CHAPTER 8

Operation SILICONE and HBK

On arriving back at Camp Bastion, we found that we were based in Pod B, Camp 501, within the main camp itself. 6 Platoon was already in action and was still in Gereshk manning FOB Price and carrying out patrols around the area. B Company was equipped with Viking vehicles, which were absolutely fantastic and without doubt the best vehicles for crossing desert terrain. Modular in design, they could be coupled together like a train. The forward or ‘cab’ element of the vehicle was equipped to accommodate four men, together with a platform for a gunner armed with a 7.62mm with a GPMG mounted in a rotating turret.

The ultimate all-terrain high mobility vehicle, the Viking runs on rubber tracks which do not sink into the sand. It is also very fast and, equally importantly, very good when coming into contact with mines. If it runs over a standard type of anti-tank mine, everyone inside would be shaken up but would survive up while the vehicle would still be capable of being driven away. The Taliban employed a tactic to try to counter this by stacking two or three mines on top of each other but, although this would immobilise the Viking, those inside still stood a good chance emerging unscathed. The modular aspect of the vehicles afforded a lot of space and you could fire out of the back from a top-cover hatch. Inside the vehicle, it would be incredibly hot, with the temperature sometimes approaching 40 or 50 degrees. Some of the Vikings were equipped with air conditioning which was a godsend when it worked.

On arriving at Camp Bastion, I called my mum and Annie to tell them to post everything to me there as the move from FOB Robinson was complete. At about this time I began receiving parcels from everyone, which was really good and excellent for morale. In addition to this, Teddy turned up and it was great to see him and there was a lot of smiles and backslapping. Deano had been trying to get us issued with pistols as he was in command, but it was just not happening. I guess someone did not want the snipers swaggering around with pistols, but in fact we really did need them. If, for example, we went into the Green Zone and encountered a group of Taliban with AK-47’s at close range, we would have been in serious trouble as we only had bolt action .338 sniper rifles that only hold five rounds in the magazine. We were eventually successful, our argument being that if we were moving through alleyways or around buildings, we needed to have our pistols drawn so that we could react quickly and effectively to a threat at close quarters.

We came across the sniper team for A Company that consisted of Jock who was in command, with Donny as second-in-command, and JL and OB as the two shooters. It was great to see them, especially considering the snipers had not been together as a platoon since February. OB told us about the big contact in Nowzad, which I think was the same one in which Chris Gray unfortunately got killed. He said that they had been in amongst the buildings when it happened, and had to climb up on to the roofs to enable them to observe. As they did so, they came under heavy fire. Realising they were needed to give fire support and would have to push forward, they decided to split up into pairs. Running through a series of seemingly endless alleyways OB, with Jock behind him, turned a corner and came face to face with a Taliban fighter. Fortunately, he had his pistol in his hand and reacted swiftly, firing the entire magazine of thirteen rounds into the fighter who opened fire at the same time with his AK-47. OB hit him three times around the shoulder area while fortunately escaping completely unscathed. The fighter disappeared around a corner out of sight, so OB threw a grenade after him. Later, he discovered that his pistol had a groove exactly 7.62mm wide along the length of the top slide. When he told us this, there was a chorus of, ‘You lucky bastard!’ and he had indeed been extremely fortunate. The fighter was hit three times but still managed to run off. It was widely rumoured at the time that quite a few of the Taliban were high on heroin, which would have helped to numb pain. This was never proven, but there were several of us who experienced Taliban running at us wildly and continuing to move despite sustaining serious injury.

We spent most of the following week on the range or in the Skills House, which was a mock-up of the type of compound you would find in the Afghan desert, Green Zone or any other occupied area. In the western world you would typically have a detached house with a white picket fence and driveway, but an Afghan house was normally a walled compound with iron gates, usually painted green or blue, that were wide enough for a car to pass through. In the middle of most compounds, you would normally have a patch of dirt with various plants such as poppies growing, but the buildings themselves were just square and built out of mud and straw with flat roofs. Unlike in the UK, they had stairs on the outside but basically were square boxes attached to each other.

Bizarrely, these constructions, ancient in their design and simplicity, were actually better at stopping our bullets or grenades than modern brick houses and, although solid, could also flex and move. For example, if we tried firing a 40mm grenade from an underbarrel grenade launcher (UGL) fitted to an SA80, it would hit and either bounce off or simply embed itself in the wall and fail to explode. So we had to adapt our tactics accordingly, firing to hit the ground in front of them instead.

The Skills House was an accurate mock-up, albeit made from wood and hessian, and we would use it to practise tactics such as room clearance, with the positions of the twelve or so targets inside being changed each time. We would then have a debrief where we would go through any mistakes. It was fantastic training which gave you a hell of an adrenalin rush, because you forgot that it was not for real and took it dead seriously. We needed to change and adapt our fighting style to counter the enemy effectively and we had to learn fast. This was where we did it, in the Skills House and on the ranges.

Snipers were usually being deployed with the FSG on the flanks, but both Deano and I realised that this would be no good if the company went into the Green Zone, which is where the Helmand River runs down from Kajaki to the south of the province. Along either side of the river, to a depth of one kilometre, are areas populated by the local people who grow poppies for opium or crops such as maize or corn. We knew that we could not hang back and clinically remove targets at long range; we had no choice but to go in with the rifle platoons.

During this period of training, Teddy and I were very nearly wiped out by friendly fire. In the Skills House, the guys were reacting to some machine gun fire and we decided that we would not actually enter the compound, but move to the right flank and observe for any enemy in depth or running away from the compound. So, while the guys were firing and manoeuvring forward, we had moved from behind them and on to the right hand flank of the compound, taking up our new position as quickly as possible.

At this point there were no proper targets set out, so we had to make do with random piles of dirt and blocks of Hesco-Bastion which comprises steel cages lined with canvas and filled with dirt, a very easy and effective way of building walls or structures. We went through the normal procedure, with me using my laser rangefinders to ‘zap’ a target and thereafter giving Teddy the range and wind details for him to engage it. We would both observe the target and then he would fire. We repeated this process with between five and ten targets. It was invaluable practice in understanding each other and being able to second guess what we were both thinking all the time. Using the invaluable data the Marines had given us, coupled with using the rangefinders along with the fantastic .338 rifle, Teddy scored ten out of ten, which boosted our confidence enormously.

The only problem was that, as we were engaging our targets, we suddenly heard a whistling sound followed by a thud about ten metres behind us. I spun around to see a white smouldering plume of smoke. We then heard a thump in the distance, followed again by the whistling sound and another smoking plume about 30 metres away on the ground to our left.

The mortar man – OUR OWN mortar man – was firing live smoke behind us! I grabbed the radio and called him up, ‘51 mortar, you are engaging friendly snipers with your smoke. Check your fire! Check fire! Friendly snipers in smoked area.’ To our relief, we received the immediate response, ‘Roger, checking fire.’ The reason it was so critical for us to make contact was that the mortars always fired smoke first to gauge the fall of shot before firing high explosive (HE) bombs. If I had not heard or noticed the smoke bombs landing around us, the mortars would have switched to HE and Teddy and I would have been dead. At least we now knew the sound of an incoming friendly mortar!

Shortly afterwards, Snowy briefed us on Operation SILICONE which would begin on 29 April and continue until 8 May. It seemed fairly straightforward, with us being split into two groups, one sniper team north and one south. Teddy and I would be in the north while Deano and Scotty deployed in the south.

The area in which it would take place was called Habibollah Kalay, known to all of us as HBK. One rifle company was to sweep from west to east through HBK with the northern FSG mounted in Vikings. Mick and a guy called OD, a Territorial who had joined us for the tour, would go in on foot with a man-packed Javelin missile system together with the FST which would control all the air and mortar support were also there.

SILICONE’s objective was the clearing of a known stronghold of the Taliban north east of Gereshk. With eleven sub-units under command, including our A and B Companies, it was an ambitious, large scale operation and the first time a clearance of this scale had been attempted within the Green Zone. B Company would lead the way with A Company in support. Once the area had been cleared of Taliban, three patrol bases would be sited and constructed from which patrolling would be conducted to deny the area to the enemy.

A change was made to our order of battle (Orbat). This irritated me because Teddy was put in command of a WMIK and there was no room for us in the Viking with the FST. So, for the first day of the operation, I would basically be redundant because the WMIKs provided vehicle-mounted fire support and so there would not be much scope for me to dismount and do anything. This meant that I was relegated to sitting in the back of the vehicle on top of a load of boxes of ammunition, which was the most uncomfortable journey of my life.

On the day the operation began, we left Camp Bastion and drove off into the desert with me in the back of the WMIK being bounced around, cursing every time my shins got smashed against the metal ammunition boxes. Eventually we halted for the night, the vehicles forming a circle facing outwards in ‘all round defence’, ready to push on before first light on the following day. I remember looking out in to the pitch darkness and hearing the sound of the wind increasing, almost like a shock wave growing in its intensity and pitch. Suddenly, we all realized that we were caught in the middle of a sandstorm. I grabbed my sleeping bag with all my might, holding on to it with both hands as sand flew around us. I tried to peer out through slitted eyes but received an eyeful of sand, so squeezed them tight shut and turned my back on the brunt of the storm. It felt as though someone was playing a power washer hose on it, but using sand instead of water. The sandstorm lasted for only around thirty seconds, and then everything was still. Once it stopped, we opened our eyes to see people chasing after sleeping bags and roll mats. At around 3.00 or 4.00 am, this was a somewhat bizarre sight in the middle of the desert.

On arriving at the forming up point (FUP), I transferred to the Viking with the FST. It was not long before our troops came under heavy fire in the Green Zone and the FST was directing aircraft in to drop ordinance. The Apache attack helicopters in support of us were very reluctant to attack any compounds without proper confirmation of Taliban occupation. They were being cautious because our own guys were now actually in the Green Zone where they were coming under very heavy fire. As they tried to move forward they came under fire from another compound nearby which they initially thought was a school. The Taliban were firing automatic weapons out of every window of each compound and our guys were pinned down in desperate need of air support in order to regain the initiative and maintain momentum.

While the Apaches were hesitating, the Americans had overheard on radio transmissions and, having been given the coordinates, swept in and dropped a 1,000lb Joint Defence Attack Munition (JDAM) directly onto the target.

While this was going on, I looked across and noticed another Viking vehicle. Running across to it, I discovered the air conditioning was on which was just total bliss. It was the beginning of May now and the temperatures ranged from the mid-forties in the day to the mid-twenties at night, which is a nightmare to sleep in. I was just about to jump into it when Teddy called over from his WMIK and asked me if I wanted to use my .338. With that, I grabbed my rifle and ammunition and mounted the empty Viking. Standing up through the top hatch, I was observing a group of small buildings when an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) whizzed past me. Everyone returned fire with various weapons, including .50 cal heavy machine guns. The enemy responded with a few bursts but we maintained the pressure by keeping them under a heavy volume of fire. RPGs are nasty because they spread shrapnel all over the place when they impact, and so can be really deadly.

The Taliban continued launching RPGs at us, one after another. Whenever we saw the dust that flew up from where they were launched, we concentrated our fire on those locations. Just as Pete spotted a window from which some of the RPGs were coming, one flew past about 5 metres above my head. I dropped as deep as I could into the vehicle as it exploded behind us, the blast making our bodies shudder. Pete launched a Javelin missile and scored a direct hit. This slowed the enemy fire down considerably but there were still the odd few cracks of rounds flying past us.

This continued with fire being put down by both sides for another ten minutes or so. Another RPG flew over the top of ‘Strikey’s’ WMIK bonnet just as he was shouting, ‘Over there! Reference that building with three windows, next to the tallest building!’ I ‘zapped’ it with my rangefinder, pinpointing the target at 628 metres. I took into account the wind aspect while thinking, ‘This is it!’ My heart was racing as I aimed and took up the first pressure on the trigger. There was an incredibly bright flash as yet another RPG left that particular window and I immediately put two rounds in quick succession directly into it. I will never know if I killed the man with the RPG, but the firing ceased immediately. I guess he had either been hit and was now dead or I missed and he made good his escape, living to fight another day. Either way, the job was done and the threat neutralised.

The company cleared the built up area and we moved around to pick it up. All the guys had been ‘in contact’ with the enemy for around twelve hours and were completely exhausted. The most gratifying aspect of the operation for all of us was that the objective had been achieved without incurring any casualties. It was estimated that there were around ninety-five enemy dead, so the operation was deemed a great success.

Morale was really very high, but we had to stay professional and disciplined because we now had to move to Phase 2 and defend against the inevitable counterattacks. This phase of the operation would last for at least a week and became known as the battle of HBK. In the meantime we occupied three compounds in the area, each platoon establishing a defended base from which to deploy patrols.

All the snipers, two WMIKS and two Vikings helped 7 Platoon man its compound. Three permanent vehicle checkpoints were to be built nearby and a further three bases, designated north, central and south, to be established and manned by the Afghan National Army (ANA). We set out claymore mines and tripflares around the area and blasted down some of the trees to open up the arcs of fire. I recall there were poppies as far as the eye could see, and cannabis plants dotted around all the canals and drainage ditches.

At this stage in the operation, we received information that sixty Taliban fighters were now in the area and attempting to surround our position. The tension rose as we busied ourselves filling sandbags and carrying them to various points, including up ladders on to the roofs to build up our defences. In the event, nothing happened. We stagged on day and night while continuing to fill more sandbags, digging out the earth from the compound’s garden in the intense heat. At the same time, we were also felling trees to prevent the Taliban from climbing up them or using them as cover.

All the while, we poured with sweat as we toiled away improving the defences of our base. One of the new guys, a young lad called Troy, was clearly suffering quite badly from heat exhaustion, so I let Parky, his section commander, know. He asked me to keep an eye on him, so I sat with Troy and gave him some water, made sure he was in the shade and kept him talking while generally making sure he was all right. He was a really good bloke who would remain a friend.

As I mentioned, nothing happened that first day apart from stagging on. All we really saw, as we continued working on our defences, were civilians and farmers leaving the area as they had clearly been warned to expect a battle. On the second night at around two in the morning, we heard gunfire in the distance and saw the odd tracer flying skywards. The PVCP-North (Permanent Vehicle Check Point) was under attack attacked and the mortars were putting up illumination flares. Amazingly, the ANA troops manning the checkpoint stood their ground and repelled the attack.

On the following day, we were tasked with patrolling the area to ensure that it was safe for the CSM (Company Sergeant Major) to bring in food and water. We received a load of ‘Menu B’ rations which were not one of my favourites, but I tended to spread my melted Yorkie bars over the biscuits. To be honest, the heat tended to sap away my appetite anyway, and we had more to worry about because over the next few nights, the Taliban mounted attacks in the north and central areas. These often only lasted half an hour or so and seemed more like probing attacks.

One morning, an Afghan local approached the compound with his hands in the air. I made sure I had ‘eyes on him’ with my rifle. As he came up to the main area, I could see that he was an older man, maybe fifty years of age. I still had my telescopic sight trained on him but could see no sign of weapons or any evidence of anything being concealed under his robes, so I shouted down to the platoon commander for the interpreter. It transpired that the compound we were occupying belonged to this man and he wished to return later with his two sons to pick up some belongings.

Sure enough, that afternoon, they appeared and started to pull up their robes to show that they were not suicide bombers. This was a drill that the Paras had instilled into them, so we did not even have to ask them to do this. They were allowed into the compound where they began putting clothes and personal effects into bags. The old man then began to dig in an area of the poppy field. Teddy watched him carefully, his hand on his pistol in case he produced a weapon, but eventually he pulled out a yellow bucket. The interpreter asked the old man what it contained and he announced that it was opium, peeling off the lid to show the golden brown colour of pure opium ready to be turned into heroin. As one of the sons walked over with another bucket, the interpreter told us that this bucket would feed his family for an entire year.

The opium would be sold for $1,000 to a drug baron, who would in turn sell it on for around $10,000. It would eventually end up as street heroin worth around $100,000 and be bought by ‘smack heads’ in the West. It is the heroin and lucrative drugs trade that funds the Taliban, with ninety per cent of the heroin in the UK coming from Afghanistan. We had to watch this trade going on around us, but were not allowed to take any action against the drug barons or stop the opium production. To do so before better alternatives could be offered to the farmers would have wrecked the local economy and acted as a recruiting sergeant for the Taliban.

We remained in the area for another week and with our support the ANA continued successfully to repel attacks, enabling us at the same time to get ready to leave. After a few more days spent patrolling, we withdrew and handed over to the 1st Battalion The Worcestershire & Sherwood Foresters Regiment.