On arriving at the forming up point (FUP), I transferred to the Viking with the FST. It was not long before our troops came under heavy fire in the Green Zone and the FST was directing aircraft in to drop ordinance. The Apache attack helicopters in support of us were very reluctant to attack any compounds without proper confirmation of Taliban occupation. They were being cautious because our own guys were now actually in the Green Zone where they were coming under very heavy fire. As they tried to move forward they came under fire from another compound nearby which they initially thought was a school. The Taliban were firing automatic weapons out of every window of each compound and our guys were pinned down in desperate need of air support in order to regain the initiative and maintain momentum.
While the Apaches were hesitating, the Americans had overheard on radio transmissions and, having been given the coordinates, swept in and dropped a 1,000lb Joint Defence Attack Munition (JDAM) directly onto the target.
While this was going on, I looked across and noticed another Viking vehicle. Running across to it, I discovered the air conditioning was on which was just total bliss. It was the beginning of May now and the temperatures ranged from the mid-forties in the day to the mid-twenties at night, which is a nightmare to sleep in. I was just about to jump into it when Teddy called over from his WMIK and asked me if I wanted to use my .338. With that, I grabbed my rifle and ammunition and mounted the empty Viking. Standing up through the top hatch, I was observing a group of small buildings when an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) whizzed past me. Everyone returned fire with various weapons, including .50 cal heavy machine guns. The enemy responded with a few bursts but we maintained the pressure by keeping them under a heavy volume of fire. RPGs are nasty because they spread shrapnel all over the place when they impact, and so can be really deadly.
The Taliban continued launching RPGs at us, one after another. Whenever we saw the dust that flew up from where they were launched, we concentrated our fire on those locations. Just as Pete spotted a window from which some of the RPGs were coming, one flew past about 5 metres above my head. I dropped as deep as I could into the vehicle as it exploded behind us, the blast making our bodies shudder. Pete launched a Javelin missile and scored a direct hit. This slowed the enemy fire down considerably but there were still the odd few cracks of rounds flying past us.
This continued with fire being put down by both sides for another ten minutes or so. Another RPG flew over the top of ‘Strikey’s’ WMIK bonnet just as he was shouting, ‘Over there! Reference that building with three windows, next to the tallest building!’ I ‘zapped’ it with my rangefinder, pinpointing the target at 628 metres. I took into account the wind aspect while thinking, ‘This is it!’ My heart was racing as I aimed and took up the first pressure on the trigger. There was an incredibly bright flash as yet another RPG left that particular window and I immediately put two rounds in quick succession directly into it. I will never know if I killed the man with the RPG, but the firing ceased immediately. I guess he had either been hit and was now dead or I missed and he made good his escape, living to fight another day. Either way, the job was done and the threat neutralised.
The company cleared the built up area and we moved around to pick it up. All the guys had been ‘in contact’ with the enemy for around twelve hours and were completely exhausted. The most gratifying aspect of the operation for all of us was that the objective had been achieved without incurring any casualties. It was estimated that there were around ninety-five enemy dead, so the operation was deemed a great success.
Morale was really very high, but we had to stay professional and disciplined because we now had to move to Phase 2 and defend against the inevitable counterattacks. This phase of the operation would last for at least a week and became known as the battle of HBK. In the meantime we occupied three compounds in the area, each platoon establishing a defended base from which to deploy patrols.
All the snipers, two WMIKS and two Vikings helped 7 Platoon man its compound. Three permanent vehicle checkpoints were to be built nearby and a further three bases, designated north, central and south, to be established and manned by the Afghan National Army (ANA). We set out claymore mines and tripflares around the area and blasted down some of the trees to open up the arcs of fire. I recall there were poppies as far as the eye could see, and cannabis plants dotted around all the canals and drainage ditches.
At this stage in the operation, we received information that sixty Taliban fighters were now in the area and attempting to surround our position. The tension rose as we busied ourselves filling sandbags and carrying them to various points, including up ladders on to the roofs to build up our defences. In the event, nothing happened. We stagged on day and night while continuing to fill more sandbags, digging out the earth from the compound’s garden in the intense heat. At the same time, we were also felling trees to prevent the Taliban from climbing up them or using them as cover.
All the while, we poured with sweat as we toiled away improving the defences of our base. One of the new guys, a young lad called Troy, was clearly suffering quite badly from heat exhaustion, so I let Parky, his section commander, know. He asked me to keep an eye on him, so I sat with Troy and gave him some water, made sure he was in the shade and kept him talking while generally making sure he was all right. He was a really good bloke who would remain a friend.
As I mentioned, nothing happened that first day apart from stagging on. All we really saw, as we continued working on our defences, were civilians and farmers leaving the area as they had clearly been warned to expect a battle. On the second night at around two in the morning, we heard gunfire in the distance and saw the odd tracer flying skywards. The PVCP-North (Permanent Vehicle Check Point) was under attack attacked and the mortars were putting up illumination flares. Amazingly, the ANA troops manning the checkpoint stood their ground and repelled the attack.
On the following day, we were tasked with patrolling the area to ensure that it was safe for the CSM (Company Sergeant Major) to bring in food and water. We received a load of ‘Menu B’ rations which were not one of my favourites, but I tended to spread my melted Yorkie bars over the biscuits. To be honest, the heat tended to sap away my appetite anyway, and we had more to worry about because over the next few nights, the Taliban mounted attacks in the north and central areas. These often only lasted half an hour or so and seemed more like probing attacks.
One morning, an Afghan local approached the compound with his hands in the air. I made sure I had ‘eyes on him’ with my rifle. As he came up to the main area, I could see that he was an older man, maybe fifty years of age. I still had my telescopic sight trained on him but could see no sign of weapons or any evidence of anything being concealed under his robes, so I shouted down to the platoon commander for the interpreter. It transpired that the compound we were occupying belonged to this man and he wished to return later with his two sons to pick up some belongings.
Sure enough, that afternoon, they appeared and started to pull up their robes to show that they were not suicide bombers. This was a drill that the Paras had instilled into them, so we did not even have to ask them to do this. They were allowed into the compound where they began putting clothes and personal effects into bags. The old man then began to dig in an area of the poppy field. Teddy watched him carefully, his hand on his pistol in case he produced a weapon, but eventually he pulled out a yellow bucket. The interpreter asked the old man what it contained and he announced that it was opium, peeling off the lid to show the golden brown colour of pure opium ready to be turned into heroin. As one of the sons walked over with another bucket, the interpreter told us that this bucket would feed his family for an entire year.
The opium would be sold for $1,000 to a drug baron, who would in turn sell it on for around $10,000. It would eventually end up as street heroin worth around $100,000 and be bought by ‘smack heads’ in the West. It is the heroin and lucrative drugs trade that funds the Taliban, with ninety per cent of the heroin i
n the UK coming from Afghanistan. We had to watch this trade going on around us, but were not allowed to take any action against the drug barons or stop the opium production. To do so before better alternatives could be offered to the farmers would have wrecked the local economy and acted as a recruiting sergeant for the Taliban.
We remained in the area for another week and with our support the ANA continued successfully to repel attacks, enabling us at the same time to get ready to leave. After a few more days spent patrolling, we withdrew and handed over to the 1st Battalion The Worcestershire & Sherwood Foresters Regiment.
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.
Sniper in Helmand: Six Months on the Frontline Page 6
