CHAPTER 12

Aftermath

Thankfully, not a great deal happened that night and we rose early. I had rolled away from the blanket and, although the sun was bright when it rose, it was still cold. At least my clothes were now dry, but because of the sheer amount of sweating done the previous day, the back of my shirt was like cardboard and had a white chalky residue all around the edges from where the salt that had crystallised from the sweat. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, this would compound the problems with my back, which was still hurting quite a bit, when more sweat would mix in with the salt and grime from the previous day and rub into my already raw skin making it total agony as I donned my day sack, weapons and kit. I had now been wearing this one set of clothes for around two or three weeks, albeit I had managed to borrow a few pairs of socks.

I came off the roof to go downstairs and have a cigarette, so as not give away our position. It was around 4.00 am in the morning and I sat on the steps leading from the roof into the main building. A few of the guys were beginning to wake up too and someone said that it was ‘stand to’ in half an hour – we would man our positions wearing all of our kit and be ready to repel any attack. I went back to the roof after I finished my fag and shook Teddy awake, letting him know that ‘stand to’ was soon. We made sure our kit was ready, put on our body armour and I checked that the fresh battery was fitted to my radio.

Following ‘stand down’, we found out that we were to be working with 5 Platoon alongside Sergeant Caneper. Yesterday we had pushed on down the route between the 611 road and the Helmand River and found all of the enemy bunkers that had since been blown up by the engineers. Today we were going back to check that the Taliban were not trying to re-infiltrate the area. If necessary, we would take the fight to them again; no one had really done this previously or stayed for long periods of time in the Green Zone. If the Taliban did want to stick around they would have to throw us out, which was not going to happen.

We moved through a field, halting by a bridge that ran over quite a wide canal with substantial tree cover over the top. Teddy recognised the spot and kept looking around before finally saying, ‘Over here JC.’ I went over and saw a puddle of congealed blood, but no body. The Taliban never leave any of their fallen behind, but we grinned anyway. This may seem callous but, if you consider what warfare is really like, take into account our friends being blown up or shot and remember the Taliban were trying to kill us, perhaps our feelings were understandable.

We moved forward again; even though the sun had only been up for a few hours, it was hot with the temperature in the 30s. As we patrolled forward, we came across an old school and then a mosque where the Taliban had hidden the day before. We couldn’t gain access to it, to check it for weapons because it was padlocked, and we were not permitted to touch it as it was a religious building. The previous day it had been full of fully armed Taliban shooting at us but, although we could have flattened it with our air and mortar assets, we could not do so. We looked around the area, but there was nothing to be seen with no one around at all to talk to. It was quite a dense Green Zone area with trees overhanging thickly and little houses or assorted buildings set about the place in amongst the trees, irrigation ditches and fields.

We continued patrolling, moving for around five or six hours which really took its toll. Patrolling in that kind of heat was both physically and mentally exhausting, especially in that type of dense close country. We were having to concentrate so hard on what was going on around us and be totally aware of our own guys, as we could have come under attack at anytime at all. We needed to check all of the variables including a constant assessment of the ground around us, in order to be able to instinctively take cover towards the most appropriate place if we came under fire. We also had to be vigilant as we passed people, buildings, dense treelines and so on, all of which were potential threats. If I saw a stick poking up out of the ground, I would be asking myself if it might be a marker for the Taliban and if we were about to walk into an ambush. We were aware that the Russians had left large numbers of mines behind and the Taliban had dug many of them up, sometimes stacking them two or three on top of each other and rigging them so they would detonate under the weight of one man. These were not anti-personnel personnel but anti-tank mines, and we had not been issued with mine detectors because they still had not arrived in theatre at this point, so the need to be aware of even slightly disturbed earth was crucial.

Around midday, we came to an area that contained a few buildings sited pretty close together. We halted in these for a while as the temperature was now hitting 45 degrees, it now being the beginning of June in Afghanistan. We needed to let the worst of the heat die down but, at the same time, could not just take the kit off our backs and have a kip. We had to stay alert against any potential attack as we were so deep in the Green Zone that there was no vehicle support. While the guys got up on the roofs, Teddy and I went and filled up our water bottles from the well. We were always issued with tablets in our ration tablets to purify water. Having filled our bottles, we would drop the tablets into them and shake them up pretty well. This saved us having to boil water and then wait for it to cool down, which took forever. Apart from the water tasting a bit like chlorine, it was at least cold which was welcome in the heat. We all cleaned ourselves up a bit and washed the sand and grit out of our hair and off our faces before making our way back to our respective compounds.

We all had our own little rooms in the compound and Teddy and I were bunked in with Sergeant Chris Caneper. We got our heads down for a little while as there were sentries on the roofs. We also took some food on board. I had my favourite boil-in-the-bag: chicken and mushroom with carbonara sauce. I had been carrying it in the uppermost compartment of my day sack, closest to the sun, in an attempt to warm it through, because we were unable to cook where we were. The result was a sort of lukewarm goo, which was pretty disgusting and nothing like the veal steak and mushrooms I had acquired from the Canadians. But at least it was food and I badly needed some to keep going.

After a while we pushed on, positioning ourselves up on roofs and patrolling but nothing happened. The area was totally deserted, with no sign of any movement. We eventually arrived at the compound we had occupied the day before, which also had a well where everyone filled their water bottles while also taking the opportunity to consume as much liquid as possible. Colour Sergeant Bill Shand had done what we call a NAAFI run and had squared us away with a large quantity of provisions, including cigarettes, cans of coke and Haribo sweets. He had it delivered by Chinook helicopter, having managed to sweet talk one of the RAF loadmasters into putting it on with a load of ammunition and other supplies. This was hugely appreciated because we knew that getting this stuff out in the Green Zone was a luxury and not a necessity.

We had been on the go for another full day in this heat with only three or four hours sleep. Sergeant Caneper stood there with this load in front of him, as everyone swarmed around the bounty, eyeing up the Haribo and coke. In the end he just said, ‘Will you all just f... off and let me sort this out.’ Quite funny but understandable that, after days of drinking chlorine flavoured water and running around in stinking clothes, tempers were becoming short.

One of the medics also came around asking if we were all okay. One of the guys that had just joined us and was brand new was saying, ‘My feet are just killing me.’ We all just said, ‘Come on, son, get a grip.’ He really insisted he had a problem and so the medic took a look, along with the rest of us. We pulled his boots off and found his feet had gone totally white. He had been wearing nylon socks instead of the issued cotton ones we all wore, so while we would be losing a pint of sweat through our feet every three or four hours, he had been losing unbelievable amounts. The result was a very bad case of ‘trench foot.’ The phrase, ‘trench foot’ originated in the First World War, during which where soldiers’ feet would constantly be underwater and soaking wet for so long that they would eventually start to rot. This is incredibly painful as the skin starts to break off in lumps. I know how painful it is, as I had once suffered from trench foot when I was a new guy back in the UK.

This guy must have kept quiet for days because the state of his feet was really shocking. The medic was trying to be sympathetic but began bollocking him for not raising the problem earlier. The section commander had to step in and tell the medic to back off because the guy was new. He then went through the guy’s kit, finding more nylon socks and telling him if he ever caught him wearing them again he would be put on a charge. Fortunately, he also had the issued socks that we all wore, so the medic delved into his pack and pulled out a big tub of foot powder, which is very potent stuff. He smothered the guy’s feet in it as well as pouring it into his new issue socks so that when he woke up and put his boots on, he would get a full day’s coating. We then carried the guy over to a building where he was told to keep off his feet for the rest of the night, although if the shit hit the fan and we had to move out quickly he would have to grin and bear it and put on his boots like the rest of us. He was a new guy and inexperienced and obviously thought he was doing himself a favour wearing sporty style clothing. As he learnt quite quickly and the hard way, there are good reasons why what we do most of the time in the Army is tried and tested and bloody well works.

After all the fun and games with the feet, we all went back out to the well and filled up with water and splashed about cleaning ourselves up and cooled down a bit, the sentries up on the roofs meanwhile keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings. By this time, Sergeant Caneper had worked everything out regarding the goodies and supplies, imposing a limit on each item so it did not become a free-for-all and everyone got equal amounts. Everyone of course ordered the maximum of everything and the smokers stocked up on cigarettes. It was excellent for morale and the sugar in the ‘full fat coke’ and the Haribo sweets was a much-needed boost to our energy levels too.

We all had another boil-in-the-bag, and I swapped a number of my other meals with some of the guys, so I had a decent amount of my favourite chicken and mushroom for going forward. I got my head down and slept for a little while and woke up to find a can of coke with a bag of Haribo sweets, so I walked outside and asked Teddy whose they were. He told me that there had been a few left over, so he had squared them away for me. We sat and had a smoke and a can of coke together, chatting for a while until ‘stand to’ was called and we all got kitted up and ready to go. ‘Stand down’ was called after a while and we retired to our sleeping quarters.

We patrolled right through the Green Zone and all the way up to the Helmand River. There were a few compounds there, with a large open field with a long treeline running across it. There was a compound there, with another just behind it and a third in the distance beyond. Beyond the river was a kind of canyon that opened up, reminding me of films of Ayers Rock in Australia. We could also see big high yellow cliffs on the other side of the wadi with a kind of valley which stretched into the distance: this was the Musa Qaleh wadi and the back door to the Taliban’s main stronghold.

We went across to the compounds and knocked on the door; there was no answer, so we kicked the door in. On entering, we found a family inside: a man along with his son, aged about twenty years old, his wife who was totally covered in a burqa, and some children. They all shrieked and screamed at first, but we called our interpreter in and told him to tell them that we were British forces and were there to help. We asked if they had seen any Taliban. The man told us that they had left a few days ago and gone via the Musa Qaleh wadi to Musa Qaleh. We pressed him politely, asking he was sure, but he insisted the Taliban had gone. We then asked if we could use his compound for the next few hours. At first he moaned a bit, but was soon relatively accommodating after receiving some compensation in the form of US dollars, telling us to help ourselves. We went out the back to his garden near the Helmand River which was shaded by extremely dense trees. We had been patrolling for a good six hours and my back was on fire, so it was good to drop the daysack, take on some food and water. Meanwhile, a couple of WMIKs and a Pinzgauer had succeeded in driving down and getting through to us.

In view of the fact that there no Taliban in the near vicinity, Major Mick Aston decided to hold a shura with the elders of the area. We all got ourselves up to the edge of the river and, while we were waiting, Ross Kemp came over with his camera crew and talked with Teddy as we had told him about Teddy risking his life to save Deano. We sat with him for a while, showing him how to zap a rangefinder laser at a number of potential targets including some upturned boats.

Shortly afterwards, I fell asleep but was woken by the CSM saying, ‘Do you want your R & R?’ He told me that we were to leave soon and for me to get my kit on, get loaded up and ready to move out. There were the inevitable calls of, ‘You lucky bastard!’ We all received the same amount of mid-tour R & R, so I enjoyed telling them that I would see them later and to f... off. I dived into my day sack and gave Teddy some of my cigarettes, thereafter dishing out the rest of my boil-in-the bags to the lads. Teddy said that he would walk me out. It was slightly strange in the sense that in normal civilian circumstances this just wouldn’t be appropriate, but we grabbed each others thumbs and palms and we turned and hugged. I don’t care what anyone says, because that was totally normal and totally appropriate to our situation. He told me to enjoy myself and I told him to keep his head down, stay low, move fast and all that stuff.

With that, I jumped into the vehicle as Major Aston had finished his meeting with the elders. There seemed to be large numbers of people around as we drove out of there up to a massive hilltop where the Recce Platoon and a few other vehicles were stationed. We were quite high up, so could see down on to the Green Zone and the Musa Qaleh wadi. From this vantage point I could see clearly where we had come, how far we had patrolled and cleared and it was a really good sense of achievement. I recognised a few of the Marines that were tending to their Vikings and they asked me how it was in there and I described it to them, telling them of my kill and of Teddy taking the enemy RPG gunner’s head off.

I met up with Pete Tointon and he told me in no uncertain terms that I looked like shit and I agreed by saying, ‘You’re not wrong.’ All of us were being pulled out on R & R, among them Josh Lee, OD and a few others were in the same state. I was offered something to eat and refused, saying I didn’t fancy yet another boil-in-the bag, until the guy mentioned that he had the last of a few Canadian meals, including veal steak in mushroom sauce.

That night, I slept up on a ridge after talking to Colour Sergeant Snow and the next day we prepared to fly back to Camp Bastion with Ross Kemp and his crew. Before jumping on, we had to carry a stretcher laden with a pile of stuff to the Chinook. The nightmare was that the helicopter landed about four or five hundred metres away, so four of us had to carry this stretcher over to them. The blades were going full bore and kicking up dust as we ran, tripping over rocks and blinded by clouds of dust, towards the aircraft. We made it just as I thought my arm was about to be dislocated. Almost blinded by the sand which had been kicked up, but with a feeling of relief and elation, I sat in the aircraft as it lifted off thinking that at last I was flying home, albeit I would be returning in a few weeks.

The flight to Camp Bastion was not long. As we landed, Ross Kemp turned and told me that he hoped we had a great break, which was good of him. We took ourselves over to the company lines where all the quartermaster stores were. I remember noticing about four or five new guys who had obviously just arrived: their clothing perfect, their skin white with sun cream all over their noses. I stood near them, in filthy kit, stinking to high heaven with a sweatband wrapped around my dripping head and my clothes in shreds. God knows what they must have thought.

Lance Corporal Coolage, better known to all as ‘Coolio’, came out and told us that he would look after our weapons if we wanted to go to the cookhouse for some food. We lost no time in getting ourselves across there and were soon getting stuck into croissants, sausage and egg, and cold orange juice. This was heaven, five star treatment. Breakfast over, we went to strip and clean our weapons but the inevitable happened. After eating boil-in-the-bags for over a month, the sudden intake of fresh food had a dire effect on us. The toilets were far better than the thunderboxes out in the FOBs but it was still like sitting in a sauna. To top it off, there were no toilet seats to sit on, just hot metal – still the graffiti on the walls made for interesting reading.

After the weapons had been cleaned, they were going to be serviced thoroughly before being reissued to us on our return from R & R, so I stripped and cleaned my rifle three times before I handed it in. I must admit that it felt weird not wearing body armour, sitting in a plastic chair with a pair of three-quarter length trousers on, with an iPod plugged in to my ears as I cleaned my weapon. I wrote out a list of all the ammunition that I handed in, then I tied it all up and put a name tag on, so everyone knew what was what when we came back.

Finally, I reached the point that I had dreamt of for such a long time – shower time. I stood under the shower for what seemed hours and it was the best feeling in the world, I watching the water run off me and form a pool of solid brown obscuring my feet. Eventually, I came out and collected a packet of cigarettes from my box in the ISO container. I also extracted my DVD player and saw a note from Scotty, who had left it from when he had gone on R & R. It read, ‘Hi JC, borrowed this to watch porn on, left it in for you though.’ I then telephoned home and spoke to Annie, before writing letters to people to let them know I was coming home. I had to wait for one more day before flying out. My R & R was to start on 5 June, so as it was the 4th I began to pack away all of my kit. At the same time, I unpacked a clean uniform ready for my return.