Spoken from the Front (9 page)

Lieutenant Colonel Duncan Parkhouse, 16 Medical
Regiment

We treat a lot of civilians out here and it was this that led to
the most surreal situation I've been involved in. We had a call,
first thing in the morning, from a mobile operating group out
on the ground. We were just finishing a shift at about six
o'clock in the morning. The call said that a local villager had
brought in a severely burnt child. At that time we were trying
to unload civilians back into their own [civilian] system rather
than have them clogging up the military hospitals but we went
to pick up the child. There was no danger to the HLS and we
weren't fired upon. The child had quite significant burns.
There was no way the local hospital could deal with that so we
brought her back [to Camp Bastion]. By the time we had
arrived, we had a call from the same call sign saying that the
father had brought in another six burnt children for us to pick
up.

What had happened was, this villager had had a fire in his
house during the night. At first light, he went to the call sign
to chance his luck with a burnt child – to see what the Brits
would do. Because we went to pick her up, he obviously
thought, Right, fine. I'll go back to my village to pick up the
rest of them. So he brought the rest of his burnt family to
the call sign. Then we decided we'd go back but try to offload
them to the local hospitals because civilians are a huge drain
on our resources. Now, one of the things we have noticed in
Afghanistan is that the locals use gentian violet as a type of
antiseptic. You mix it with water and it goes bright purple.
They paint it on everything.

But on this occasion, the Chinook landed on its marker,
nose first. So when we came out of the back, we were quite
disoriented. We didn't know which way the casualties were
going to be. So we walked round the back, and suddenly it
was like a scene out of
Apocalypse Now
. You had these huge
Household Cavalry men – six foot four all of them – walking
towards us in a line with these children. Some of the children
were walking, despite quite serious burns. And they were all
covered in this gentian violet. From head to toe they were
blue. They had big blisters on the heads and whatever. There
were about six, most of them under twelve, but there were a
couple of about eighteen months and a baby too.

I felt I was dreaming. It was absolutely bizarre. We actually
got them back to Camp Bastion. We'd had to resuscitate a
couple back on the aircraft. We had to intubate this small
baby, which is difficult at the best of times, but especially
when you are in a Chinook. In the end, those with minor
burns we sent out to local hospitals but we kept two on
intensive care for – well, they outlived my time there. I think
they stayed for about six weeks. Once or twice they were
almost switched off [their life-support machines] because
they were unlikely to make it and they were reducing our
capability for our guys. But we continued to treat them and,
in the end, they got better. They were actually discharged –
amazing.

Corporal Tara Rankin, 16 Medical Regiment

On this one occasion, we had deployed out to Sangin on one
of the typical twenty-four-hour ops [Op Bhagi]. We usually
go out from [Camp] Bastion. It was the early hours of the
morning – about three o'clock. I was still a 7 Para RHA medic
now attached to C Company [from 3 Para]. We had been
doing what normally happens on ops – patrolling, carrying
out route clearance, reassuring the local population and, at
the same time, looking out for enemy forces or any enemy
activities around the area.

One of our guys [3 Para B Company] was shot as he was
out on top of a building with his company near Sangin. It
was about lunchtime and he had been shot in the neck-shoulder
by a Taliban bullet. There was a doctor and medics
in the area and we worked as a team. It was my medic
colleagues from the Household Cavalry and 3 Para who did
most of the treatment. By the time I got to the scene he was
already 'packaged' and ready to be flown out. He was drifting
in and out of consciousness. Shortly afterwards he was
evacuated in a Chinook.

I knew the guy who had been shot quite well. He was
Sergeant Paddy Caldwell and he was married to a friend of
mine, who is also a medic. I had known him since 2001, when
I was doing my basic training. I first heard when he was
identified by his call sign over the radio and I thought, Oh,
no. He's one of the last people I'd thought would get hurt.
He's a lovely man – very family oriented, down to earth and
someone who really cares for other people regardless of who
they are and what profession they belong to.

I saw him again the next day in the main hospital at Camp
Bastion. He was still in a bad way – he was about to be flown
back to Selly Oak Hospital in Birmingham to be treated and
to have an operation. I felt very worried for him and his wife
and I just hoped he was going to be all right.

We were heading back into Sangin via these wadis, which
were filled with water. As we were peeling back into the compound,
we came under heavy enemy contact. Normally you
have a contact left, right or centre, but this was from all sorts
of directions. I realized there was a guy behind me who was
taking time to catch up, as you normally do on your first
manoeuvre. But I think it was the shock of being in that
situation first time round as a young soldier – he had just
come out of training – that got to him [and made him freeze].

He was the GPMG [general purpose machine-gun] gunner.
But he was in shock. As much as I tried to reassure him and
keep him going, it didn't work. I had to take his weapon
and told him that we had to do something about it [the
situation] because my normal A2 weapon wouldn't do much.
Everyone was trying to locate where the enemy firing position
was. So the guy holding the GPMG just went: 'Go ahead. Have
it.' I set it up [to fire] applying the principles of usual marksmanship,
principles that we have been trained in to use the
GPMG. It was a quick target identification. I had seen who was
firing at us from a compound. After notifying the platoon
commander, I saw the guy fire out of the window. He was a
[Taliban] sniper.

So I set the GPMG up on a tripod while under fire. Rounds
were actually coming from all sorts of directions, left, right.
There were so many things that were going on but all I cared
about was getting the guys – all of us – back safe and sound.
I wanted to make sure that we had actually pinpointed where
the enemy firing was coming from – especially the sniper we
needed to concentrate on.

From 300 metres, I identified the shooter. I saw his head
popping out of the window. He was shooting from a double-storey
building. It was the pharmacy building. I shouted to
the platoon commander: 'Look out for that second-storey
window in the pharmacy.' He looked for about five seconds
and he still couldn't see it. At this stage, I thought: Right,
something's got to be done about this because otherwise the
whole platoon will be wiped out. There was nowhere to take
cover.

I did the usual target indication as I used the clock-ray
method. I was saying: 'Right, twelve o'clock facing, enemy on
second window, double-storey window. Target seen,' and
they [her comrades] said: 'No.' So I gave it a bit of time and
did it again. I said, 'Target seen.' The reply was the same:
'No.' I said: 'Right, everyone, hold your fire. I'm about to fire
to indicate the target.' Then I fired. I don't know whether I
was excited or in shock. But the guy came out of the window.
I saw him drop out of the window and I held my breath. But
he was dead.

We have to abide by the Geneva Convention. As a medic,
you're only supposed to carry a weapon to defend yourself
and your casualty if need be. But at any given time and place,
I have to adjust myself to the situation and the environment.
I think for me, at the time when that incident happened,
being a soldier came first – before my work as a medic.
Women can take a full combat role. There are some out there
who do. Not all females can do it, but there are some.
Anyway, then we retreated back to the Sangin compound. On
ripping back into the compound [still under fire], I thought: I
can't run as fast as the bullets are going past me. But by now,
the guy next to me had recovered from his little shock period.
I handed the gun to him. I said: 'Thanks, you can have it
back now.'

Captain Charlotte Cross, Territorial Army

Captain Charlotte Cross, of 3 Military Intelligence Battalion
(Volunteers), in the Territorial Army (TA), is thirty-six. She was
born in south-east London. She is the daughter of an advertising
consultant and a schools administrator and has an elder
brother. She has combined a non-forces career with service in
the TA for more than a decade. A biology graduate from Bristol
University, she worked in publishing, then at the BBC's Natural
History Unit before becoming a journalist. She joined the TA in
1997 because she was looking for a new challenge, and opted to
work in the Intelligence Corps. After TA officer training at
Sandhurst, she was commissioned as a second lieutenant.
She deployed to Afghanistan in 2006 as part of the PsyOps
(Psychological Operations) team. Cross is single, and now
works as a television reporter for the British Forces
Broadcasting Service.

As you can imagine, the work is pretty full on and tiring. It's
literally non-stop from 0630, when I get up, until 2030 or later
when we have our final briefing – and no days off. On
Fridays the morning briefing is later, at 0930, to give everyone
a lie-in. I've already been out on two patrols in Lash [Lashkar
Gah] – yesterday we went out to visit the women's centre and
girls' school. Nobody's really visited those places before
because it's difficult for male soldiers to interact with the
women. We also took the Danish CIMIC [Civil Military
Co-operation] team because they do reconstruction work
and want to carry out some projects at the women's
centre and school. So we've decided I'll be the point of
contact for the women now, for both CIMIC and PsyOps.
We're hoping the women will be more comfortable talking
to me.

We went to the girls' school first, a big single-storey building
in the middle of a huge open space in the town. But it's
incredibly derelict, just grey concrete rooms really, no
windows, just holes, and the surrounding area is just rocky,
sandy dust. It's guarded by armed ANP [Afghan National
Police], but they're corrupt and useless. None of the people trust
them – most of them work for the Taliban in their spare time.
They pay them more and give them motorbikes. We spoke to the
headmistress for about twenty minutes – she's been threatened
by phone and by 'night letters' for running the school. They
threatened to shoot her or cut her fingers off. She asked for a
safe-house, but we can't give her that. It's very sad, really. There
are 125 teachers at the school, teaching hundreds of girls in
shifts, and they have literally nothing, so we give them radios,
school packs, things like that, and CIMIC build them wells and
improve the buildings. But we're not supposed to be creating a
reliance on us, just facilitating them helping themselves.

The women's centre was equally inspiring – it's run by a
woman who arranges English language, computer and cooking
classes for about fifty. They get threatened on their way
there – two I spoke to were in the back of a car when a man
emptied an AK-47 into their driver. Yet they still turn up –
they told me all they want to do is learn office skills and be
allowed to work. But, again, their facilities are rubbish and
they have to put their own guard on the gate. Nobody provides
one for them. We gave them a huge supply of sanitary
towels and hygiene kits (just things like soap and toothpaste),
and they were so grateful. It's amazing what you take for
granted.

This morning I was out on a familiarization patrol. We were
taken all over Lashkar Gah to see the various buildings of
interest, and the shoddily policed check-points, and we drove
through the market and waved at the little children who run
behind the vehicles. A lot of them stare and point, then
collapse in giggles, when they realize I'm a girl ...

On that note, an Afghan gentleman came into the office
today. He looked utterly shocked when I told him I'm the
new boss! He pointed at me and said, 'YOU?' He runs a
school and wants computers for the kids. He did smile
and shake my hand, though, so I reckon he sees me as
some sort of strange foreign alien from another world.
Not quite a woman, not quite a man, but something in
between ... That's what my interpreter said. It's gonna be so
weird here.

McNab:
The RAF's ageing fleet of Nimrod reconnaissance aircraft
was grounded after a crash in Afghanistan claimed the lives of all
fourteen on board. It was the worst single military loss of life since
the Falklands War of 1982. The end for the twenty-nine-year-old
Nimrod MR2, near Kandahar, came during the most intensive
period of fighting in Afghanistan since the fall of the Taliban in
2001. It was carrying twelve airmen from 120 Squadron, one
Royal Marine and one soldier from the Parachute Regiment. The
aircraft was flying at about 10,000 feet when flames started coming
from the tail as it fell to the ground. The accident meant British
troops had now suffered thirty-six deaths in Afghanistan since
2001.

Major Maria Holliday, QGM, Royal Military Police (RMP)

Sometimes we would escort high-value targets [Taliban
suspects] to Kabul on behalf of the Afghans because they
didn't really have the resources to do it. Quite often, if we
couldn't get the evidence, the detainees would have to be
released. But when there was sufficient evidence to support
an allegation that they were a member of the Taliban, they
would be handed over to the Afghan authorities. They might
have been arrested if they were in possession of a firearm or
if they were seen to be firing at UK troops, or perhaps if they
were in possession of documentation that would suggest they
were a member of the Taliban. It was exactly the same sort of
evidence that would be required in the UK. But once we had
handed them over, we would have to monitor how they were
being treated. We would visit the Afghan jails and speak to
the detainees to make sure they were being treated correctly.
We had a moral duty of care, if you like. There were no
examples of mistreatment during our tour. The [RMP] boys,
when they first went down there [to Lashkar Gah], expected
to find really bad conditions, but they were OK. The jails were
very, very basic but the cells were kept clean. Sometimes the
Afghans did surprise us – they were better organized than we
expected.