a.s.serted, 'There is simply no need for the Windsors to serve in the military.' William disagreed. Now was his chance to prove he was committed to a career in the armed forces. The job was risky and the Palace knew the dangers. William would begin training in the New Year, once he had returned from the Caribbean, where he was due to go on his final attachment with special forces. It would mean transferring his commission from the army, where he was a lieutenant in the Blues and Royals, to RAF flying officer, but William had no doubts. Rescuing people was exactly the sort of worthwhile job he wanted to do and would go some way towards compensating for the fact that he might never serve in a war.

The decision, however, would have serious repercussions for his relationship with Kate. According to her friends she was as stunned as anyone when William announced that he planned to join the RAF. Being an army girlfriend had not been quite what Kate had expected, but then with the future king nothing ever was. For William it was the start of an exciting new career; for Kate it would mean a very long wait indeed. The last time William decided to put his career first, the couple had split up. William told her if they survived this they could survive anything. She could only hope that the pledge they had made in Desroches would be strong enough to keep them together.

Chapter 17.

Princes of the future.

For reasons that never cease to amaze Harry and me, we do seem to be able to bring a spotlight to bear on wonderful initiatives created by other people to help others in need.Prince William, January 2010 The clatter of polished silverware and clinking of crystal filled the dining room as the din of excited chatter reached a crescendo. Around the table fifteen young aristocrats dressed in smoking jackets and bow ties and glamorous evening dresses were drinking port. The host Arthur Landon, only son of the late Brigadier Tim Landon and inheritor of a 200 million fortune, liked to do things in style, especially when it came to entertaining royalty. William and Harry had arrived, without Chelsy, at his impressive home in north Yorkshire just before eight o'clock on a wet Friday night in November.

Dinner had been a success. The beef stew had warmed them all up, and the apple crumble had gone down a treat. Among the group were William and Harry's best friends Guy Pelly, Jacobi Anstruther-Gough-Calthorpe and Astrid Harbord, Kate who was poorly with a cold and her sister Pippa. William, who had just got back from the Caribbean, where he had spent five weeks training with the SAS, was deep in conversation with Guy Pelly. As soon as the last course had been served, Guy's girlfriend Susanna Warren, the granddaughter of the late Earl of Carnarvon, the Queen's racing manager and close friend, played a recital on the grand piano and when it was over Mrs Landon announced she was off to bed. She reminded them all to be in the Great Hall for breakfast at 8 a.m. they would need something hot before they went off shooting.

The friends retired to the upstairs games room where Harry was holding court. Some of the group were playing snooker while the prince was busy dispensing shots of vodka to his friends. 'Down the hatch,' he commanded as he poured the alcohol straight from the bottle into Astrid's open mouth. Kate had retired to bed, but William was in no hurry to join her. Arthur had a well-stocked bar and William was regaling his friends with tales of his latest adventure overseas over a pint of lager. He was in high spirits and still sporting a beard, much to Harry's amus.e.m.e.nt. As midnight approached, Guy Pelly announced it was time for the first game. 'You have to get into each other's clothes for half an hour,' he said, pointing at William and a female guest.

It was no wonder the party felt ill the following morning. Kate however was feeling better, and she and William were up at first light. He had promised to take her deerstalking before they all went shooting and Kate couldn't wait. She had learned to stalk on the Balmoral estate in October 2007 with Prince Charles's gillies and was proving an expert shot. She loved the peace and solitude and it wasn't always the kill she was after. She enjoyed the time with William. After all it had been weeks since they had been alone together.

Harry pulled Chelsy towards him and planted a kiss on her lips. They were coming to the end of their nine-day holiday in Mauritius and Harry didn't want it to end. He had flown to the paradise island on Boxing Day after spending Christmas with his family at Sandringham, and splashed out on a 1,000-a-night beachfront suite. Chelsy's parents Charles and Beverley and her brother Shaun were also with them, which helped to take some of the pressure off Chelsy and Harry, who had been arguing recently. Chelsy had been studying hard at Leeds for her finals and they had only seen each other fleetingly. She had decided to stay in London once she graduated in June after being offered a solicitor traineeship with a leading London law firm Allen and Overy, whose co-founder George Allen had advised Edward VIII during his abdication. Chelsy had spent two weeks working in the company's private equity department before Christmas and it was a fantastic opportunity. The problem was, things with Harry weren't going so well. When she returned to Cape Town for Christmas she confided to her best friend Kirsten Rogers that she was beginning to doubt whether she could actually tame Harry. Kirsten liked Harry, but as she pointed out to her best friend it was only a year ago that they last went through a rocky patch and now they were talking about their future again.

Since Harry had returned from Afghanistan the couple had seen little of one another. In July 2008 Harry had flown to Lesotho with twenty members of the Blues and Royals to build a children's school. Then in October he was posted to Canada for a month's training. He rushed home when Chelsy had to have her wisdom teeth taken out in hospital, but before the end of the month he was back in Africa with William taking part in a 1,000-mile motorbike rally from Port Edward on KwaZulu-Natal's southern coast down to Port Elizabeth. The eight-day event, called Enduro Africa '08, entailed motorbiking more than a hundred miles a day in forty-degree heat. It was the perfect chance for the princes to mix adventure with charity work and spend some time together, which they rarely got to do, according to Harry. 'We never really spend any time together we've got separate jobs going on at the moment.' The boys are both accomplished riders. William drives a powerful Honda CRC Blackbird at home, while Harry owns an 8,000 Triumph, but as Harry observed, 'It's not just a bimble across the countryside ... We're expecting to fall off many a time. We've got a secret bet with everybody else about who's going to fall off between us.' It was the first time they had joined forces since organising the concert the year before, and it was worth the sweat and toil. Together they helped raise 300,000 for children's charities in southern Africa including Sentebale.

By Christmas Harry was home and about to embark on the next stage of his army career, training as a helicopter attack pilot with the Army Air Corps. When he enrolled at its headquarters at Middle Wallop in Hampshire on 19 January 2009 a few days after he returned home from Mauritius, it was under a cloud. Video footage of him fooling around with his fellow cadets three years before when he was at Sandhurst had found its way into the hands of a tabloid newspaper. The prince had taken the footage himself and could be clearly heard narrating over the grainy footage recorded on his hand-held camera. As he panned over his colleagues sleeping in the airport while waiting for a flight to Cyprus, where they were going on a training exercise, he zoomed in on his fellow cadet Ahmed Raza Khan. 'Anyone else here?' asks the prince. 'Ah, our little Paki friend.'

The News of the World News of the World published the full transcript of the 'bombsh.e.l.l home video', along with pictures on its front page, nine days before Harry enrolled at Middle Wallop. At one point he could be heard saying to another cadet, 'F*** me, you look like a raghead,' offensive slang for an Arab. During another sequence, filmed at a camp with his fellow cadets looking on, he pretended to be speaking to his grandmother on the phone. 'Send my love to the corgis,' he joked to raucous laughter. 'I've got to go. Got to go. Bye. G.o.d save you ... Yeah, that's great.' published the full transcript of the 'bombsh.e.l.l home video', along with pictures on its front page, nine days before Harry enrolled at Middle Wallop. At one point he could be heard saying to another cadet, 'F*** me, you look like a raghead,' offensive slang for an Arab. During another sequence, filmed at a camp with his fellow cadets looking on, he pretended to be speaking to his grandmother on the phone. 'Send my love to the corgis,' he joked to raucous laughter. 'I've got to go. Got to go. Bye. G.o.d save you ... Yeah, that's great.'

It was only four years since Harry had endangered his army career by dressing up as a n.a.z.i at a fancy-dress party. Now he was at the centre of another race row. His colleague Ahmed, now serving in the Pakistan army, said he had taken no offence, but Harry was still advised by Clarence House to apologise. The story was soon old news. Two days later it was revealed that the Prince of Wales called his good friend Kolin Dhillon, an Indian business man and member of the Beaufort Polo Club, 'Sooty'. Of course Harry should have known better, but even the press concluded he had committed no real crime. 'In battle all that matters is whether Harry would take a bullet to protect his comrade Ahmed. The answer would be an unequivocal yes,' columnist Jane Moore concluded in the Sun Sun, summing up the public mood.

If she was embarra.s.sed by the episode, the Queen did not make it known. Harry had always been the more tr