by Andy McNab
It's important to listen to other people's advice but have the courage and confidence to make your own decisions at the same time. And it's interesting seeing other young officers who have come in just a wee bit before you and see how well they have been accepted. I saw with a couple that those who had been accepted very readily were humble enough to accept advice from their soldiers and not come in with the attitude of 'Right, I'm the officer, I'm the boss,' because that's rubbish. These are the guys with the experience. You've got to be humble enough to take the advice and ask for the advice as well. But at the same time you've got to have the courage of your convictions. It's a difficult one, but it's not rocket science, and I think it's just something that unfortunately comes with experience. You really can't teach it to anybody. You've just got to let people get on with it and make their own mistakes – and not be afraid to make mistakes.
We have to learn from our mistakes. We're good at writing post-operational reports and I know we're all very busy, but a lot of value could be gained from applying those lessons [already] learnt. We all know that the Army is very busy and we ask an awful lot of our people – and we keep delivering because it's what we're trained to do – but we need to be careful not to take advantage of this and recognize that people need a break.
2 September 2008
McNab: I was in Afghanistan when a force of 5,000 British and Allied troops fought its way across a hundred miles of Taliban territory to deliver a huge turbine that would provide significantly more electricity for up to two million Afghans. The secret mission took almost a week to complete and was described as the most vital route-clearance operation since the Second World War. British commanders estimated that more than twenty Taliban were killed as they tried to prevent a convoy of more than a hundred vehicles transporting the machinery from Kandahar to Kajaki. For five days, the force battled its way through as the convoy crawled at just two m.p.h. as it carried the 220-ton turbine, 300 tons of cement, a 90-ton crane and other heavy equipment. I witnessed parts of the fighting. The project was aimed at improving the lives of many people living in Helmand province and winning the hearts and minds of the local Afghans. The task was attempted at the climax of the Taliban's fighting season and in the knowledge that a single enemy bullet could have crippled the delicate machinery and delayed the project by a year. Quite rightly, the mission drew comparisons with the 1944 battle of Arnhem and the relief in 1900 of the siege of Mafeking. I was impressed and relieved that our boys had pulled off their objective.
September 2008
Ranger David McKee, The Royal Irish Regiment
The mission to move the Kajaki turbine involved a convoy of more than a hundred vehicles and there were over 4,000 troops on the ground. It was pretty cool. The ANA were leading it this time. We [the British] were just there as support. We were seeing how well they would do out on the ground for once. And they were amazing. I would say at this stage they were ready to do anything. As part of the OMLT [Operational Mentor Liaison Team], we had helped train some of them up and it was very rewarding to see just how far they had come in less than six months. We [the Royal Irish] were given two objectives to clear. One was Big Top, which was a mountain. The second was Sentry Compound, a village filled with Taliban. Pretty much anyone who was inside that village was Taliban. We knew the mission was going to take a week.
On the first day, we started moving down to a secure location where we could gather around in our team to talk things over, make plans and get organized. The second day we started moving – on foot. The only vehicle we had with us was a quad [bike] and trailer because of all the kit that we needed for the operation. The kit we needed was horrendous. Even getting it [the quad] over the Green Zone was a nightmare because we hit rivers, and couldn't get the trailer over the river. Then we hit bumps and ditches. So we started moving down to another secure location and still no contact. After the second day, still no contacts. That second night we hid up in a compound and stayed there overnight. Then on the third day we moved a little bit closer to our objective. Again, we stayed in another compound overnight. But still no contact. It came over the net [radio] that we had made such good progress we were going to take our objectives the very next day.
So that whole night we – B Company – were just sitting there thinking: This is it. This is the big one. It's going to go down in history. And if it is going to go down in history, then we hope it doesn't turn out badly. We knew this time it was us doing the attack. The Rules of Engagement had changed at this stage for us to go in and do the attack. What we were told was: seven o'clock in the morning, first move, and the contact will initiate from a GLMRS [guided launch missile rocket system] being launched into the Sentry Compound. So, the next morning, we were all packed up ready to go and the GLMRS were launched – you could hear the vibrations. The bombing went off and we started making our move through a cornfield. But the mortars were still coming down on top of our objective to keep the enemies' heads down so we could get ready to go in and do an advance [attack].
We were all lined up, ready to go in for the assault, and one of the other teams were giving us fire support. So they were now firing on the position we were going into. As they were firing we made our move. Straight in. By that time, we didn't even come under contact. Our other team had been fired upon but they had sorted it out and dealt with whoever was firing back. We went in – the place was just flattened, rubble everywhere. There were loads of different buildings, compounds. We had to blow some of the doors off the hinges with the engineers. Either the Taliban were killed or they had fled. That whole day we killed 250 Taliban in total. But I didn't have to fire, although there was plenty of firing done.
That was an amazing day. Only because the mortars were commanded to land at 'danger close'. That meant, as we moved in, the mortars were meant to be landing pretty much right beside us. And that was happening. I got an adrenalin rush from this but the ANA were absolutely frightened by it. A lot of them refused to move until the mortars had stopped being fired. But we told them: 'This is the last one [attack] you're going to do. Once this has finished you're going home.' So then they were up for it and they were like: 'Yes, no problem.' So we all went in. This position was clear but the only problem there was that the other two teams were clearing Big Top. And they had come under extreme contacts because the Taliban had all these rat-run tunnels underground and there was loads of bunkers all over the place. All they were doing was running underground, then coming up: they could pop you in your back and you wouldn't even know there was a hole around. But the Taliban came under contact and they had lost everything. They had used all their rocket launchers and near enough all their ammunition.
That was the big battle. In our company, there were less than fifty men and we did that operation and even today we're proud of what we did that day. I feel honoured to have been a part of it.
We extracted back after the main battle was done. We stayed in the compound that we stayed in the previous [third] night. But the compounds were getting hit like crazy. At one stage, I was on the roof with no body armour or helmet on because we thought it was all done. Me and the boss, we were up on the roofs of the compounds taking photos and taking videos. And the next thing you know, you could hear the cracks of machine-gun fire. My initial reaction was: 'I'm getting the hell off this roof.' Usually, you got off using the ladder but I jumped off it and landed on my knees, while the boss lay down on the roof. It was just crazy. From then on, we were getting hit every single night but on the sixth night we decided: 'Right, we're leaving.'
As we were leaving, the Apaches came in, the Black Hawks [US utility helicopters] came in. And they just started firing all over the area so we could move out [to provide cover from a Taliban attack]. It was cluster-fuck trying to get everyone out. From our base, there were at least 450 troops on the ground, and trying to get 450 troops moved back in at once was a nightmare. This was moving back into the big base where the [Kajaki] turbine had been taken to. Then we went back up
to the dam and everyone was jumping into the water [with delight]. Everyone was taking a dive off the dam. It was brilliant. It was clear blue, proper clear blue, water. And all the boys wanted to do was to go for a swim – and there were big jumps. This was day seven. This was us getting a breather. A bit of fucking down-time. Enjoying ourselves. Having a laugh. The turbine had arrived and the mission had been accomplished.
7 September 2008
McNab: I made the news by launching a scathing public attack on the British government's treatment of its troops. My comments came after a poll revealed that two-thirds of the public thought the level of care for servicemen was 'disgraceful'. I had commissioned the ICM poll, which found that three-quarters of the 3,040 adults questioned believed the Ministry of Defence did not support troops once they were discharged. In the first poll of its kind, the survey found that 76 per cent believed the government's commitment to the psychological care of veterans was 'inadequate'. Almost half (49 per cent) of those questioned said they would be willing to pay an extra penny in income tax to help former servicemen with financial difficulties. I said at the time: 'What we have at the moment is a time-bomb of post-traumatic stress disorder that will go off in the next ten to fifteen years in people who have experienced the horrors of the current conflicts. It annoys me that we continually get politicians of all persuasions jumping on the back of military success only for the same politicians not to back them [servicemen] with money when they leave.'
September 2008
Captain Alan 'Barney' Barnwell, 845 Naval Air Squadron
Early in September my crew was back in Camp Bastion as the Sea King HRF [Helmand Reaction Force] once again. This is usually an arduous seven-day duty with minimum sleep, and maximum coffee, but everyone likes it as you get interesting and crucial tasks, which give a great sense of satisfaction when completed. Also it has some autonomy, where you can make a certain amount of your own decisions rather than implementing someone else's. It exercises your thinking muscles. The down-side is that throughout the day you are at thirty mins' notice to move and at night sixty mins'. Often we were airborne much quicker, especially when escorting the CH47 MERT [Chinook medical team].
This particular day in question, the second tasking Sea King from Kandahar was unserviceable so we were tasked to pick up some under-slung loads [USL], one from Bastion to Garmsir and then back to Lashkar Gah to pick up another to return to Camp Bastion. The other Sea King would act as escort. Under-slung loads are very useful for carrying oversized stores and in the past I had carried 105mm light guns, even old Land Rovers. But in Afghanistan the altitude and the high summer temperatures have a debilitating effect on the aircraft's performance so the loads must be carefully weighed and the aircraft performance calculations, which include fuel carried, must be diligently made. The distance to the first drop-off was about forty-five miles, then twenty-five to Lash and then pick up some ammo. We would be really light by then and the twenty miles back to Bastion would be a piece of piss.
I calculated the weights, speed about 60–70 knots with a USL, distances, timings, etc. It would be tight but we could make it. The load, we were told, was support weapons for the FOB, so it was high priority. We briefed as a section with the other aircraft crew as usual and got the latest int update for the areas we were going to: Nad Ali and Marhja were pretty hot again with probable AAA[enemy artillery] nearby. I was not overly concerned as we planned to give them a wide berth even though they were on our direct track. We lifted from the spots and headed to the load park 500 metres away. Usually it is the CH47 [Chinook] which does the USL as they have a much greater capacity, so I was hoping the load team had got the load right.
When we got to the load, they didn't seem to be surprised it was a Sea King, which was a good start. Not so good was this mountain of boxes they had in the net for us to lift! The load was the size of a small caravan. I was a bit concerned: if it was as heavy as it was large we would never get it airborne. It was still only 7 a.m. – not too hot – so we had a bit more power than usual. So we set up to give it a go. The load was hooked up and we gingerly raised the collective. As we reached max power, it slowly lifted up. Petchy, my co-pilot, was flying the smoothest he ever had to coax the lumbering beast into the air. We continued to rise at an infinitesimal rate, and as we transitioned into wind I realized we did not have enough air speed to turn and therefore would have to fly over the camp. Apart from it being against standing orders, there was the matter of the caravan-type load underneath and its refusal to fly like an aircraft. If it became uncontrollable, I would have to jettison it. Not a great idea when flying over the accommodation tents of a Para battalion. They might not take too kindly to being flattened by some boot-neck who can't fly properly.
The seconds ticked slowly by and we passed over the camp fence on our way south. As we struggled higher, we realized our load was bulky rather than heavy, which has its own problems. As we accelerated, the load started to swing: this made the whole helicopter stutter from side to side. To stop this we had to slow down. I thought: It must be Petchy – he can't fly for toffee! So I took control. Shit! It felt horrible. Every time we went past forty-five knots, it felt like some enormous hand was grabbing us from underneath and pushing us from side to side. We were about a third of the way there. The stores were important, and I didn't want to fail the task. 'No, we won't turn back,' I said to myself. I recalculated time and distance, recalculated fuel. Well, if we went straight over Nad Ali and Marhja, we could still make it. As we approached Nad Ali, an Apache called that he was in contact. I thought: Shit. OK, we need to avoid that area. Try to increase speed. Shit, more oscillations. How bad do I need to drop the load? I can't, important stores. Shit.
Travelling around Helmand province at 2,000 feet above ground at forty-five knots with a caravan-like load underneath was starting to feel like I was walking around Leicester Square naked with a target pinned to my arse saying: 'Kick me!' In short, decidedly uncomfortable. I thought: New plan. Let's get the load to Garmsir. Then we'll have to divert, get some fuel at the Yanks' place and carry on to Lash. OK, we'll be about an hour and a half behind schedule but we'll get the job done as long as we get to Garmsir without being shot down.
Eventually we dropped off the load and headed for the diversion and refuel, landing on at our minimum allowed fuel. We only took on enough to get back to Bastion as we had a load at Lash to pick up. Hope this one isn't a caravan, I thought. We routed to Lash, feeling particularly proud and happy. We had achieved part one and we were now doing 120 knots again. We lined up for our approach into Lash, zooming past the rooftops just feet below at full speed making a tactical arrival. Coming over the fence, I saw the load by the first HLS [helicopter landing site] spot. Phew, that one's not too big and the empty ammo cases should fly well, I thought. We set ourselves in the hover, hooked on, and the marshaller indicated us to lift. We pulled up the collective, and more. We were now at a forty-foot hover, nicely above the protected walls but going nowhere. I thought: More power. We're at maximum. Try a smidge more. Watch the temperatures. But there wasn't a single movement of the load, not a millimetre. 'Shit! Put her down, Petchy,' I said. The poor Sea King had been wheezing like an asthmatic at the end of a marathon. This load was going nowhere by Sea King: the 'empty' ammo boxes were full! We gave our best sorry expressions, dropped the load hook and made a quick departure. We landed back at Bastion and debriefed the Ops Room on what had happened, then went back to our tent for coffee. It was only 10 a.m.: lots of time left for more fun that day.
Epilogue by Andy McNab
I was working in America in November 2008 when a friend emailed me with some sad news. Captain Kate Philp, whom I had interviewed for this book in Afghanistan a couple of months earlier, had been involved in a tragic incident. The Sun had revealed that a large roadside bomb, believed to contain some fifty kilos of explosive, had gone off next to her 25-ton Warrior 'mini tank'. Kate's left foot was blown apart, which meant she became the first woman soldier to lose a
limb since the 'war on terror' in Afghanistan had begun in 2001. Furthermore, she is believed to be the first woman in the British Army to become a combat amputee.
There was even worse news for another family. The blast had killed Gurkha Colour Sergeant Krishna Dura, thirty-six, as well as injuring two more soldiers. The patrol had been going to pick up a sniper team when they were attacked near Musa Qa'leh. The large bomb was the first to penetrate a Warrior in Helmand province.
Kate's company commander told the Sun: 'We remain in awe of the courage and selflessness with which she has met this tragic event.' A senior military source added: 'Kate has not complained at all about what has happened to her and does not regret a moment of her military service.' Donald and Susan Philp, her parents, told the newspaper: 'Her morale is extremely high, thanks to her enormous courage and determination, but also thanks to the wonderful care she has received.' In a prepared statement, Kate added: 'My thoughts and condolences go to the family of Colour Sergeant Krishna and to those who were also injured in the attack. And my deepest thanks go to the medical staff and others in Afghanistan and UK who have taken such great care of me.' As Kate was treated in Birmingham's Selly Oak Hospital, her visitors included the Prince of Wales. I was glad to learn recently from her father that Kate is making good progress as she recovers from her serious injuries.
