CHAPTER 9

Mobile Operations

On returning from Operation SILICONE, we began to prepare ourselves to deploy on Mobile Operation Groups (MOGs). A and C Companies were based at Nowzad and Kajaki where they defended and patrolled their respective areas. C Company’s presence at Kajaki was due to the hydro-electric dam there. Although running at less than half of its capacity, it still supplied electricity to many thousands of people within the Sangin Valley. The British had not only promised the Afghan government to protect the dam, but also to return it to full capacity in order to supply the entire valley with electricity. The dam tapped into Helmand River, which runs straight through the province of Helmand where the majority of the villages are located near the river.

C Company’s task was to push the Taliban away from the area of the dam. Meanwhile, B Company and its FSG would deploy from Camp Bastion in Viking vehicles manned by Royal Marines. Our task was to move into the desert near the Green Zone, and specifically target the various villages and compounds that were under Taliban influence or control, driving out the enemy and returning the villages to the locals. The first of these was called Pasab. After the success of Operation SILICONE and HBK, we were looking forward to the Pasab operation, brimming with confidence and ready to take on the world. Deano had managed to talk B Company’s commander, Major Mick Aston, into allowing the snipers to be attached to the platoons instead of staying with the WMIK fire support vehicles. During Operation SILICONE and HBK, Teddy was commanding a WMIK while I had attempted to snipe out of a Viking, which had not worked well. Deano and his team, on the other hand, had actually been in the Green Zone with the platoons, providing surveillance and a supporting fire role, which proved very effective. We were going to have to try a whole new way of sniping for which we had not trained previously, so would literally be learning on the job.

Teddy and I packed our kit, although there was only a limited amount we could realistically take. To solve the problem we decided to share a Bergen between us, this being strapped to the side of the Viking carrying 7 Platoon, which was commanded by Lieutenant George Seal-Coon, with Sergeant Woodrow as the platoon sergeant. The brilliant thing about these two was that they did not try to control us, allowing us to carry out our tasks in our own way. I carried a radio to maintain communications with the platoon and Major Aston. This proved to be a perfect arrangement, allowing us to report not only where we were but also what we could see. The role of snipers is not just the clinical removal of targets, but also observation and provision of information on the enemy. As we soon found out, the Taliban do not simply sit still and shoot, but are quick to use flanking manoeuvres and engaged us with tactics that needed spotting early. The number one priority of a sniper is usually to target an officer or someone who is obviously in command. The Taliban, of course, wear no distinguishing insignia so our targeting was instead based on threat, with those seen to be equipped with RPGs or machine guns receiving priority over those armed with an AK-47 or a pistol.

Leaving Camp Bastion, we headed across the desert towards Pasab, a small village on the edge of the Green Zone. A large canal ran along the far end of the village, along which we were to patrol keeping a close eye on the far side of it. If possible, we were to cross it and patrol up to the Helmand River, clearing the area right up to the river itself. As usual whenever we appeared, all the locals began to flee the area in a hurry. This was a pretty good indicator that the Taliban were there and waiting. We just had to find out how many and where.

There was a Bedouin camp to the south of Pasab. The people in these camps were referred to as ‘sand pikeys’ because they were desert nomads. We were to bypass the camp as it was not part of the village, the built-up area of Pasab being our main objective. We were observing a local on a moped who kept driving at speed across the front of our arc at a range of about 600 metres in front of us. We watched him closely whenever he stopped, trying to identify any weapons on him. We could not see any but were suspicious he was the only inhabitant remaining in the area while the remainder were all heading away as quickly as possible. I reported this over the radio, voicing our suspicions that he was estimating our strength, and received the response, ‘Give him a warning shot.’

I gave Teddy the range data and checked the wind as he dialled it into his scope. I used my rangefinder to ‘zap’ a junction in the dirt track, along which the local was heading, to give an exact distance. As the moped approached to within 10 metres of the junction, Teddy fired. The round whizzed past in front of the moped, the sudden shock almost making the local fall off. Teddy grinned and we high fived as the local sped off into the distance.

We patrolled across the open area with 5 Platoon, to which Deano and Scotty were attached, in support. Teddy and I were with Corporal Martin’s section, which was in the lead. When we crossed open ground, we moved in just behind the lead section. That way we had some protection from the rear and also from the front, so from whichever direction the contact took place we would be in the middle of the platoon.

As we moved on, an old man came out from the Bedouin camp shouting and waving his arms furiously. I later found out from one of the interpreters that he was politely telling us to, ‘Go home, or die.’ Some really horribly malnourished dogs skirted round us in packs of five or six, snarling and growling. Some of them were foaming at the mouth and were really just skin and bone, with matted fur and bald areas covered in scars.

We eventually reached the village, and then made our way through buildings and meandering compounds. The loudest thing for me was the silence, reminding me of scenes from spaghetti westerns with tumbleweed rolling along empty streets. We moved on and patrolled through, looking into doorways, but the whole area seemed utterly deserted.

All of a sudden a shot rang out and everyone took cover, those in the open slamming themselves into the ground. Teddy and I dived behind a crumbling wall, dropping to our knees and observing around us. I listened to the radio as the tension mounted until we heard someone shout out, ‘It’s all right! A dog went for me, so I dropped it.’

We stood up and dusted ourselves off before continuing to patrol forward and clear the village unopposed. Eventually we reached the canal, which was sunken with high banks on either side, so much so that it was hard to tell you had reached it until you were right on top of it. Close to where Teddy and I halted was a large building with big green double doors.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a sudden and prolonged burst of machine gun fire directly above our heads. We scrambled for cover and I could see that it was coming from the far side of the canal. Corporal Martin gave his section a fire control order and started to suppress the fire. Meanwhile, Corporal Parker and his section moved up to a compound to the left, Teddy and I following them into a building from which we began observing the thick treeline from where the fire had come. The canal swept round from left to right quite steeply, curving away from us towards a steep mound on the other side. Beyond were thick woods and really dense treelines in which it was almost impossible to observe any movement.

The area was dotted with compounds, some of them 6 or 7 feet in height while others were only waist high. We had tucked ourselves into a compound with walls of around 4 or 5 feet in height, so we could see over the top and shoot out. The treeline was only around 50 metres away, and the noise was unbelievable. My heart was racing and my mouth was dry as the enemy kept up a heavy volume of fire, even launching a couple of RPGs at us, one exploding about 20 metres to my right, its shockwave actually making my teeth rattle. Teddy opened fire with his rifle into a small building next to an old footbridge which spanned canal, while 5 Platoon moved up to support us. To prevent us all from becoming bunched into one compound, Corporal Parker’s section went through a small doorway that led to a gap between more compounds. This ended up in an area that had high sandbanks leading up to the canal and the section spread itself along one of them, engaging the treeline while trying to locate any likely enemy fire positions. There was a small hut just off to the left of a small footbridge about 200 to 300 metres away and I began to fire directly into that area, while observing the treeline and trying to pinpoint a definite target. The volume of fire and the denseness of cover were such that it was really very difficult to locate the enemy.

Teddy had joined Corporal Parker’s section while I attached myself to Corporal Martin’s, positioning myself to protect the flank. I knelt down next to a building but as I did so the wall above my head exploded in a cloud of dust and debris as a continual hail of bullets flew literally inches above my head. I lay flat on the floor almost willing the earth to open up and allow me to get lower, even just a few more inches to give me cover. I then started to crawl as fast as I could, eventually reaching a doorway where I managed to gather myself a bit. One of the 5 Platoon lads had seen it all happen and began returning the enemy fire. While he was doing that, I looked back around the corner and about a metre away there was just a big piece of wall totally mashed up where the fire had been thumping into it.

At this point I decided to find out where Corporal Martin was and tell him that there were enemy attempting to outflank us to the right, and that one of them had spotted me and pretty much emptied a magazine at me. I then met up with Teddy and Corporal Parker’s section as 5 Platoon moved up on our left flank and came under heavy fire from the enemy. It became apparent that the enemy were moving up from the other side of the canal against the steep bank, which was why we could not see them. They had been popping up on the other side of this bank, firing over from only around 50 metres away then getting back down and scurrying back off. By now they had moved right along the canal and spotted 5 Platoon, and started to lay down more heavy fire.

We called up a fire mission over the radio for our mortars to finish off any of the Taliban on that part of the canal, quickly taking up positions so we were at a safe distance from the bombs. We were observing the treeline when Corporal Parker spotted the enemy and shouted, ‘There’s one in the trees! Rapid fire, rapid fire!.’ Private John Thrumble responded with his GPMG, accompanied by six others with their SA80s, while Teddy also joined in with his .338, a heavy volume of fire smashing into the treeline. We all watched as a limp, lifeless body fell out of the trees and thumped to the ground on the other side of the canal. Thereafter, we continued firing and launched a number of 40mm grenades, fired from underbarrel grenade launchers (UGLs), into the area. A hand grenade was thrown by one of our number but it had no effect as it struck the bank on the far side before rolling down and exploding in the canal, showering us with water.

The message came through that we were moving back for a ‘pick up.’ It was decided that we could not cross the river, because there was only really one main crossing point provided by a rickety old wooden bridge and that would have been suicidal to use. So the call was made for the canal area to be bombarded by the mortars while we pulled out of there. We could hear them in the distance beginning to fire. They called each pair of mortars with a number. For example, if the distance and trajectory was going to take fifteen seconds from point of firing to point of impact, it was called, ‘Shot one five.’ When you consider we were only around 50 metres away from the Taliban and were already beginning to hear our mortars being fired in quick succession, you can see why we really needed to pull out fast.

As we moved away, we cleared a compound by firing into it and throwing grenades in through doorways. We also threw smoke grenades and ran through the smoke while continuing to withdraw. The enemy fire died down to almost nothing as we heard our own mortar bombs whistling down and impacting on the other side of the canal, explosion after explosion after explosion. We were ‘tabbing’ at a fast pace and I can remember being incredibly pumped up as the adrenalin flowed.

As we stopped by a dried-up river bed, the vehicles appeared. We were sharing ours with some of the combat engineers led by a big fat Welsh corporal. One of the sappers was of Asian appearance, similar to a Gurkha, and next to him was a very pale-skinned Jock with ginger hair. They watched wide-eyed as we piled in and ripped off our helmets, pouring with sweat and gulping water like madmen as we swapped accounts of the action. We talked fast, wondering if others had spotted the body falling out of the tree or me nearly getting my head blown off and other things like this as we began to pull away. Unfortunately our vehicle didn’t have air conditioning, so every time we stopped we threw the back door open and gulped at the air, before having to close it again as we continued. On reaching the open desert, we halted and set up all-round defence. This was our first patrol on MOGs and it had certainly proved to be eventful.

The next village we were scheduled to patrol was a place called Zumberlay. The Marines we relieved had told us that they had been involved in a lengthy action there, scoring quite a number of kills.

After a night’s rest, we replenished our ammunition and water supplies and drove back into the Sangin Valley. This time we entered it slightly further to the north, dismounting on some high ground over to the east of Zumberlay and receiving a set of quick battle orders. The plan was to break into the village and then push north-west to the limit of exploitation, the furthest point up to which we were permitted to advance. The FSG was staying on the high ground to cover us, so we dismounted and 5 Platoon, which was to take the lead on this particular patrol, prepared for battle.

I saw Deano and Scotty and gave them a thumbs-up just as the last man of 5 Platoon disappeared into the dead ground while Teddy, I and 7 Platoon advanced to the ridge to give fire support. We were moving up when we heard a massive explosion as an RPG whistled overhead and impacted some 200 metres behind us. We ran forward to start observing and shots rang out as 5 Platoon engaged the enemy. Meanwhile Deano and Scotty scrambled up on to a compound roof. Another RPG was launched at us, exploding behind us but closer this time as the Taliban began to find their range. We could hear the FSG beginning to fire Javelin missiles but could not see anything until we saw a compound literally blown to pieces, which sent us whooping and giving high fives.

5 Platoon continued pushing forward and the firing ceased as 7 Platoon moved along the same route in and pushed around to the left to give flank protection. After about the seventh compound, as we reached a wide open road and began to cross, 5 Platoon halted and gave us cover as we moved forward with Major Aston to meet the commander of 5 Platoon. We looked at the different possible approaches and decided to parallel each other on either side of the road.

Teddy and I then took up a position on a roof to provide over-watch. Corporal Parker’s section was going to be the first into the compounds, accompanied by a combat engineer equipped with a bar-mine. Originally designed for use against tanks, we were using them to blow large holes, known as ‘mouseholes’, in the walls of compounds to gain entry. The shock wave from an exploding bar mine is phenomenal. I was always told to close my eyes and open my mouth so that the air in your lungs can escape through your mouth to avoid any risk of internal damage. The trouble was, if you opened your mouth too wide you would get a mouth full of dust, debris and God knows what else. On the other hand, if you didn’t open it enough, your teeth would whack together so hard it really hurt.

The ‘mousehole’ was blown and Corporal Parker’s section burst into the compound, bayonets fixed, firing rounds and throwing a few grenades as they went in, not taking any chances because the enemy could have been in any of the compounds we were clearing. Luckily this one was clear, so Sergeant Woodrow launched Corporal Martin’s section with Teddy and I following up behind. It was a big compound, but empty apart from dead poppies.

Teddy climbed on to a flimsy roof while I stayed on the ground as we did not want to risk falling through it. Although we needed to position ourselves on these roofs to obtain the best possible vantage points, some of them were made of solid mud and straw while others were just straw, so we had to be careful. The rest of 7 Platoon came in and took up positions to give us our own defence. We had air support in the form of a Harrier on station, so Major Aston halted us to give the pilot a chance to try to find the enemy from above or for our FAC to give him targets to engage. After about ten minutes the pilot reported that he could not see anything moving, so he had decided to carry out a ‘show of force’ – a low-level pass over the area. Teddy tossed me his camera and I succeeded in filming the aircraft as it hurtled in at treetop height, the roar from its engines deafening us below.

As the Harrier flew away, 5 and 7 Platoons continued north to Zumberlay. We were totally unopposed as we patrolled but knew we were being watched. We did not take any chances, sprinting when crossing open spaces and zigzagging to make ourselves difficult targets. Eventually we completed the task and called for a pick-up by our Vikings which appeared at the edge of the village where we mounted up with still no sound from the enemy.

We drove back out to the desert and the company spent the next few days patrolling various villages in the area, but nothing of any note really happened, apart from a couple of contacts similar to that at Zumberlay. Each time, we were reaching our objectives and pushing the Taliban further up the Sangin Valley. Although we had not taken any casualties, that was all about to change.

We returned to Camp Bastion and after a few days were told to pack our kit for a three-day operation. This time we were to patrol and clear a village called Tsawmishi, which was known to have a large number of Taliban, so we knew from the start that we could be in for a really hard fight. Tsawmishi lies to the south of a sharp bend in the river Helmand which forms an inverted ‘V’ with its apex facing north. To the north of the river, spanned by an old bridge, is a village called Hyderabad.

The following day found us on the high ground looking over Tsawmishi with the bridge as our objective. Entering from the east, 5 Platoon was to lead and push towards the compounds on the right-hand side where it would halt and go firm. 7 Platoon would then push through before 5 Platoon and cross the open ground into the left-hand side of the western area and push north through the compounds towards the bridge. The compounds ran parallel to the river, eventually joining up at the bridge; at the largest point there was a large, wide expanse of land about a kilometre wide. A well populated area, it also contained some treelines and vegetation although not as dense as those we had encountered previously.

The first platoon to reach the bridge was to capture it and hold it, while the other headed back towards the south to provide protection for the elders of the community. This was commonly known as a ‘shura’, a council of elders who controlled the whole area. In the Afghan culture, people are very respectful of their elders and part of our mission was not only to protect them, but also listen to them and explain the reasons for our presence. We had to win the hearts and minds of the locals while also hopefully gaining valuable information about the enemy.

5 Platoon, accompanied by Deano and Scotty, set off with us following along with 7 Platoon, the approach route taking us through poppy fields and drainage ditches. As soon as 5 Platoon reached the first of the compounds, it came under fire. We listened to the radio net as we ran forward 600 or 700 metres through fields and around corners of buildings. The enemy were bringing heavy fire to bear from automatic weapons and RPGs, and it was clear to us that we needed to move forward so that if the platoons mounted an attack we could move to a flank and provide effective supporting fire.

5 Platoon was returning fire and holding the compounds as 7 Platoon ran forward through some patchy wooded areas. Teddy and I were just behind the lead section and by the time we caught up with 5 Platoon the shooting had died down. By that stage, the platoon commander had decided to close in on the enemy who appeared to be withdrawing to the north. In the meantime, 7 Platoon regrouped in a wadi.

We then began to come under enemy mortar fire. There was that dreaded whistling sound as the bombs fell. It gets louder and louder until there is about a half-second pause before the bombs explodes and you see the grains of sand in front of you shudder and jump off the ground while the shock wave swamps you, shaking you until your teeth rattle. We all got down as low as possible to protect ourselves from shrapnel and pieces of flying rock.

One of the bombs exploded about 100 metres to my right and this was followed immediately by shouts of, ‘Man down! Man down!’ We all spread out as the mortar fire got closer and closer. The medic, we called him Macca, sprinted past us towards the injured man, Corporal Martin, who had a really deep laceration in his arm caused by shrapnel. At this point an American aircraft swooped in out of nowhere and fired on the enemy position, followed by another that dropped a 1,000 pound JDAM bomb on the main enemy-held compound.

The enemy mortar fire ceased and 5 Platoon now moved forward, covered by 7 Platoon. Our FSG hammered the left-hand side of the compound near the ridge as 5 Platoon moved across the open ground towards the enemy positions, doubling across the open. Teddy and I meanwhile clambered up on to a roof and began to observe the compounds. Deano and Scotty were in with 5 Platoon and gave sniper cover for their guys as we continued moving north. We encountered small pockets of enemy resistance, but they were largely not interested in holding their ground. Instead it appeared they were retreating back towards the bridge, which they held in strength, clearly intending to make a proper stand there.

We had now been involved in this contact for a few hours and the engineers were blowing mouseholes in the walls of the compounds so we could enter. There are three codes when entering a building. Red is to throw grenades in first and then enter firing whether you see enemy or not; Amber is to go in with just your weapon and without grenades; and green is to enter without either. On this occasion, we initially were going in red each time, throwing grenades and laying down fire. As the battle continued, we dropped or raised the code depending on the threat as we saw it, because if we continued through on code Red throughout we would be in danger of running out of ammunition pretty quickly. Furthermore, if we knew there were civilians in a building we had no choice but to go in Green.

As we pushed through I thought that this was why I joined up: infantry skills being put into practice textbook fashion. Teddy and I were close to Corporal Parker as we went forward, jumping up on to the roofs to get eyes on as we went, each time checking the next compound in front for enemy, and engaging them with fire whenever we spotted them. The guys on the ground knew we were there giving them cover, which always gave them a boost, especially as they moved across open ground. The tactic was for the snipers to position themselves on the roofs, clear the way in front and give cover as the assaulting sections were blowing holes in walls, entering and clearing the buildings. As soon as they were clear, Teddy and I would jump down and head for the roof of a cleared building where we would then repeat the process. This was intense and knackering stuff, bearing in mind we were doing it in 40 degree heat with full body armour and equipment. I guess it was training and pure adrenaline that kept us moving at such a pace. I had started with four litres of water on me but by this time had already consumed half of that.

As we reached a point just short of the bridge, everything went very quiet and our advance slowed. 7 Platoon was now only about 200 metres from the bridge and halted in a graveyard. We could hear all the commanders talking over the radio net while they decided on the next move; as I had the radio I briefed Teddy on the situation. Shortly afterwards, 7 Platoon was ordered to advance to the bridge with 5 Platoon giving fire support from its position about 300 to 400 metres away.

We stood on a dusty track, with a treeline running from left to right in front of us with a small gap where track ran through. There were recently harvested poppies, so the crops were not too tall. We pushed through the tree line until we reached what I realised was a drainage ditch with a sort of mound of dirt to the left of us. As we went through I noticed that Private Thrumble had his oil bottle for his GPMG strapped to his helmet. I turned and said to Teddy, ‘Looks like a Vietnam war film this.’ He grinned and said, ‘Yeah, it does.’ As he spoke, we heard the whoosh of a RPG flying in towards us. It had been launched from the northern side of the bridge and passed between the last two guys from the section in front of us before detonating on the other side of the drainage ditch.

We threw ourselves down into the ditch as dust and debris flew all over the place and I heard the cracking of automatic fire as the Taliban opened up. Thankfully, the ditch was deep because the Taliban were firing like crazy, bullets literally whizzing and cracking all over the place and ricocheting off the ground in front of me. I just hugged the floor, flattening myself as close as I could to the ground. At that point, we could see two of our guys across from us lying motionless out in the open. Despite what was happening around us Teddy, who was an RMA 3 medic, leapt up shouting, ‘They’re hit! They’re hit!’ and started running full pelt towards them with bullets whistling around him and hitting the ground around his feet. I was shouting at him to keep low and stay down as I followed him, firing into the treeline on the other side.

I got down next to him when we reached the first guy, Gilly, who was lying there unconscious. As Teddy started to shake him, his eyes slowly flickered open as he regained consciousness. He began screaming and clutching at his knee, so we grabbed him and dragged him along with ourselves into the drainage ditch. He slid all the way down into the water, which was waist deep and, because the air temperature was so hot, absolutely freezing. He was still screaming in pain and clutching his knee, so we pulled his leg up to take a look and noticed a tear in his trousers and saw the blood. Teddy ripped the trouser leg open and saw a piece of shrapnel lodged just behind Gilly’s kneecap. We asked if he could put any weight at all on it, but he was unable to do so.

In the meantime, the battle continued to rage around us. The noise was deafening, and foliage and twigs from the dense trees rained down on us. RPGs were literally criss-crossing over the top of our heads as we stood waist-deep in the water. I watched as two criss-crossed each other and smashed in to the ground on the other side of the ditch close to me. Lance Corporal Stevie Veal, who was second-in-command of Corporal Parker’s section, came splashing along accounting for his men and saw that the other guy who had been knocked out had recovered consciousness. This left us with just Gilly and his shrapnel wound. In the army we have codes signifying a particular type of injury: a T1 casualty denotes someone totally unconscious but needing urgent hospital attention; T2 is anyone who cannot walk; T3 is walking wounded; and T4 is killed in action. So we told Stevie that we had a T2 casualty and he said he would take him back. The platoon commander, Lieutenant Seal-Coon, appeared and reported the situation on his radio as Stevie hoisted Gilly up on his shoulders and started walking back. He looked at me and said, ‘JC, take over my fire team.’ I replied, ‘No worries’ while Teddy said that he would then go forward with Corporal Parker to help him out.

Lieutenant Seal-Coon went forward with Teddy to link up with Corporal Parker’s section and get some fire down on the enemy, leaving me with Private Mclure and a few other guys under my command. Meanwhile, I could hear on the radio that 5 Platoon was now rushing over to our left flank to give us fire support. By this time, I had crawled up the eastern side of the drainage ditch from where I saw three Taliban running across another treeline some 300 metres away to our flank in an attempt to outflank us. I immediately took my safety catch off and fired at them, at the same time shouting, ‘Enemy 300 metres, in treeline! Rapid fire, rapid fire!’ My guys scrambled up the side of the ditch and opened fire on them. After around ten or fifteen minutes, Stevie came splashing back, completely exhausted and out of breath after evacuating Gilly and I briefed him on the situation before leaving him and pushing forward again to try to find Teddy.

I moved around a bend in the ditch, laughing to myself because, throughout all our training out on exercise, no matter where we were, be it the Brecon Beacons, Galloway Forest in Scotland, Salisbury Plain or wherever, we could guarantee we would end up wading through water. Never in a million years did I think that I would end wading through water waist-deep in the middle of a desert in Afghanistan under fire. At least they got something right in the training!

Reaching the end of the ditch, I found Lieutenant Seal-Coon with his map out, giving a full sitrep (situation report) over the radio. I kept flat as I emerged out of the ditch, crawling forward to ask about Teddy. Lieutenant Seal-Coon pointed over his shoulder to where I could see Teddy with his .338. Just as I reached him, he fired a round. A lifeless body fell out of a tree and Teddy, being half-American, whooped and yelled at the top of his voice, ‘Yeah!’ I tapped his right foot to let him know I was there. He turned. ‘Did you see that? Did you see that!’ To which I put my thumb up and said, ‘Good shit man, you rock!’

I could see quite a thick, dense treeline to the left of the bridge near an old shack and started putting down fire into likely enemy positions while nearby Thrumble did the same with his GPMG, laying down excellent fire support. Josh Lee was also there, firing 40mm grenades from his SA80’s UGL to the left and right of the bridge. Meanwhile Corporal Stu Parker was giving constant sitreps on the radio, reporting on everything including ammunition states. Watching him made me think that all those hours on training and exercise were being used to good effect, which is one of the reasons why the British Army is so professional.

I was observing the enemy who were only 60 or 70 metres away, when something caught my eye to the left of the small building. A head popped up and Teddy saw it – Bang! It was a head shot and a confirmed kill. Another Taliban swung around with his AK-47 on seeing his fellow fighter have his head blown off. Teddy moved his rifle across and once again – Bang! He looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression and said, ‘What a twat!’ He had clocked up three kills in the space of around five minutes.

Inspired by Teddy’s performance, I was determined to find some targets of my own and began firing into likely enemy positions. Then out of nowhere three bullets whistled really close over my head. I glanced immediately through my SUSAT sight and observed a Taliban wrestling with his weapon, which had jammed. He sorted the problem out and, standing up, was aiming straight at me when I fired three rounds into him. He dropped straight down, a small plume of pink mist where each of my rounds hit him. Everything happened in slow motion. I grinned across at Teddy who had seen this happen and he gave me a thumbs-up.

At that point a bullet whizzed past literally centimetres from my face. I crawled back a bit and saw Private Thrumble putting a fresh belt of ammunition on his GPMG and yelled, ‘Thrumble! Give me some covering fire!’ He yelled back, ‘Where?’ I replied, ‘Any f...ing where!’ He grinned and slapped shut the top cover of his GPMG and then, with a wild stare in his eyes, just let fly, putting down heavy fire into the treeline to our left and allowing me to crawl out of there as fast as possible. I found Lieutenant Seal-Coon who was still there with his radio and maps, and reported that we were beginning to notch up some serious enemy kills. I asked him about the plan of action and whether we were going for the bridge. He relied, ‘No, negative. We’re pulling out.’ He told me that we had achieved our objective and taken the fight to the enemy, and that the Vikings were now arriving to extract us. He ordered me to make my way back to Stevie Veal and double-check that he was ready to move. With that, I began splashing my way back through the drainage ditch.

Over the radio on my earpiece I suddenly heard, ‘Man down!’ On reaching Stevie I learned that it was Macca, the medic who had patched up Corporal Martin’s arm. He had taken a round just below his body armour plate, right next to his belly button. He was a T1 casualty, but was fairly stable which was a relief.

I was telling Stevie about my first confirmed kill and Teddy’s three kills when the Vikings appeared, their GPMGs laying down fire as they raced up towards us. Stevie’s fire team had been ordered to move on. As they began to do so, I started to move forward and bumped into Lieutenant Seal-Coon who said, ‘Where are you going, JC? We’re mounting up and getting out!’ I replied that I was not leaving without Teddy. Lieutenant Seal-Coon told me that Teddy was already with Corporal Parker and that he had just watched him get into his vehicle, so he was safe and well. With that I turned on my heels and jumped into the back of the Viking. It was chaos inside with everyone diving in as fast as possible because bullets were literally pinging off the sides of the vehicles. Within around thirty seconds they were moving again, stopping en route to pick up more guys en route during the withdrawal. We ended up at the medical point where we saw Macca lying doubled-up over on his side, being administered morphine and oxygen.

We were now on high ground and away from the contact, but the Vikings were moving back in and out of the area to ferry the other guys out. The Medical Officer told us that there was a Chinook helicopter coming in for Macca, so we all stripped off our kit, put our rifles and kit to one side, and manned the stretcher to get him aboard and away for proper medical treatment. The Chinook came in through the valley and over us, kicking up a massive amount of dust. As it landed, a protection team deployed and took up positions around the aircraft. The loadmaster came out and waved us forward, and we ran towards the paramedics standing at the end of the ramp. They took over and the protection team ran back on board, and within seconds the helicopter took off. From the time Macca had been shot to the point where he was in the hands of the medics at Camp Bastion was about thirty-five minutes so well within the ‘Golden Hour’ which is critical for the treatment of casualties.

At this point I still had not actually seen Teddy and was growing more than a little concerned as we walked back towards the Vikings. Shortly afterwards, I spotted him and along with everyone else we were soon rabbiting on about our experiences.

It was then time to mount up once again and move out to the middle of nowhere in the desert and set up camp. We cleaned our rifles, took on fresh ammunition and ate a decent amount of food. We then sat around the camp. If we had been in a non-tactical situation we would have lit a fire, but that of course would have been like someone shining a spotlight on us. So we sat in darkness checking radio batteries, cleaning weapons, loading up with new magazines, grenades and everything else we needed. Afterwards, we lay there with sleeping bags draped over us, because it was just too hot to climb into them, chatting and reflecting on what had happened that day. I remember feeling like a proper soldier now that I had been shot at for a sustained period and achieved my first confirmed kill. Teddy meanwhile kept the details of his kill to himself as he felt it was personal, between him and his target. It was a lot more of a ritual for him, one that he kept very much to himself.

We broke camp on the following morning and headed north and to the next village. I’m not sure whether it was a relief or an anti-climax, but the next few villages proved largely unoccupied, almost like ghost towns as we went through and cleared them. The plan was to continue driving the Taliban northwards towards Musa Qaleh, which was the last major city where there was still a degree of Taliban control existing. There was no intention of us going into battle there, as we did not have sufficient manpower, so the objective was to ensure we cleared the Taliban along the Helmand River and continued pushing them north. At this point, it was early May and the heat was stifling with temperature of 40 degrees during the day, dropping to around 20 degrees at night.

Initially we were to stop off at FOB Robinson and carry out patrols around Sangin itself, which was where A Company was now located. As mentioned previously, the area around the FOB was heavily mined. The inevitable happened as we drove across country towards the FOB when one of the vehicles towards the front went over a mine. Fortunately no one was killed but there were a few casualties. One of them was Sergeant Keith Nieves, along with a Fijian lad called Private Nadriva, who pulled Sergeant Nieves out the vehicle, and the Marine driver. Whereas Teddy and I were travelling together, Deano and Scotty were with this convoy but in separate vehicles. It was Scotty’s misfortune to be in that particular Viking; although he was unharmed, he had strapped his sniper rifle to the roof of the vehicle which burst into flames. Forced to abandon his kit, he walked away with nothing apart from his pistol. His laser rangefinder and the rest of his sniper kit was now gone, leaving him ‘combat ineffective.’ In the event, he was fortunate in that he was due his mid-tour R & R break in eight days, so he was flown to Camp Bastion where he was employed helping B Company’s headquarters to forward mail and kit to us on ops before being flown back to the UK.

This led to some reorganisation. Our section commander, Deano, and Teddy, a shooter, had to be the obvious pairing, leaving me with two real options. I could either carry on with them, so we would have two spotters and a shooter, or I could backfill into B Company temporarily for the three weeks that Scotty would be away and then depart on R & R. In the end we all agreed that it would actually be easier if we kept to the normal two-man operation.

I slotted into 5 Platoon, whose platoon sergeant was Sergeant Chris Caneper, the guy whom I met in the Snake Pit at FOB Robinson when we first arrived. He was from the Gibraltar Regiment and had volunteered for the tour, replacing Sergeant Nieves. The platoon’s 51mm mortar man was Private Nadriva – the very same who had nearly blown up Teddy and me during training at Camp Bastion at the beginning of the tour. Nadriva had been wounded and so I was to replace him. I was really chuffed about this because I would get my hands on a different weapon system, my role being to provide support for the platoon by firing high explosive, smoke and illumination bombs.

We camped in FOB Robinson, unfortunately not in the nice cushy buildings that we had occupied previously as these were being occupied by 2 RTR which was now based there. We were to live in the Dust Bowl and there was a good reason for it being dubbed that – it was very, very dusty. The stuff actually came up to our ankles and, with the consistency of flour, it penetrated everywhere. If someone walked through it, you would see this massive trail of dust kicked up everywhere. It was a nightmare at the best of times, but we had no option but to live with it. The best answer was to take a large bottle of water, move away from the vehicles and then tip it all over our heads and wash our hair and faces or otherwise we just looked like ghosts. We had to do this because our mouths and nostrils were parched and our tonsils on fire because they had been so dried out by the dust. Along with fighting a continual battle to keep ourselves clean, our number one priority was to make sure that our rifles were always spotless and lightly oiled. The chance of anyone attacking a fortified army camp was unlikely, but we had to at least be ready just in case. That said, we eventually took to leaving our weapons in the vehicles, the only alternative being literally to clean them every half an hour.

On the first morning in the Dust Bowl, Pete Tointon came down looking for Teddy, Deano and me. He had gone to talk with the Canadians and had succeeded in coming away with some their rations which were not dissimilar to those of the Americans. That day, I enjoyed the best boil-in-the bag meal I have ever tasted and probably ever will – it was veal steak in a mushroom sauce and they had not skimped on the steak, with beautiful large chunks. I can still recall it now, a taste sensation.

We had been in the FOB for about two days when the call came in for us to move out as we were going to be moving into Sangin. Due to its large size, it was decided to break the convoy down into two main elements. The leading element would leave around mid-afternoon and the second an hour or so later.

As I was about to move out in my new role as the mortar man, I was going through last-minute reminders because I had not touched the 51mm mortar since my 9 Platoon days some three years previously. An indirect fire weapon, effective use of it is about finding the correct angles for different ranges. Sergeant Caneper and Corporal Thorn went over and over the drills with me until I could do them all without any prompting.

I had to repack my day sack because in place of my laser rangefinder and other tools of the sniper’s trade, I would be carrying mortar bombs. The guys in the platoon would also be carrying extra bombs for me to help with the load as they weigh quite a bit. I was carrying five HE and three smoke bombs as well as my rifle ammunition, water and all the rest of my equipment, which would make up a total load of 70 to 80 pounds.

The lead element of the convoy mounted up and headed off. During the following hour, we all sat waiting and after a while saw a large plume of black smoke rising up from Sangin in the distance. We all joked that the locals were probably having a massive barbecue while at the same time praying that nothing had gone amiss. Sure enough, ten or fifteen minutes later the lead element’s Viking vehicles came scrambling up the road towards us and through the front gate of FOB Robinson. There were in a bad way with bullet holes in them, bits of bar armour hanging off and smashed windows.

They had been ambushed just inside Sangin, near an area that was sort of a local reference point or landmark that people called the ‘Chinese tea shop’ or something similar. When the guys arrived, one of them had sworn blind that he had seen a child come close with a mobile phone doing what we called ‘dicking’, a term coined in Northern Ireland which meant reporting on the movement of troops and their whereabouts.

As the convoy came up the road Deano was on top cover, standing up in a hatch in the roof of the Viking vehicle in which he and Teddy were travelling. Just behind him, strapped to the roof, were jerrycans of fuel and other items of kit. At that point a Taliban fighter launched an RPG from a nearby rooftop and scored a direct hit on the roof of the vehicle, detonating on one of the jerrycans and causing a huge fireball that totally engulfed Deano in burning fuel. He dropped down back through the hatch of the vehicle, desperately trying to put out the flames and ripping off his helmet and body armour. Teddy meanwhile placed his hand on the handle of the rear door, readying himself to open it, but could hear the sound of rounds pinging off the armour the outside. The Taliban had learned where our doors were and created a choice for those inside: either stay inside and burn to death or open the doors and get riddled with bullets.

At this point Deano jumped back up into the hatch of the vehicle, with no helmet or any body armour, and began to return fire with his SA80 rifle. At the same time, there was a lull of a few moments in the bullets hitting the rear door, so Teddy threw it open and, armed only with his 9mm pistol, leapt out and headed for a nearby an alleyway. There was deafening noise and dust all around him as bullets rained down and RPGs flew in all from all directions. As he scrambled into the alleyway, he came face to face with a Taliban fighter shooting rounds in to the air and screaming, ‘Allahu akbar!’ Teddy shot him dead on the spot before turning his attention back to the Viking. Realising that there was no movement from it, he ran back to the vehicle where he found Deano lying unconscious inside, having been knocked out by the blast of another RPG hitting the roof.

Deano was in a mess. Severely burned from the blast and injured by shrapnel, he was losing blood and rapidly losing consciousness. He needed emergency medical treatment and quickly as he was in a really bad way. Teddy got into the vehicle and dragged him out of the vehicle, all the while under fire from RPGs and automatic weapons. He then had to carry him whilst continuously getting shot at with machine gun fire. Somehow, he succeeded in reaching another Viking, throwing open the doors and heaving Deano inside. There was no room for him so he had no choice but to run back another 50 or 60 metres, still under heavy fire, to another vehicle where he took cover in the back of it

All the while the FSTs were bringing fire down on the enemy, but there were buildings all around and it was a relatively built-up town, with high buildings all around that area which made manoeuvring almost impossible. The convoy was still under very heavy fire as it drove out of Sangin. As soon as it reached a safe area on the way back to FOB Robinson, a Chinook arrived to collect Deano and the other casualties who were flown to Camp Bastion. Deano made it there within twenty-five or thirty minutes, again well within the Golden Hour, which we all still believe saved his life. Apparently four different surgeons worked on him all through the night in order to stabilise him initially and then keep him alive. It took a lot of work to bring him back.

When I heard what had happened my first concern was for Deano, but I also worried about Teddy. The guy had done us all proud. I found out that he was at the medical station where he was being treated for shock rather than wounds. Both can be equally serious though and I do not want to underplay the physiological effects of war, especially when you realise what Teddy had taken on and beaten.

I bumped into Hughesy, who was part of the FST team, holding a first field dressing to his face as I asked what had happened to him. He pulled it away and there was a graze the same width as a 7.62mm bullet right across his cheek. On contact, they had leapt out of the vehicle as it had all kicked off, but his day sack had been caught on the door. As he leaned down to free it, he had felt a violent blow to his face which knocked him flat. He instinctively curled up expecting another blow. It turned out that a bullet had come very near to taking his head off, close enough to take layers of skin from his face. He just sat there, saying really slowly, ‘Yeah, I know, I know.’ All of the guys were in varying degrees of shock, no matter how they dealt with it and all had what I can only describe as the ‘thousand yard stare.’ Being in and around the guys that had come back from the ambush reminded me of watching a television documentary about soldiers from the past or even seeing old photographs of soldiers from the Seconnd World War, only here it was in full colour and with modern kit, but they had the same look in their eyes. We subsequently heard that a couple of Apache helicopters were swiftly deployed over Sangin and destroyed some of the Taliban fleeing the scene on mopeds.

While I was listening to everyone’s versions of events amid what seemed to be endless chain smoking, Teddy appeared from the medical area. He was really very quiet and staring at the floor as I went over and put my arm round him, saying, ‘Nice one mate, you did brilliantly from what I’ve heard.’ He was almost lost for words and just kept saying, ‘Hope he makes it, hope he makes it.’ I replied, ‘Me too buddy.’

After my prompting him for a while, he told me what had happened but even then would stop and stare into space as if he was re-living the experience or replaying things in his head. I put this down to the shock. As the next few hours went by, he distanced himself from the group and wanted to be left alone, so Colour Sergeant Snow asked me to keep an eye on him and report anything I thought was not great. Of course I would have done this anyway, because he was my oppo and I was going to look out for him. In addition, with Deano now injured, that now made me section commander.

Teddy and I now had no kit at all, absolutely nothing. Much had been destroyed, not only by the Taliban but also by the Apaches which had ensured that the Taliban did not benefit from the situation. I was left with the clothes I stood up in; for the next few days, I even had to clean my teeth by eating about three packs of chewing gum each morning. We managed to get a bit of a whip round going and obtained a few items. The whole unit had not been back to Camp Bastion for quite some time so nothing was washed and, no matter how desperate, I was not going to start wearing other men’s sweaty boxer shorts.

On the weapons front, Teddy managed to acquire an L96 which was a sharpshooter’s rifle and had a different scope to ours. It was not much use to us because all our shooting data was for the .338 as opposed to a 7.62mm calibre weapon. This rendered me useless because my role was to spot everything and give ranges. Teddy, on the other hand, was a qualified sniper and more than capable of using this weapon so he joined Corporal Parker’s section in B Company.

I meanwhile continued as the 51mm mortar man within my group. This meant that we lived in the Dust Bowl for another four days, sleeping by the vehicles and going through the same mundane daily routine. People were even putting up ponchos and making little walls out of anything available. That said, the camaraderie was just excellent but we were still bored, so I was sent on a mission to try and acquire some American MREs (Meals, Ready to Eat) which I am relieved to say was successful. Teddy was also bored and went across to the shooting range on the northern side of the FOB, an area next to a mound near the wall on which you could stand and fire over it into a big area of basically nothing. We would pick out prominent rocks and there was even an ISO container which you could target and just practise our marksmanship. We simply told the boss that we were off to the range to check zero and we would just practise and fire off rounds. The ammunition on the .338 rifle was in really low supply, but there was no shortage of 7.62mm or 5.56mm so we spent hours up there shooting off rounds, talking and sharing a smoke.

A few guys came to test their GPMGs and even some Americans came over with an M4 carbine on a bi-pod, so we swapped and they had a go on the L96 while we did likewise with their weapon. I remember one of the Americans asking, ‘You’re a sniper?’ As I nodded, Teddy zapped a road with the laser rangefinder and measured that it was exactly a kilometre away. The American said, ‘Betcha can’t hit that road, man.’ We realised that he wanted us to land a round on the track 1,000 metres away. Also, we only had an old scope but we accepted the challenge anyway.

Both Teddy and I held our breath and a few seconds later were whooping and doing high fives, because we both did it first time. The American smiled broadly, shook his head and said we British snipers were crazy. It was nice to have the praise that all the American guys gave us and we ended up going over to their area to play American Touch Football, which was really amusing because we were still in the Dust Bowl. With all the dust thrown up, it was total chaos because we could not see anything and at times might as well have been running around chasing a ball blindfolded. The amount of times people would blindly run into each other was countless. We did this kind of thing for the next four days and I read the same magazines over and over again. I also used the opportunity to send letters home to Annie while receiving some very welcome mail. It was really good to hear from back home.

Eventually we received the call that we were to move out and into Sangin, so we began to prepare ourselves and pack things up. We also heard that Ross Kemp was on his way out to us and would be appearing soon with his film crew. He arrived at the FOB, which broke the monotony, and I remember meeting him, saying hello and shaking his hand. It was quite late at night when he turned up, so we all got our heads down shortly afterwards.