PETAWAWA, ONT. — An assault by special forces troops is designed to deliver “maximum shock value” to disorient and overwhelm an enemy force.

On this day, it doesn’t disappoint.

The sharp crack of the sniper’s rifle signals the start of the synchronized “attack.” In two shots, the camouflaged sniper — invisible in the bushes and pine trees — takes out the sentries.

A Humvee — looking like something borrowed from the famed Desert Rats of the Second World War with its mounted .50-cal. machine gun — lays down covering fire. A helicopter pops up over a wooded ridge, swoops in and slows to a hover as seven special forces soldiers fast-rope to the ground.

There’s a quick staccato of gunshots as the troops move from one building to the next. Other Humvees roll in to lay down additional fire.

In mere minutes, the “assault” is over.

“I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of these guys. Trust me,” said Maj. Alain Matteau, a special forces helicopter pilot.

The camp was a collection of plywood buildings, the “enemy sentries were metal targets. But the ammunition was real, as it usually is, to enhance the realism.

“We have to be ready to go. In other words, we don’t have one week, three weeks, two months to prepare. So training in as realistic an environment as possible is something that we must do,” said Maj.-Gen. Mike Rouleau, commanding officer of the Canadian Special Operations Forces Command.

In April, the Toronto Star and CTV News were given exclusive access to the special forces mission in northern Iraq — where Canadians are training Kurdish peshmerga soldiers — and, later, their facilities at Garrison Petawawa in eastern Ontario.

On this June day, amid the landscape of hills and trees that make up the sprawling military base, these soldiers are in the final stages of training to become members of the Canadian Special Operations Regiment, one of the units that makes up Canada’s special forces command.

The command, which marks its 10th anniversary this year, was created in 2006 to add special forces capabilities around the one unit that existed at the time, Joint Task Force 2 (JTF2).

Today, the command is comprised of JTF2; the special operations regiment; the Canadian Joint Incident Response Unit, trained to respond to chemical, biological, radiological and nuclear incidents; and 427 Special Operations Aviation Squadron, whose pilots have the flying skills to deliver the soldiers by helicopter to a target, often at night.

In total, it has just over 2,000 personnel and an annual budget for operations and maintenance of $85 million, not including capital expenditures.

“We are still growing, we are still maturing the capability ... Now we just need to flesh them out with more capacity,” Rouleau said.

A mystique has arisen around special forces, fuelled by Hollywood depictions of American missions, such as the one in 2011 that killed Al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden in Pakistan and another that freed Richard Phillips, captain of a container ship, who was being held captive by Somali pirates.

Canadian special forces have their own tales of heroism with bravery medals and mention in dispatches that all remain under wraps, at least for now.

But the movie mythmaking hasn’t all been good. Commanders grate under the depiction that special forces are rogue elements, operating with little oversight. Though many of its activities are out of the public eye — and public debate — Rouleau says there are “exceptionally strong levels of governance.

“We don’t do anything that is unsanctioned by the head of the Canadian Armed Forces and obviously the (chief of defence staff) operates firmly within the boundaries of Government of Canada policy choices,” he said.

The movies have also left many with stereotype notions about the role of special forces.

“When people think of special operations forces, they immediately think of rough and ready men running around in the night shooting people,” Rouleau said.

“It’s important to underscore the fact that a lot of the work that Canadian Special Forces Command does doesn’t involve gunfire,” he said.

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“It is sending smart people into complex areas and being able to provide ground truth or information back so senior leadership can make better informed decisions. So it’s not all kinetic,” Rouleau said.

Special forces are an enticing force of choice for governments. They can be deployed quickly and dispatched in small numbers unlike the deployment of conventional army units, which often involves bigger and longer-term commitments.

The operators who serve with Canada’s special forces describe a hectic pace.

“It’s a busy lifestyle ... We’re constantly training or involved operationally in places around the world,” one special forces major told the Star.

Some of those deployments are known, like the current training mission in northern Iraq where special forces troops are assisting Kurdish peshmerga forces. There is also training with military and police in Jamaica and annual participation in the U.S.-led Exercise Flintlock, involving special forces units from across Africa.

Yet other deployments are kept under wraps.

“We are in the crisis in Iraq, obviously. But beyond that we are trying to get ahead of problems by working with partner forces in different parts of the world, primarily in North Africa,” Rouleau said.

Much of that training work falls to the special operations regiment, led by Lt.-Col. Steve Hunter. And the training in these locales goes both ways. As Canadian soldiers teach military skills, they are also learning the local culture and customs.

“By getting engaged earlier ... we’re not only building partner capacity with those host nation forces, keeping threats at bay, we’re also developing our own situational awareness and understanding,” Hunter said in an interview.

The special forces has its own “schoolhouse” that sits behind a fence and guardhouse at the Petawawa military base. In a testament to the growth of the command, the training centre just four years ago is bursting at the seams.

There’s a 45-day course to be a signaller, 55 days on mountaineering skills, even an 11-day course to learn how to move using pack animals for transport.

In a nearby parking lot, special forces medics practice advanced medical skills, honing skills to treat traumatic injuries and tend to patients for the extended time it might take to get them to a medical facility.

On this day, the scenario is an explosion on a bus. Patients — many dressed up with realistic-looking wounds — are carried off the bus. Injuries are triaged and treatment begins.

In a nearby field, a group of CSOR soldiers is learning how to teach military tactics and techniques — the very role they are doing in Iraq.

Lt.-Col. Chris Allen is commanding officer of the Canadian Special Operations Training Centre. With 31 years of service, he’s like the headmaster.

The training puts an emphasis on problem solving, critical for soldiers serving in a small team far from the chain of command, he said.

“That’s impressed on the junior leaders going out the door, the importance of what you are doing and the decisions you are making,” Allen said.

That’s even more important in today’s social media age when an incident on the far side of the globe can very quickly reverberate on Parliament Hill, he said.

“So those level tactical decisions made by a junior leader instantaneously have repercussions at the strategic level for government,” he said.

Allen, a veteran operator, said Canada’s special forces soldiers are “very good.”

“With humility, I can say that. I’ve seen many, many special forces around the world ... Person-to-person, we are easily on par with any of our key allies,” Allen said.