Commando

by Chris Terrill

  I put my hand on his shoulder but there is no comforting him.

  'I want to do it again now,' he breathes. 'Please! Please! Let me do it again now!'

  Terry is as wretchedly upset and distressed as I have ever seen him – or just about anyone else come to that. I can do nothing for him except to be here and keep a hand on his shoulder.

  19 October

  Terry goes to the sickbay where he has an appointment to see the doctor. His legs have recovered but we have all advised him to get some medical attention. None of us, however, could have guessed the outcome. It seems that Terry might be suffering from something called chronic compartment syndrome. This is a condition that typically affects the legs and is characterised by pain and swelling caused by exercise. It is apparently accompanied by numbness and difficulty in moving the foot. The symptoms dissipate quickly when activity stops but are prone to return. It is brought on by the failure of the fascia or membrane that surrounds the muscles to expand as more blood is pumped in as the result of exercise. It all seems to fit in with the symptoms, but Terry will need more examinations before the doctors can decide on the best treatment. For now, Terry must move to Hunter Company where he can be observed and eventually treated before he'll be allowed to return to training.

  Everyone left in 924 Troop is sorry to see Terry go. He is such a character, and even when plagued with crippling self-doubts, he always remained cheerful and ready to encourage and support anyone else. He is not leaving Lympstone of course and will hopefully be back in training sooner rather than later – albeit in another troop. I certainly intend to stay in touch with him, as do the rest of 924.

  24 October

  I have driven to Dungeness in Kent to join Dave Nicholson, Bertie Kerr and some other YOs on a four-day pre-operational deployment 'acquaint' called OPTAG (Operational Training and Advisory Group). Everyone flying out to Afghanistan must do this course, which is specifically aimed at the very particular demands that serving in that country might place on military personnel.

  This becomes abundantly apparent from the first lecture of the day which is about mines and mine clearance. About a hundred men and women from all three services crowd round a huge collection of mines – large and small – that have been placed in a small enclosure under some trees.

  'Afghanistan is the most heavily mined country in the world,' says a mine-clearance sergeant matter-of-factly. 'You need to be constantly vigilant because by no means all minefields have been mapped. Many of these mines are left over from the days of the Russian invasion but the Taliban are also laying new ones and especially roadside bombs.'

  Bertie and some other Royal Marines YOs take notes conscientiously.

  'This mine,' says the sergeant, pointing at a large brown cylindrical disc, 'is designed to take out heavy vehicles. Once the pressure of a tank or personnel carrier is exerted upon it, it will explode, sending a molten slug upwards and right through the top of the vehicle. This creates a massive vacuum which will rip limbs right off the torso . . .'

  Bertie and the others continue to make notes, but it strikes me that this is information that would be difficult to forget. Indeed, much of what I am hearing so far is pretty well imprinted on my memory already. After being shown the huge variety of mines it is possible to come across in Afghanistan we are shown how to get ourselves out of a minefield should we have wandered into one. Something that can happen all too easily by all accounts.

  Simply put, this involves lying on your belly and crawling forward very slowly pushing a long piece of thin metal, like a knitting needle, into the ground every five centimetres. If you hit something hard it may be a mine so you mark the spot and crawl round it. Not exactly hi-tech and rather time-consuming, but effective nonetheless.

  Later in the day Bertie joins others in various role-playing scenarios that use 'actors' to represent Afghanis. Some take the part of Taliban insurgents and others play innocent civilians, but they all look the same – which is precisely the point. The Taliban wear no uniform and that they might be carrying an AK47 does not necessarily mark them out as an obvious enemy because many ordinary Afghanis carry AK47s as well. Bertie and the others work through various situations which call for instant decisions about whether to shoot or not. In one instance a car full of shouting, screaming 'Afghan' men shooting weapons out of the window comes careering towards a British outpost and the officer in charge has to decide in a split second whether to open fire or not. Those that chose to give the order to shoot were wrong to do so. It turns out that in this instance the car was carrying a typically excited and ebullient Afghan wedding party. Much of the training in OPTAG is to acquaint British soldiers and marines with the essential culture of Afghanistan and to provide a basic understanding of the people. Everyone is reminded that while there is a very real threat to contend with when it comes to the Taliban, there is also a different sort of battle to be fought – the battle for the hearts and minds of the ordinary Afghanis. It is made abundantly clear that once the support of the people is lost the counter-insurgency initiative against the Taliban would become much more difficult to implement.

  It is impressive to see the nature of this training together with the importance that is being attached to relations with the ordinary people of Afghanistan, and even though the scenarios being acted out are fairly two-dimensional, it's certainly getting people like Bertie to think through the sorts of situations they might face just a few weeks from now.

  I am struck by the surreal nature of the location we are in and where these various scenarios are being acted out. Where I am standing now is a mock-up of a typical British/ American fort like the ones built throughout Helmand, Afghanistan's southern province where most of the battles against the Taliban are taking place. It's pretty authentic, with lookout posts and fortified ramparts, but on closer inspection you can't help noticing that it is actually set within a sort of combo-city which might either be called 'Belhdad' or 'Bagfast'. Up until a few years ago most of the military training here in Dungeness was for troops going to serve in Northern Ireland – specifically Belfast. For that reason a mock-up of parts of Belfast was built here complete with residential housing, corner shops and pubs. Since then, of course, Iraq and its capital have become the primary focus of British military interest, so bits of 'Belfast' were transformed into representations of downtown Baghdad. That is why I can see in front of me a vast graffiti-covered poster of Saddam Hussein which has been plastered to the side of a house in the 'Crumlin Road'. Now, of course, 'Belhdad' or 'Bagfast' has had to make room for a little bit of Afghanistan as well. It's all a bit spooky actually – a strange and slightly disturbing representation of recent British military experience.

  After we have finished the lectures and working through various scenarios, we attend a language course in Pashtu given by a very animated Afghani teacher. He makes it clear from the beginning that as far as he is concerned the British forces are welcome in Afghanistan and he promptly thanks everyone in the room for being here and preparing to go and support the 'government of his people'. So, there is no doubting his politics; the rudiments of Pushtu, however, are not made quite as clear. It's a complex language and made all the more difficult because we're not trying to learn simple holiday phrases. We are being taught words that will fit the purpose – things like wash cache (weapons cache), laasi bam (grenade), chaodedunki toki (explosives), sarak sara bam (roadside bomb), insaani bam (suicide bomber), luma (booby trap), and phrases like tsa dawal wasla? (what type of weapons?) and cheri prate di? (where are they hidden?). It's a far cry from 'Where is the nearest restaurant?', 'Do you serve cold beer?' or 'Do you sell suntan lotion?'

  Attending OPTAG is a fascinating but sobering experience and makes the prospect of going to Afghanistan much more real and exciting but at the same time more alarming and disquieting.

  'What did you think of OPTAG?' I ask Bertie at the end of the last day.

  'Really useful. It makes you think though – up to now training has been training
but from here on in it's all gearing up for the real thing. I can still hardly believe I will be in Afghanistan for Christmas.'

  The next few weeks are frenetic. I join 924 Troop for continued practice runs on the Bottom Field as well as various 'heavy-load carries' – that is marching or yomping carrying bergens weighing around seventy pounds. We spend a lot of time on the ranges where the recruits continue to get to grips with firing their SA80 assault rifles at various distances ranging from twenty-five metres to three hundred metres. I also travel to Scotland to join Bertie and his YO batch for their last major exercise, called 'Final Nail'. This consists of a series of amphibious assaults all the way down the British coast launched from a Royal Navy warship. It's not directly relevant to Afghanistan but it is a dramatic reminder that the Royal Marines are part of the Royal Navy and, as such, are specialist amphibious shock troops. That they are expected to adapt to fighting in a land-locked country like Afghanistan is testimony to their tactical adaptability as well as their strategic value to this country as front-line infantry.

  3 December

  I have been back to London for the weekend. It's not long now before I head out to Afghanistan so I wanted to nip into the Fitzroy Lodge boxing gym yesterday and say goodbye to all my friends there. I also took the opportunity of driving down to Worthing on the south coast to see my parents as I may not get another chance before I go. Today, however, being Sunday, I am taking Laura, my assistant, to Wales to see Bertie Kerr and to meet his parents at their house in Brecon.

  We arrive, as planned, just in time for lunch. Bertie is there with his girlfriend Kate who we already know from the summer ball. Bertie's father Mark, former admiral in the Royal Navy and the perfect host, offers us drinks as soon as we cross the threshold and his charming mother Lou bids us almost immediately to the dining table. We also meet Bertie's artist sister Nell as well as his brother Harry who has come up for the weekend from Bristol where he is at drama school. Lunch is a sumptuous traditional English roast with all the trimmings and Lou clearly doesn't believe in serving small helpings – maybe a sign of having a Royal Marine for a son!

  After lunch we move to the sitting room and gather round a warming log fire to have our coffee. Much to Bertie's embarrassment, Lou wants to show us something he wrote when he was just five years old at prep school entitled 'What I want to do when I grow up'. She reads it out loud.

  ' "When I grow up I am going to be a Royal Marine because I would like to be in a war. And because my dad was in the navy and I would like to copy him a bit. I might jump out of an aeroplane or I might even jump off a cliff."'

  'That's so sweet!' says Kate. 'Have you jumped off any cliffs yet?'

  'No, not yet,' says Bertie, still embarrassed.

  'And you've never changed your mind?' says Laura. 'You've always wanted to be a marine?'

  'Yes,' says Bertie. 'It was always going to be the marines, I think.'

  Later in the afternoon, when Bertie and Kate have gone into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, Laura and I chat to Mark and Lou.

  'What do you think about Bertie going to Afghanistan?' I ask.

  'Well, it's not what you would wish for your son,' confides Mark thoughtfully. 'Going straight out to a front-line job just days after he passes out, but he seems happy.'

  'I told him he had options,' says Lou quickly, 'that he didn't have to go if he didn't want to.'

  'Yes, which he has steadfastly chosen to ignore!' says Mark. 'The thing we worry about is that he may have to oversee the killing of other folk as well as maybe doing it himself. That is a huge pressure on a young man. Perhaps even worse will be having to come to terms with the loss of his own men.'

  'You were in the Royal Navy,' I say. 'What advice would you give Bertie?'

  'To be honest, I don't feel qualified to give him much advice. I was thirty years in the navy and never saw a single shot fired in anger, so what can I say to someone who is almost certainly going to see and take part in action . . . ?'

  Mark pauses for a moment and looks over to Lou with a reassuring smile.

  'Actually,' he continues, 'I think I would simply urge him to look after his men. They are his biggest responsibility.'

  'He will of course,' says Lou. 'His old headmaster at the Oratory said once that he knew Bertie would make a good officer, describing him as having "the perfect mix of virility and sensitivity".'

  Bertie's brother, the student actor, is not in the least military-minded and neither is his sister, but they are devoted to Bertie and have clearly both thought through the implications of his deployment to Afghanistan.

  'The thing is, we're all in awe of Bertie,' confides Harry. 'He's such a high-calibre person that we know he'll do well. We have our own views about the war going on out there but if we have to be there I'm pleased people like Bertie are going out because he will make a difference

  Laura and I eventually get on the road and bid our farewells to Bertie and his delightful family, saying we will see them again at Bertie's pass-out ceremony next week. It has been a privilege to meet them all, but we both feel sympathy for them – it can't be easy reconciling their immense pride in Bertie with their natural concern for his safety.

  4 December

  Today is the Bottom Field Pass-out test. It's another do-or-die challenge because passing it means instant graduation to training for the Tarzan assault course, which is essential for anyone hoping to proceed to the commando tests in a bid to win the all-important Green Beret. Failure means backtrooping for the recruits and for me an end to my own personal bid for the Green Beret. To be honest, I'm not at all sure of my chances today because I have been travelling around so much that I've missed large sections of Bottom Field training, even though I've always tried to keep up my fitness wherever I've been. As ever, it's not my cardiovascular fitness that worries me, it's my technique over the obstacles and my various aches, pains and niggles, particularly my left shoulder which is now permanently painful – probably from overuse on the ropes. All I can do is my best – whether that is good enough I am soon to find out.

  09.00

  To my dismay it is pouring with rain so I know, before I start, that the cards are stacked against me. Those blessed ropes are going to be wet and slippery, and today, of course, we are climbing in full fighting order weighing a total of forty-one pounds including weapon (or tripod in my case). I have managed to summit the outside ropes a couple of times now but this was in dry conditions and probably some pounds short of fighting order weight. I have run the assault course several times but again not in the rain and not with full weight – same with the fireman's carry. As for the full regain – I have attempted it a total of seven times and have fallen in the tank seven times. I'm sure I have the strength to do it but mentally I have been in awe of it so my confidence has been in tatters. I just need some self-belief, so I have come out today with a determined attitude.

  As always we tackle the ropes first. I get in line and watch with envy as some of the lads shimmy up seemingly without effort. Others struggle, however, and are clearly having problems with the wetness. At least three that I can see fail to get to the top. It comes to my turn so I grab the rope with grim determination. On the order 'To the top – climb!' I shut my eyes and attempt to exert as much mental power into my climb as possible. Some good it does me.

  I make it to the halfway point but my left shoulder, already hurting, suddenly explodes with pain. It is all I can do to hold onto the rope and not plummet to the ground. Jon Stratford sees I'm in trouble and calls me down. Slowly and very deliberately I let myself fall against the remaining strength of my right arm. My left is only good enough for a fleeting grasp as I continually reposition my right hand further down the rope. I reach the ground in agony knowing that I have pulled a muscle or maybe even partially dislocated my shoulder.

  'How is it, Chris?' asks Jon.

  'Not good,' I reply. 'There's no way I can get round the course, let alone do the full regain.'

  'OK. You better get u
p to the sickbay and get sorted. Give me a ring later.'

  I trudge up to the medical centre to have the shoulder looked at. The doctor reckons I've pulled a muscle and possibly strained some tendons. He tells me to apply hot and cold treatment and puts me on a course of painkillers. He also advises me to get some physiotherapy. I failed Bottom Field Pass-out almost without starting and that, I am assuming, is the end of my chance to proceed to the commando tests. Any of the other lads that might have failed today will get a second chance next week, but I know this shoulder will take more time than that to get better, plus I'm due to fly out to Afghanistan in a couple of weeks, so won't be around for another try. Miserable, I phone Jon Stratford.

  'How's the shoulder?'

  'Painful. The doc reckons I need to rest it for about three weeks.'

  'OK,' says Jon. 'You could retake Bottom Field then – just before Christmas.'

  'No, Jon, I can't. I'm off to Ghaners soon.'

  'Oh yes, of course you are. I forgot. Let me think . . . When do you get back from Afghanistan?'

  'Not sure, but it should be around the beginning of January.'

  'Right. Well, I tell you what, Chris. We don't get onto the Tarzan assault course till early January so if you come back and crack into the Bottom Field as soon as you can you might be able to catch up. It'll be a close thing but if you try and keep up your fitness in Ghaners and work on strengthening that shoulder as soon as it feels better you might be all right. It's worth a try as you've come this far, isn't it?'

  'Yes, Jon,' I say gratefully. 'I'd love to have another crack at the Bottom Field when I'm feeling properly fit.'

  'That's what we'll do then,' says Jon. 'The only thing is, though, you really need to do the endurance course "acquaint" this Thursday. It's just an introduction to the endurance run which is one of the commando tests. It's mostly running so you should be all right to try it.'