CHAPTER 6

Deployment

An infantry battalion comprises three rifle companies, a support company, and a headquarter Company. Each rifle company consists of three platoons, with a platoon comprising three sections and a platoon headquarters. Each company has its own headquarters element consisting of the officer commanding (OC), the second-in-command (2IC,) the company sergeant major (CSM), the company quartermaster sergeant (CQMS) and his storemen who are responsible for the organisation and issue of the company’s stores, rations, ammunition and equipment.

I was in D Company, which comprised the sniper, reconnaissance, mortar, machine gun and anti-tank platoons. The latter were always referred to as the Javelin Platoon, that being the name of missile system with which it was equipped. The Javelin is a fire-and-forget system; locking on to the target whilst still in its launching tube and then tracking it during flight right up to the moment of impact and detonation It is a really good bit of kit, albeit each missile costs £40,000. During the coming months our battle group would fire 142 of these missiles during operations in Afghanistan. You don’t need a calculator to work out that particular of the cost of war. We were shown film footage of a Javelin destroying an old tank to give us an idea of the destructive power of the weapon. On watching it Caz said, ‘I don’t quite know what I was expecting, maybe the Monty Python foot to come down or something.’

The fire support groups (FSG) that made up D Company were attached to A, B and C companies, with my own supporting B Company. We spent a few weeks packing all of our kit and handing in our MFO boxes with ‘comfy kit’ which would be transported by sea to Afghanistan. Meanwhile we took two weeks pre-deployment leave.

I saw a lot of my family during this leave. We all knew I was going into a real war zone and that inevitably there would be casualties. I remember my brother saying, ‘Don’t be a hero. Just do your job, nothing more and nothing less.’ Having to say goodbye to my girlfriend Annie was very hard and although we had been apart before, through the Iraq tour and exercises elsewhere, we both knew that this would be very different. I had come across a video on YouTube that the Paras had made during their tour of Afghanistan a year previously and I was well aware that it gave an accurate picture. I watched it over and over again in an attempt to familiarise myself with the type of terrain and the likely tasks we would be performing. Annie watched it with me and was not happy at all and, after watching the dangers I would face, she became more and more apprehensive about me going. In fairness, she never moaned or asked me to quit because she knew it was what I wanted to do. She was really very good about it, although it was clearly hard at times for her, supporting me all the way, which was fantastic. This demonstrated to me the strength of the bond between us, and the depth of her love for me.

As we said our goodbyes, my father told me how proud he was of me and I remember mentioning that he could now probably understand how his father must have felt when he himself went off to the Falklands War. I felt there was a close bond between us just then, which others were unable to share, because of the unique circumstances my father and I shared. Everyone put on a brave face and continued telling me how proud they were of me. Now, I just wanted to go and get the job done and come home in one piece. I had no idea then just how many times I would come close to being killed.

Following a long and emotional goodbye to everyone, my mother drove me back to the barracks. I can recall the car journey being pretty quiet for the most part. I was suffering from the same sort of nerves or butterflies that you experienced at school when the bell had just rung for lunch break and you were on the way to the playground where a bully was waiting to punch you.

When we finally arrived at the barracks, I remember it being really quite a sunny and warm day and the area seemed almost deserted. All the other companies were already deployed in Afghanistan, and it was strange to see the place so quiet. We both walked through to my room, which I shared with Dan and Alex. My kit was all ready on the bed, so I did my final checks making sure all my magazines were there and that I had emptied my water bottles to ensure that there was no water in them to become stagnant by the time I arrived. Going down sick on one’s first day on operations would not have gone down very well at all.

I could see the tears welling up in my mother’s eyes as we stood by the car, saying goodbye. She held on to me as if she was resisting letting go, promising to write to me and send parcels. It was surreal feeling and, in the back of my mind, there was the thought that this could be the very last time I would see my mother. I remember trying to brush it all off by saying that everything would be fine, that there were no problems at all, and telling her to keep her chin up and stop being silly.

After my mother had gone, Deano and Scotty arrived and I quickly changed into uniform ready for the first parade. Off we then went for muster parade, dressed in our fresh, clean, perfectly pressed desert combat clothing with the badges all in the right places. Soon we were all catching up on what we had got up to during our leave. It was normal stuff, but amongst this slightly high spirited chatter we were also talking about things we had seen online about Afghanistan, similar to the video I had seen on YouTube, and saying how mad it all looked. It was a scene of mixed feelings once again.

After the parade, we went back to our rooms to chill out while we waited to leave. Later, as we went to the cookhouse for our evening meal, the trucks and coaches began to arrive. My kit weighed an absolute ton and dug in to my shoulders, but we needed to carry things for every eventuality, including being delayed and having to stay overnight somewhere en route. We all piled on to the transport and I remember it being dark by the time we left. I tried to get some sleep as we drove towards our first destination, South Cerney, where we were checked-in and handed in our bags. We were held there for around four or five hours which seemed like an eternity.

As a soldier, I always considered myself fortunate having the surname Cartwright because in the Army everything is always done in alphabetical order and so I was always one of the first to be called. As I walked around the departures area before we left for RAF Brize Norton, I noticed that people were tending to group with their closest friends. This was probably even more the case with those of us in the FSG because we were split up among the rifle companies. In some instances, this would continue throughout the whole forthcoming tour, even though many new friendships would be forged.

We finally arrived at RAF Brize Norton where we all sat around in our groups, waiting for the off. The aircraft arrived in the form of an RAF Tri-Star which took us on an eight-hour flight to Kandahar, which was one of the provinces adjoining Helmand Province in the south of Afghanistan. We were served normal airline type food, but there were no in-flight movies. During the flight, I sat next to a member of B Company whom we had got to know during the six months of training.

During that time, most of our instructors were Paras whom we had watched on YouTube. They had handed over to 42 Commando RM whom we were relieving. Despite my having failed to join the Royal Marines, I was still going to end up fighting in Helmand and so it somehow seemed like destiny. That led me to thinking perhaps I would not come back, that perhaps I would die out there. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that there was nothing I could do to control my fate, no matter how fast I ran or how low I crawled. If I was going to be wounded or killed, then it would happen.

As we approached Kandahar, I checked my kit because we needed to keep our body armour and helmets with us at all times. Although it is not mentioned on the news, Kandahar airport is attacked regularly. At that time, there were still Taliban operating in Kandahar and the Canadians were responsible for the area. The British did not see much actual fighting in Kandahar as the majority of their troops were based in Helmand. When you consider that Afghanistan is around four or five times the size of the United Kingdom and Helmand is the size of Wales, that puts it into perspective – it is a big place.

We landed at the huge air base under cover of darkness, because landings only take place at night to avoid aircraft becoming targets of ground fire. On arrival, we moved into what can only be described as one massive air conditioned tent. As I came down the stairs of the plane the overriding feeling was that, ‘There are thousands of people here that want to kill me.’ The other thing that hit me was the sheer intensity of the heat. It was so incredibly humid, similar to when you step off an air conditioned aircraft when going on holiday. The big difference was that there was no suntan lotion and cold beer waiting for us.

We climbed aboard buses which took us to a massive sand-coloured air conditioned tent that looked like a huge hollowed out bouncy castle in which you could fit two or three tennis courts. There we found massive fridge freezers with ice cold bottled water displaying large signs saying, ‘Cold bottle out – hot bottle in.’ There were strict rules on smoking, with huge bins provided for cigarette butts of which there were only three. Large quantities were scattered around the bins – typical squaddies, nothing changes.

We arrived in time for the evening meal, along with coachloads of other troops coming from the flight line into the main camp. The sheer size of the base was almost overwhelming, its facilities a whole world apart from those at British bases. We drove past floodlit American football pitches and tennis courts, as well as Burger King, Pizza Hut and Subway fast food outlets. You could buy embroidered t-shirts, Persian rugs, perfume, alcohol-free beer and all manner of things ranging from Play Station 3s through to beef jerky. All of us wanted to head for the American cookhouse as it was reputedly so much better than its British equivalent, with everything you could want. Unfortunately, it was closing as it was late so we ended up eating British food.

Having eaten, we were shown to our sleeping quarters for the night. Once again, these were massive: an area the size of two football pitches with bunk beds almost as far as the eye could see. We all crashed out for the night. I had my iPod and so listened to my music while Deano watched Casino Royale on his portable DVD player.

On the following morning, following an early breakfast, we left in coaches for the airstrip where we boarded a C-130 Hercules transport for the half-hour flight to Camp Bastion in Helmand.

Flying in a Hercules was an experience in itself. Strapped into our seats, we faced each other across the fuselage which was soon like an oven despite the crew leaving the rear ramp down a little. We had to keep all of our kit on, including our helmets, so our hair was soon clogged with sweat. The inevitable black humour soon surfaced, with one lad saying, ‘What’s the point in us wearing our helmets in this oven? It’s not going to make a great deal of difference if we get hit in mid-air, plunging thousands of feet to our deaths.’ He did have a point. In any case, our body armour was of the older type that only protected the area of the heart and, contrary to popular belief, did not stop the bullet. All it did was to ensure the exit wound would be the same size as the entry wound, so reducing the risk of the bullet creating a vacuum on impact and exiting about ten times the size, creating considerable internal damage.

In contrast, the new Osprey body armour was fantastic and we would be issued this within the first few days of arriving in Helmand. The Kevlar plates were huge and heavy but covered all of the vital organs and in ballistic tests proved that they could deflect a round from an AK-47, leaving only minor bruising. The vests that carry the plates are totally adaptable with nylon loops sewn on to the outside so you can attach magazine and utility pouches to it and not have to wear belt kit or a chest rig. Also on the back there are clips for attaching your water bottle and looping your drinking tube under your left arm so you can drink without taking your hands off of your weapon.

We approached Camp Bastion, an escort of Apache attack helicopters guiding us in during the last stage of our journey. Built in the middle of nowhere, in an area that is not too dissimilar to the fens in the east of England, Bastion appeared to be a safe place with the surrounding terrain being entirely flat for miles around, affording no cover for any form of conventional attack.

When we arrived, we found C Company about to move out for Kajaki in the north. A Company was needed to hold Nowzad while B Company was to look after Forward Operating Base (FOB) Robinson for two weeks. FOB Robinson’s principal role was to provide artillery support for Sangin, which lay some six kilometres to the north and had seen some of the fiercest fighting in Afghanistan.

No sooner had had we arrived than we began our Reception, Staging & Onwards Integration (RSOI) package. This began with a series of briefings, studying local areas and analysing each attack that had taken place and numbers of enemy casualties, information on the Taliban and the kind of weapons they had been using and the various tactics being employed by them over the last period. We also underwent training on mines and mine clearance, and carried out a considerable amount of live firing with our weapons.

During this period, my fellow snipers and I made contact with our Royal Marine counterparts who provided us with a considerable amount of information including range data on the .338 calibre rifles we would be using. Once we had zeroed our weapons, we tested the Marines’ range data out and it proved faultless at different ranges varying from a hundred metres up to a mile, enabling us to set up our rifles and telescopic sights ready for action.