As he sat at his desk at Swan Street Police station, Constable Peter 'Wolf' Blass's attention was drawn to a light which was moving about mysteriously from the first floor of the disused Swan public house.

" What do you make of that shaft of light?" asked the Policeman to his loyal partner in crime, Isaac Haynes.

" That pub has been shut for three years now...I think we better investigate!"

Like all good cop buddies they never went anywhere unless they were together.

Their combined 60 years service with the South Wales Constabulary, meant that they were on 'light duties' after a terrible car crash in his dog patrol car had left PC 'Wolf' Blass with shattered knees and a guilty conscious, after his dog 'Sniffer' had gone to Doggie Heaven, on account of his swerving to avoid a Cat in Lupin Close.

'The Cat' was in fact a local Gurnos burglar , who was the pair's last recorded arrest, with Sniffer bravely hanging onto the Cat, by his teeth until help arrived.

Isaac Haynes felt that he had been 'shafted' by being paired with Wolf Blass, as he was hoping for an easy last six months, till he got his Police pension.

Boy did he regret losing the keys to the entire Panda Car collection in the Police Compound that night , nothing could move for a whole week , and the boys in blue had to borrow a Police Horse to get around.

They never forgave him at the station, as the Chief Superintendent had used the situation to promote a campaign called 'Heartbeat' , a return to 1960's style on the beat policing , which had ever overweight copper on his case, till he found them at the Briggs Arcade 'Heel Bar' where he had dropped them.

The pair received mercilessly ribbing from the lads, becoming known by the PC incorrect name of 'Car Keys and Crutch'

" Oh it is only a ghost ....said Haynes...the Swan is well known to be haunted... it is one of the oldest pubs in Merthyr!"

" Light Duties ...we were assigned to by the Super...and that was a light!" ordered Wolf Blass with two days superiority over his partner.

" All right!...moaned Haynes...grabbing his Columbo style Gannex....but it is Halloween....that's when ghosts are supposed to walk abroad!"

As the two intrepid investigators passed the blue lamped entrance they headed for the front door of the Pub.

Yvette Fielding and Derek Acorah sat silently in the main bar area of the disused pub...spirits surrounding their every move.

The web cameras whirred and clicked , as their investigations for 'Most Haunted Live 'were beamed live to the Nation, via the wonder of the internet.

In hushed tones, Yvette whispered to Derek " I think I can hear knocking....is it the spirits trying to make contact?"

" Open the bloody door....!" shouted 'Wolf' Blass ...pounding the pub door with his fist... this is the Police!"

" It's times like this when I miss Sniffer....! sighed Wolf Blass, looking at the open aperture at the top of the front window...he would have had them pinned in no time!".

As the door creaked open, the Producer, Karl , stuck his head around the crack in the door , only to receive a receive a size nine boot for his efforts.

" When I say open the door mate....I MEAN OPEN the door!" declared 'Wolf' Blass stepping over the prone figure of the producer and into the pub bar.

"Officer down ....he laughed....your kneecap...has gone again...!" pointed out Haynes as his partner crumpled to the floor .

" It is better...if you remember to let ME do that next time !" declared Haynes twisting his partners leg back into a forward facing direction.

" Allo Allo Allo, what's all this then?!" enquired Haynes looking at the circle of three people holding hands around a wooden bar table.

" Is this one of them swingers parties ....I've read it about in the Police Gazette?" enquired Wolf.

" If you must know I'm a medium!" announced Derek Acorah looking up from the table .

" Well I' m extra large!" declared Haynes lifting his Police issue trousers up to his size 50 waist.

" Do you mind...you are interrupting his concentration...!" declared a stranger stepping out of the shadows , causing both Constables to jump in unison.

" You are interrupting an important scientific experiment, to prove that there is in fact life after death...Mr Acorah here, is not only attempting to communicate with the dead but is hoping to be the only man ever to 'cross over to the side and return' since our Lord did it 2000 years ago.!"

" What about Bobby Ewing in Dallas....?" asked the ever alert Haynsey suspiciously.

" Aren't you Doug Collar....the Running Reverand....former Policeman? Interrupted Wolf Blass running through his photo-fit image in his mind.... " I never forget a face or a sermon!"

" Correct....we are here with the team of Most Haunted Live ...and you are live on Living TV so please do not swear!" continued the Minister.

" So what exactly are you doing in a disused pub at 11.30pm ....do you have a Spirit Licence?" asked Haynes ever the copper.

" We Exorcise!" interjected Yvette Fielding from the table circle.

" Never do it myself!" was the proud boast reply.

" Are those bar prices of £1.25 a shot of whisky still valid?" enquired the prostrate Wolf..." Only I gotta a bad knee see- medicinal like!"

" I thought it was a trick of the light.... announced Haynsey...an optic illusion!" he chuckled at his own joke, pressing up the glass in quick succession and placing his partner's whisky shot on the bar.

As he left £2.50 on the till register, he turned just in time to see the whisky glass move through the air and into the hand of his downed partner .

" Now that's what I call service!" he declared knocking the shot straight down.

" It appears , we are in the company of spirits !" declared Fielding..." Perhaps you gentlemen would help us in our little experiment...it might be handy having independent corroboration!"

As Wolf Blass staggered to the table, the three became five as the circle transformed into a pentagram.

Acorah sat at the Head of the table facing North, Fielding sat next to him together with local priest William Peter Blatty and the two policemen making up the séance party.

" Can you all join hands and be silent ...I will try and make contact with the spirit through my spirit guide...Magua!" announced Acorah dramatically.

" He's from Galon Uchaf isn't he...!" announced Photofit Blass.

" We share a bond!" declared Acorah.

" He's from Galon Uchaf too...!" continued the copper remembering his regular Saturday night charge sheet.

" Sssh...he needs to concentrate....!" snapped Blatty.

" Will you look at that ....!" said an amazed Haynsey....

Emerging from the centre of the ouija board , was a billow of mist and a shining object appeared above the bar table.

" I can see a crystal ball shining...!"announced Haynsey mouth agape

" That's not a ball !" announced the summoned spirit angrily...that's my bald head!....and what's more I tore my hair out working with you pair of clowns!"

" I know that voice....!"said Wolf with some trepidation at the vision before him who seemed to be looking through some kind of round window.

" Your....Inspector Dai Porthole...aren't you...the most feared but respected policeman ever to serve in Merthyr?" continued Wolf nervously.

" I thought I recognised the shining....what do you want with us?" asked Wolf concerned look on his face.

" Well...your drinking on duty for a start...replied the spirit...and you both haven't bulled your boots today.....!" boomed the spirit....but as usual I have come to help you out and save your bacon!"

" Exactly what do you mean....?" asked Haynsey....as I feel that there is going to be a price on this offer of help!"

" I want to help you solve the last of your unsolved cases on your desk before you leave the force, in exchange for one little favour!" offered the phantom.

"Agreed?" said the spirit menacingly.

" Agreed!" stuttered Wolf Blass and Haynesy as one.

" Agreed....SIIIIR...ranking officer on parade!" continued the phantom menace.

" Agreed Siiiir ..!" .said the pair sitting to attention and saluting the dead Chief Inspector.

" Good ...I'll be in touch....other spirits want to come through!" declared Porthole.

As the vision disappeared , Wolf Blass regained his composure and quipped to his partner.

"We'll have to call him Dai Portal-hole now!"

" I heard that !" came the voice from the ether.

Derek Acorah suddenly went into a trance and the glass on the ouija board began to spin wildly.

The gathered gang of five noticed that the glass began to spell out a word....M....Y..

" My...!" offered Haynsey.

...F...A...N..W...Y

" Fanny.... " continued the Policeman...." My Fanny what?"

" MYFANWY....!" declared Acorah , as he suddenly took on the face of the long dead composer Joseph Parry complete with white moustache and grey suit.

" What do you want with us ?" asked Fielding to the new incarnation.

" Those bloody benches...the spirit moaned...with my name on it...outside Nationwide...the ones with the bloody red lights on...I didn't spend weeks composing my songs to have the lyrics stuck up some hooded chavs arse...Dewi Argloed ....!" wailed the spirit.

" If you don't like that you, won't like the run-down 1960's Maisonette they named after you in Caedraw!" offered Wolf Blass

" We have a Doctor Who Court ?" asked Haynsey

" No ....that's not William Hartnell...it's Joseph Parry....the musician....you fool!" laughed Wolf Blass.

" So what's he doing now...if he is dead...is he DE- Composing!" chuckled Haynsey getting into the 'spirit' of the party.

A ghost baton made of ectoplasm suddenly cracked Haynsey on the head before departing.

Acorah's face began to change once more this time into a woman's face.

"Look !" declared Haynsey at the medium chameleon.

The table started to lift mysteriously , on the side of Wolf Blass without any apparent force.

" That's Loretta Swit...Hot Lips herself from MASH ...didn't you have a crush on her once Wolfie!"

" How do you think the table is lifting?" offered a red- face Peter embarrassed by the appearance of his Policeman's Helmet .

" I thought I'd seen the last of 'Blue Peter' !" declared Yvette fielding off some ectoplasm.

The face changed again, to that of the famous medium, Helen Duncan who was known as the Blitz Witch.

The atmosphere changed from one of mirth to one of fear.

" You police...you locked me up under the Witchcraft Act....accused me of being in league with Lucifer...and all because I predicted the sinking of HMS.(Classified)........during the Second World War.....you police...are always getting the wrong guy.....WINSTON SILCOTT, BARRY GEORGE, COLIN STAGG, and my little friend here TIMOTHY EVANS from Merthyr Vale...he wants me to curse you all....!" the spectre fired a blue spark of electric light from her fingertips towards Wolf Blass, but fortunately his disability helped him , as his sudden movement on his dodgy knee and shifting weight shattered the rickety bar chair on which he sat .

The bolt missed him, but rebounded off the pub mirror and struck the head of Priest William Peter Blatty turning his hair whiter than his own dog- collar.

As the Blitz Witch disappeared into the writhing body of Acorah there was a mass sigh of relief.

" Can you smell that Evil?" asked Yvette.

" No that's just Wolfy....declared Haynsey...I've spent many a rugby trip in Ireland with him to know when he's dropped one!"

" Sorry about that....!"offered the reappearing spirit of Inspector Porthole.

" Like you boys in the constabulary, we go round in pairs up here....I tried not to let that Witch through , but she has a way with us Navy types!"

" Anyway, you wanted me to help you clear up some unsolved local crime?" asked the Inspector....." I am always happy to help the police with their enquiries"

Looking down at his Police Note pad...Haynsey put on his best Witness Box Voice and started to read out.....

Unfortunately, by the time he had got to the right page, the medium had transformed into another spirit.

" Where am I....?" declared the one- eyed sailor looking around furtively for cannonballs.

" One minute I am kissing Hardy on the ass on the deck of the Victory ...the next I am strapped to a hairy Welshman ........where am I?" announced Lord Horatio Nelson

" In the Swan ....Merthyr Tydfil....South Wales....!" offered Yvette calmly.

" Merthyr Tydfil.... I stayed there after Trafalgar, down by the Lucy Thomas Fountain......they even named a pub after me in Pontmorlais....where's it gone?" demanded the apparition.

" Closed.....said Wolf Blass.....along with most pubs in Merthyr Tydfil....like the Crystal Palace, The Talbot, the Rose N Crown, The Gurnos Tavern, Matchstick Man, Gwynnes Arms, The Lamb, the Beehive, Castle Vaults, The Wheatsheaf , the Kings Arms, the Western, The Eagle , the Tydfil Arms......."

As the pub names were called , Haynsey sobbed like a mourner at a funeral at the passing of each boozer.

"You know why all those pubs closed.......none of them sold that wonderful Rhymney Brewery Bevan 's Bitter....now that's what you call 'Real ale'....pass me my Police CAMRA!" declared Wolf Blass...splashing his pint down on the table in doing so showering the spirit.

" That's one in the eye for me...must go... my support act wants a word!" declared Lord Nelson

" Hello Boyos...it's me Ray Gravell....what's happened to my beloved Parc Y Stradey .....they knocked it down and built a new stadium....how will they fill that ...I'm Scarlet with rage....they promised me they would name a stand after me....and they only named one entrance in my honour...imagine calling it the 'Gravell Path indeed'.....I'm hopping mad...!"

As the face disappeared , all the talk of old Merthyr Pubs had made the Running Reverand sentimental...."What about the most famous one pub of all...the one on Glebeland Street.....named after our once great heritage of railways in Merthyr .... The Narrow Gauge...... !" sighed the Holy Man

" I thought that was named after the number of shotgun weddings we had in the town!" proffered Wolf Blass.

" That boys.....was the best run pub in Merthyr Tydfil !" continued the Rev

" When I was a copper I did enjoy drinking its fine ales.!"

" As it was a pub known to police its own , popular with the Labour Party and the LVA , the landlord and landlady Dick & Peggy were given carte blanche to operate ....in the days of strict opening hours....they were given advance warning of police raids....many a time me and the other boys in blue hid on the floor behind the bar covered in coats ..... !"

"I too did some of my best undercover work there!" sighed Haynsey

" I heard that!" ....said Dai Porthole re-emerging on the face of the Medium

" He is being re-possessed!....there's a lot of that about in Merthyr" declared Wolf Blass.

" Now .....a Police Order is a Police Order....and I'm here to help you clear up those unsolved Merthyr crimes...but remember the ether is like a shortwave radio and there is a bit of a wavy signal....if you imagine the crystal ball as being a primitive search engine...trying to connect to the spiritual internet....we are not broadband but dial up and there is a lot of spam...besides the rules of 'the other side' prohibit me giving straight answers...a bit like a politician on Question time....or Haynsey in the Witness box....okay!"

" Firstly, ...oldest murder on Merthyr books.... local Brecon girl murdered near the Parish Church, Lower High Street on her way back home from Tanglwst Aberfan ....one.....Tydfil Brychan...any leads?" asked Haynsey.

" Irish....pair of brutes ....BOBO & MAGWAR.... Pict on her... long since dead...close case!" replied the Spectre.

" Fight in old Tesco store in early 1980's...who was involved?" asked Wolf Blass.

"Ouiji bored....Corned Beef wars...double cross....'Princes' of the aisles...tins of soup...blood stained all- weather tee-shirt?" blurted the spirit.

" Who was the Gwernllwyn Close flasher... who stuck his old boy through the letter boxes?" continued Haynsey.

" Dowlais.....guess who's coming...foreskin still in door...tip off....try ARTHUR COX. Penydarren!" wailed the banshee.

" Abercanaid. 2008 ...body of de-selected Local Party candidate...found...shot, drowned and stabbed five times in the back.... marked suicide on Police records... asked Wolf Blass.

" I'm Labour in to answer that one!" was the spectral reply.

" Tiny body found in Gurnos buried near front door...any concrete ideas who it is...?" quizzed Haynesy

" Step-son" was the cryptic reply.

" How much did the Council lose on the Quo concert....£200,000.00K? asked Wolf Blass.

" Down, down deeper and down....!" was the rocking reply.

"Lynette White Inquiry ...?" asked Haynsey.

"Hooker...Scrum Half...touchdown...ruck...balls up...no result" said the voice from the ether .

" Who stole our Isambard Kingdom Brunel Railway Station ?" said Wolfie

" Great Train robbery....see Ronnie Biggs at the Welsh Office!" was the reply.

" How do Merthyr Football Club can get a crowd of Four Thousand for the Walsall game and 221 average British Gas Premier game?" quizzed Haynsey.

" That's one crime ...I can't solve!" replied the sprite.

" Thanks Dai...our enquiries are complete!" said Wolf Blass.

" Now to you completing your part of the bargain!" declared the spirit.

" Well if you want our souls ...we sold them years ago to the God Bacchus !" laughed Wolf Blass.

" And if George Best wants either of his livers back, he'll have to fight us both for them .....snapped Haynsey losing his fear of the Inn spectre.

" I want you to arrest the medium....Derek Acorah!" ordered the deceased Copper.

" On what grounds...? asked Fielding shocked.

" Being the worst actor since Ben Affleck in Pearl Harbour.... Impersonating a policeman....being over the spirit limit...(and nodding at the white haired clergyman.).... and a bleach of the priest.!"

Acorah suddenly broke from the trance and legged it passed the two Coppers and up the stairs to the first floor before they could move.

As the Grandfather Clock struck 12 midnight ' The Witching Hour' brought the remaining hair on Wolf Blass neck and back to attention.

A blood- curdling scream came from the medium, as the Most Haunted crew and the two policeman made their way to the first floor.

Pushing Wolf Blass in front of him...Haynsey opened the door to the guest room to find it was completely empty save for one leather brogue- style shoe which sat in the exact centre surrounded by a chalk pentagram.

The Most Haunted Live Team were worried about the disappearance of Acorah but excited about the prospect that Acorah had finally crossed over.

" Check his shoe for his message!" demanded the Producer eagerly expecting great viewing figures.

" Are there any words inside?" asked a nervous Fielding.

" Just one....!" said Wolf Blass dejectedly realising he had lost his last chance of a 'collar'

" Tuf!" came his reply.

“C’mon Mun….it will be an internet sensation!” said 16- year old Brecon Farmer Kane Boddy.

His older brother Abel wasn’t so sure.

He preferred to trust his own judgement rather than his brothers.

The pair sat astride their skidoos on the peak of Pen Y Fan, the highest mountain in the Brecon Beacons National Park.

Kane had his mobile phone out ready to film the stunt- if only he could persuade his brother to do it.

“It’s only 886 metres Mun…straight down from the ‘Col’ to Cribyn…it will be Hell of a ride!” said Kane trying to cajole his Brother.

As most people know, when you have a pair of identical twins – one is born usually good and the other evil.

Or as in this case Evel.

The brothers had been out helping feed their Father’s sheep, on the side of the mountains in the worse snowfall in Wales since 1958.

After a week of blizzards, which had swept in from across the Atlantic and down from the Arctic Circle- the highest points of the Welsh Valleys had been covered in nearly six feet or snow and in some places the drifts were as high as ten feet.

Cars were completely buried, with snow ploughs having to be employed for the first time for a number of years.

Once again, the Local Authorities at Powys & Merthyr were caught napping - although in their defence it WAS Early May.

The sight of the Brecon Beacons covered in a white blanket, was the money shot that sold postcards in the nearby Towns of Brecon and Merthyr- but to trainee hill farmers it was a nightmare, as they had to get feed to inaccessible places, so that their sheep would not starve.

Their flock were more like family members than livestock, Kane & Abel saw them more like pets than commodities- each one having a distinctive name and cry.

The brothers having spent all their young lives around the sheep had become very attached to them- in more ways than one.

To be a sheep farmer in the valleys you have to be resilient, strong and resourceful.

Neither Kane nor Abel possessed such wisdom or acumen and their father feared for the future of his farm, as the boys could best be described in farming terminology as a little ‘twp’.

Who else would ride their heavy skidoos so close to the edge of the mountain ridge when the snow had been drifting.

Unbeknown to Abel, whilst he had decided to take the moral high ground from his Brother, he was in fact parked above him on three foot of frozen ice and soft snow which hung perilously over into the Col of the second highest mountain in Wales.

Perhaps, if he had taken the advice of Heavy Rock band Steppenwolf and kept the motor running, he might had stood a chance, but suddenly the floor collapsed below him, the combined weight of one man and his skidoo and of course gravity, sent him flying through the air, like the cartoon character Wily Coyote on a floating rock above a canyon drop.

Abel’s face went a whiter shade of pale and his underpants merged with the skidoo.

Kane suddenly realised what was happening and a look of horror shot across his face, as his chemical sheep- dip damaged brain processed the fact that his brother was in serious trouble- but even so like all youngsters who do not see danger, he kept filming the episode on his camera-phone- then his thoughts turned to his own safety, as the white snow drift he was perched on started to collapse over the edge too.

Luckily for him, he made it back to firmer ground- but only by a matter of inches and he suddenly realised that he needed to send his leather biker trousers to the dry cleaners.

In what seemed like slow motion- his Brother still sat astride his skidoo, disappeared out of sight in a snow cloud and white spray.

Kane was frantic- his Father would kill him-if he found out about his dare.

It was almost like it had been written down somewhere that he would kill his brother.

What did he do?

Go for help or join in his brother’s fate by leaping over the side after him?

As much as Kane loved his Brother- he wasn’t as brave as he thought he was, and staring into the Abergavenny facing abyss- his courage had deserted him.

He decided that discretion was the better part of valour and set off down the Storey Arms side of the Mountain, towards the A470 and civilisation, in the hope that someone could get hold of the Brecon Beacons Mountain Rescue Team and an air ambulance.

Falling through the air at nearly 100MPH, Abel’s short sixteen year old life flashed before his eyes.

He always wanted to get a ton-up on his vehicle but not like this.

Everything around seemed to slow down and blur- with a second feeling like an hour, as he and his skidoo plummeted off the top of Pen Y Fan , partially obscured by a white snow cloud.

Was it his brain preparing him for impact?

Or was there really a God?

Abel ‘s mind raced almost as fast as the skidoo, as he tried to think of a survival technique.

What if he was to time it just right and push his legs up off the skidoo, a split second before impact?…just like the Roadrunner in the Warner Brothers cartoon managed to do?

Abel felt like he was riding a white comet bound for Earth as he pushed with all his might and tried to jump sideways.

He wished he had paid less attention to cartoons as a kid and listened more in his school physics lessons about the effect of centrifugal force, as he was unable to move.

Skidoo and Youth just made a massive seven foot impact crater which was soon covered by falling snow from above.

Abel was knocked unconscious by his own knees and when he awoke in serious pain, he realised he was now in the yoga position of dwi pada sirsasana or ‘the silent frog.

Both his legs had become lodged behind his shoulders and he looked like a lady-boy contortionist on it’s Honeymoon.

He was trapped in a snow prison of his own making, surrounded by soft snow that very quickly would turn to ice.

Whilst Abel was in constant pain and aware that he had broken several bones in the fall, he was surprised to find that like his pet Jack Russell terrier at home, he was now capable of licking his own balls.

He was still Abel Boddy but no longer able bodied.

He looked around him at the air pocket that had luckily formed around him and his bike and tried to think rationally.

What would Bear Grylls do in this situation?

After he had finished panicking- he decided that he must try and reach the roof of the ice ‘cave’ to drill a hole for oxygen to pass in.

He estimated he had a maximum of twenty minutes before the snow solidified into ice and around ten more before the oxygen ran out and he would be found dead by the rescue services.

He needed something to punch a hole in the ceiling with but it was difficult, as he had been concertina'd and looked like a tin can crushed on a road by the weight of a passing car.

The only thing he had in his pocket was a silent whistle that he used to call up the sheep with.

A high pitched frequency only audible by animals- given to him by an award winner Sheepdog Trainer at the Royal Welsh Show- who had warned him to use it sparingly.

He reached it and blew it as hard as his punctured lungs would allow.

Kane skidded to a halt outside the ‘Gnat Free Lodge’ and rushed in to use the telephone.

He was picked up by his lapels and booted out.

His ‘sort’ wasn’t welcome at this five star establishment.

His protestations were ignored by the bar staff.

It was an absolute rule- no person was allowed in the building in the afternoon without a cravat.

No one in working clothes or especially Wellington boots were allowed in EVER.

Kane was beside himself with worry – until he remembered that there was a special call box near the Storey Arms for the Rescue Team.

He kick-started his skidoo and made his way back up the A470 towards Brecon.

His young brain was puzzled by one odd event.

Why were there so many dogs heading in the same direction?

Abel sat hunched on own partially collapsed ribcage.

He was trying to make peace with God- in the belief he was going to die.

He knew that if he slipped back into unconsciousness he would not survive his ordeal.

He tried to think positively despite the fact he had a bird’s eye view of his own bollocks.

He tried desperately to relive the games of snooker in his mind, that he had played out with his brother in an effort to stay conscious and not slip off into eternity.

Suddenly, he thought he heard a sound from above him.

Was it his imagination running riot caused by the lack of oxygen?

He HAD been talking to his own nuts for the last thirty seconds after all.

The scraping sound came again.

It got louder and louder until finally a small hole appeared above him in his ice prison.

A tiny amount of oxygen filtered in and Abel’s damaged lungs let out a sigh of relief.

It was followed by a small piece of woolly tubing.

It was only an inch in diameter but it acted like a chimney.

It looked like a ‘Ewe Tube’.

“Praise be to the Lamb of God!” said Abel suddenly rediscovering his religion.

His teenage mind tried to rationalize events.

Who the Hell could be on the mountain in this weather?

A second hole which appeared above him answered his question.

He looked up and saw a glazed sheep eye staring back at him.

His pet sheep Dolly must have come to his rescue in true ‘Lassie’ fashion.

The hole got bigger as the ovine tried desperately to claw at the ground with her hooves.

Who ever said sheep were stupid animals had clearly never met the indomitable, resourceful Dolly he thought.

“ Well Hello Dolly!” shouted Abel trying to keep himself focused.

He was sure that she answered him back in a human voice muffled by the six inch solid frozen igloo roof.

As the temperature like Dolly dipped suddenly, the snow turned to ice and making the hole larger proved to be difficult for the ovine rescuer.

“ Are you in it?” the sheep bleated.

This was interpreted by Abel as questioning whether he was of Eskimo stock.

“ Inuit?....no… I’m from Brecon mun!” he asked talking to his blue testes.

“ Am I going nuts…nuts?”

He thought the lack of oxygen and the acute pain of his injury was making him hallucinate and hear things too.

Above the warm confines of his igloo, the wind had picked up and was howling like a wolf around the bleak landscape of the Brecon Beacons.

From below Abel could with a squint make out Dolly looking around nervously at the sound, but like Nipper the HMV dog , the Sheep doggedly refused to leave his side or Her Masters Voice.

What Abel didn’t know was that Dolly wasn’t Dolly at all but a lost SAS applicant, that had lost his bearings in the blizzards and subsequent avalanche of snow whilst doing the military version of the ‘Fan Dance’- an Army exercise to determine the physical quality and mental resolve of recruits.

He had witnessed the accident and decided that the life of the young farmer was more important than any Army examination.

His Regiment had decided that rather than risk fatal dehydration again in the Summer Months for squaddies on Penyfan, Cribbyn and Corn Du they would use the Spring and Winter Months instead.

They still had to carry an 18 kilogram Bergen backpack, rifle and water bottle but as an added weight – a proper sheepskin as camouflage.

SAS now stood for Soldiers As Sheep.

Their unofficial slogan to get one up on the Royal Navy was – ‘Be the Beast- and beat the best’

There was much competition between the different arms of the Armed Forces.

It was a handy drill too, as preparation for the soldiers for those long nights in the Northern Iraqi desert, when the temperatures dipped way below zero and with no wife back home in Wales to cuddle up to - it was an essential to slip into a woolly jumper and stay out of sight of the enemy.

The 21 year old hopeful, Monty Redcapp, sighed knowing his act of heroism would be interpreted and punished as a sign of weakness.

Whilst his Drill Sergeant’s may wear the words ‘Help is for Heroes’ on their chests- for this act of individualism -his reward would be peeling more spuds than the Busy Bee Chip Shop in Merthyr did in a year- or cleaning the Officers Mess- which had been interpreted by Army Regulations in Brecon -as licking out with his tongue the Captain’s toilet bowl once again.

The rest of his Unit had carried on regardless- despite the three months of brainwashing – the remainder of his Civvy Street conscience would not let him forget the parable of the ‘Good Samaritan’.

He would not leave an avalanche victim die of asphyxiation or exposure- even if his own life or future career depended upon it.

In the distance, he could hear much barking and howling he could make out black shapes heading at speed towards him.

Now Private Redcapp wasn’t scared of anything in Civvy Street- except dogs that is.

He had developed ‘Cynophobia’ after his Mother had read him a tale from the Mabinogion about Gelert the dog when he was only five years of age.

His soldier Father had died in a football hooligan attack by Blackburn ROVERS at the Wolverhampton Wanderers Ground –Molyneux- in the bad old terrace days of the 1980’s and he had suffered flashbacks ever since.

His psychiatrist had cured him for a while – until his squaddie mates had rented comedy horror film ‘Dog Soldiers’ which had brought back all his night terrors.

The barking got louder as over the snow covered hill like Zulus at Rorke’s ‘Drift ‘- the pack of dogs headed toward the fleece- covered soldier.

It seemed like every dog within ten miles wanted in on the act.

Down in the ice prison, in an effort to stay awake, Abel blew his dog whistle as loud as he could.

It was silent to humans, but was of such a high pitch it was irresistible to canines.

The power of the patented ‘Wolf Whistle’ was not lost on its Merthyr inventor, but had not been a commercial success, as it turned Man’s best friend into Man’s worst enemy, as the frequency sent dogs rabid with desire to stop the sound .

They acted like moths mesmerised but compelled to put out a naked flame.

In the Cefn Coed Simbec laboratory, the test subjects had been known to kill to stop it.

In addition, seeing a solitary sheep lost on the hillside was too big a temptation for the pack of animals.

Legally speaking, the dog pack was banned from hunting animals on private land but the animals themselves didn’t know or care.

But they were a big ‘worry’ for the SAS soldier.

The big question for Private Redcapp was could he stop enough of the ‘Charge of the Bite Brigade’ before they ripped out his throat?.

He didn’t want to see his own version of ‘pink mist’.

He lowered his rifle and took aim.

He pretended he was back on the firing range at Sennybridge shooting at the enemy insurgent targets, as a burst of semi- automatic rifle fire took out the Dalmatian at the front, adding red spots to his black ones.

Another burst and the leading whippet took a fatal bullet in between its ribs.

The greyhound at the front was moving way too fast, so he concentrated on laying down cover fire at the body of the pack- who collapsed with yelps and squeals, as they ate more lead than a swan on Cyfarthfa Park lake.

As long as the pack stayed together, Private Redcapp had a chance.

Unfortunately for him, the more brighter dogs- the Lurchers and Golden Retrievers- being used to gunfire , as they were GUN dogs -broke from the pack in separate directions to outflank the Ovine Officer Material.

The Jack Russell’s had gone down on their bellies crawling- like they were on the local army assault course- to keep low and minimise the target.

Above the din of the battle, Private Redcapp could hear the distinctive sound of an incoming chopper.

He just hoped that his air support would arrive in time to save him.

The Air Ambulance dispatched from the Queen Camilla Hospital had not witnessed such carnage before.

There was more blood on the ice than a Canadian Seal Pup Clubbing convention.

From above, the helicopter crew was shocked at what was going on.

US Army veteran ,  Pilot Hawke Downe was stunned at the scene below.

He was a veteran of the Somali conflict and had seen some real action.

They thought they had seen everything in the Valleys, but this was their first sheep with an automatic rifle gunning down a pack of mad dogs.

It was Apawcalpyse Now, as ‘Lambo’ sprayed the howling dogs with lead.

They were expecting to aid the search for an injured farmer, not witness the killing fields of Caninebodia.

From the air- they could make out the shape of a Red Setter wearing a blood stained second placed rosette from Crufts Dog Show, no longer moving ‘like Jagger’.

The pack had now completely encircled the sheep who was firing at the closest dog to him.

He kept wheeling in a circle frightened that he would leapt upon and tore to pieces from behind.

The pile of dead Afghans and Russian Borzois grew until the moment the pack had been waiting for.

The click of empty bullet chamber on the rifle.

Private Redcapp now knew he was as good as dead.

“ C’mon land will you….relieve me like in South Africa…or I Mafeking dead!” he said to the Helicopter Pilot under his breath.

Down below in his ice cave, Abel heard the gunfire and the sound of the helicopter overhead but was still unable to move…all he could do was blow hard on his whistle to try and attract attention.

Little did he know that his rescuer needed rescuing.

The Pilot and paramedic were too frightened to land, it was against the rules of their NHS Health & Safety Manual-so decided the best course of action was to film it on their mobile camera-phones and upload it to the internet instead.

The short film ‘Ewe Tube’ had over 100 hits in seconds- as did Private Redcapp.

Ironically, it was the badly named German Shephard, that lunged at the brave squaddie and tore out his throat and the rest of the frenzied bunch ripped him apart like an unlucky fox in the Taf Fechan Boxing Day Hunt.

Normally battle scene bravery is confined to secrecy, but thanks to the action of the Pilot, the bravery of the Private in his last stand was recorded on film on the internet for posterity.

For his gallant actions, Private Redcapp was awarded by the Army not only the Victoria Cross and the Distinguished Service Medal but also Royal Welsh Best in Show.

Unfortunately, the British Government received writs and legal claims from compensation from the dog owners so ‘cruelly’ killed by Private Redcapp.

The redtop newspapers had named Redcapp -as the ‘bone gunman’.

As for poor Abel Boddy, his remains were never found.

His brother Kane inherited the Farm and his Brothers Birth-right.

The Helicopter Pilot made two million pounds from the video and is now working as a Director in Hollywood, California.

Scene of the action - Pen Y Fan in snow by Oakfield Photography