Combat Camera (22 page)

“We need to sort out this mess with the kit,” he said.

Nobody said anything. Nobody leapt up to help.

Ross looked menacing for a moment longer and then walked out.

“What’s his problem?” said Harriet. “He had to carry his own bags? Who gives a shit?”

“He needs a big hug,” said Dougie. “Well, his ego needs a big hug.”

I saw Ross again before lunch. He’d finally managed to get all his kit together and was drinking a coffee outside the office.

“Have we done something wrong?” he asked. “I walked in there earlier, and it was very frosty.”

Sometimes he really did talk like a thespian, rather than a war reporter.

“Oh, you know what it’s like,” I mumbled. “Office environment. People get a bit scratchy.”

Even with the kit issue sorted, Ross continued to dominate the conversation in the office. The focus now shifted onto his lack of “bang-bang” footage. He was due to return to the UK in two days, but was already making plans to return as soon as possible.

“He’s a broken man,” said Dougie. “He never heard so much as a shot fired.”

“And the story is
progress
,” Faulkner said. “It might not be what he wants, but it’s the facts.”

I picked up the TV remote control and switched on BFBS.
*
I was tired of hearing about Ross Kemp. BFBS was showing a new series called
Our War
, based on helmet-cam footage taken by British soldiers in Afghanistan. The first episode showed members of 1 Royal Anglians on patrol in Now Zad back in 2007. They passed a series of deserted buildings, all bomb-damaged and crumbling, and then came under fire.

“This isn’t good,” said Ali, as the soldiers screamed orders and returned fire. “Where are the key messages in this?”

“We have thought about this,” said Dougie. “We’re going to do a ‘Then and Now’ piece. In the next few days, we’ll put out a story about how much Now Zad has improved.”

The
Our War
footage had been cleared by the MoD back in the UK, but they now wanted the JMOC to highlight “modern-day” Now Zad. Dougie had volunteered to go over there and write an article for the British press. He was going to take some pictures of the town centre and interview a few of the locals.

Unfortunately a NATO jet had dropped a number of bombs into the centre of Now Zad only two weeks earlier, killing at least nine civilians.

“Dougie, I think talking to the locals might not be the best plan,” Faulkner said. “They’re still clearing the rubble.”

On the plus side, the number of significant acts continued to fall. By Sunday night it was down to forty-five. A Royal Marine had been caught by an IED blast during a vehicle move in Nahr-e Saraj, but had escaped with relatively minor injuries (if a damaged airway can be considered “minor”). The base at Lashkar Gah had been on the receiving end of an attempted IDF attack, but the projectile had missed by some 600 metres.

Ross Kemp and his team left us the following morning. He had been very quiet since his return from the field, spending a lot of time in his tent. He wasn’t a “broken man”, of course, but he was seriously disappointed. Progress or no progress, he wanted some “bang-bang” footage, and he hadn’t got it. He was now looking to return to Helmand as soon as possible, before the fighting season was over completely. Faulkner raised the issue in his weekly report, summarizing the JMOC’s tasks and priorities:

A “heads-up” that the Tiger Aspect team (spurred by Kemp in particular) are looking for a return to theatre in July. It is clear that despite three weeks here without any noticeable kinetic incidents, Kemp is still trying to be involved in some “action” as per his previous embeds and create interest in his musings via this angle, despite the changes in Afghan life he has seen.

No sooner was Ross on his way back to the UK than things started to pick up. The US Marines took more casualties, triggering a large IED during a foot patrol in Sangin. Five of them were flown into Bastion, one without his legs. Another four US Marines were flown into Bastion – also from Sangin – after their foot patrol triggered two IEDs: one died from his wounds, the other three lost various limbs. Meanwhile – still in Sangin – a US Marine had died after insurgents had engaged his patrol with an RPG.

“Sounds like it’s kicking off again,” Faulkner said at the brief the following evening. “Sixty significant events across theatre today, which doesn’t sound too bad, but quite a few are coming out of Sangin.”

He went through the latest incidents. Three US Marines had come into Bastion with gunshot wounds following two separate
engagements in Sangin. During one of the engagements, a US jet had dropped a 500-lb bomb over the insurgents’ firing point, forcing them to withdraw. An Afghan child from the same area was later brought into Bastion with multiple gunshot and shrapnel wounds. The cause of the injuries was not known. An investigation had been launched.

The following day – 15th June – the hospital at Bastion went “black”. That meant they were temporarily unable to take any more admissions. Eighteen casualties were brought in during a four-hour period. For several hours afterwards, casualties normally bound for Bastion had to be redirected to other ISAF hospitals across theatre.

The JMOC had more pressing concerns, however. PJHQ were upset because we’d just released a story about Ross Kemp to the
Daily Star
. His presence in Afghanistan was supposed to remain a secret from the British media for another two days. Sky was due to make a big announcement on the 17th about the third series of
Ross Kemp in Afghanistan
. Apparently PJHQ had promised them media silence until then.

The story in question involved a young soldier who had just arrived at Bastion. Back in the UK, he’d designed a T-shirt bearing the legend “I Joined the Army to Meet Ross Kemp”. It was in his kit bag, along with the rest of his uniform. Having discovered that Ross was in the neighbourhood, he wandered over to the JMOC with his T-shirt and asked for a picture with the big man. Ross was only too happy to oblige, posing alongside the young soldier and his T-shirt. Ali had taken the picture, and Dougie had sent it to the
Daily Star
.

“We’re getting bollocked for releasing a shot of Ross Kemp,” Dougie said. “It’s ridiculous.”

We were sitting in the late-afternoon sunshine, drinking coffee. Mick had joined us, shaking his head as he stepped out of the office.

“A Chinook has just flown in with another load of multiple amputees,” he said. “And they’re worried about a picture of Ross Kemp. They’ve got no sense of perspective.”

“Exactly,” Dougie said. “Think about all the guys who’ve had limbs blown off. If you put them in a group photo, you’d be shocked. PJHQ wouldn’t want you to see that.”

I thought about the numerous amputees I’d seen at Chetwynd Barracks in Chilwell during my mobilization training. The soldier in the stores, issuing our kit, was missing an arm. The soldier in the headquarters, sorting out all our pay and paperwork, was missing an arm. The ex-Gunner in the suit, giving us a presentation on the importance of insurance, was missing an arm. For all I knew, they could’ve been missing their legs as well, their injuries hidden by their trousers.

“Someone needs to report all these injuries,” Mick said.

I pondered his words. Lieutenant Colonel Mike McErlain had already had a go, sending his hospital diary to the
Sunday Mirror
– but was that enough? Should it be left at that? Was it the final word on the alarming normality of traumatic amputations at Bastion? Or should the reporting continue as long as the war continued?

I left Dougie and Mick and went to Heroes for some time to myself. It was my birthday, but I hadn’t told anybody. It didn’t feel right bringing it up. Just a few hundred yards away, the hospital was full to bursting point, many of the beds taken by fresh amputees. It was not a day for celebrating.

I bought a coffee – my fifth of the day – and sat in the corner at one of the tables farthest from the television.
Jackass
was showing on BFBS, the volume turned right up. I took my birthday cards out of my trouser-leg pocket, reading through the messages again. Four of them had arrived that morning, right on time, my family and friends not letting me down. Normally I read my mail in private,
but that afternoon it didn’t matter. My fellow coffee drinkers – US Marines, mostly – were too busy watching the movie, laughing at the pratfalls, to notice a sentimental British captain in the corner.

My parents had sent me a card with a picture of a springer spaniel on the front, feigning indifference to a tennis ball right in front of his nose. Inside my mother had written:

Liebster Christian,

For your birthday I wish you everything you dream of and loads of health and happiness too. We are looking forward so much to have you home again soon. The dogs will go mad! I don’t know if this card will arrive in time, but we will be thinking of you every minute of the day (we do that anyway!). And I must not tell you that we will have a bottle of bubbly – that would not be fair!

All my love as always, stay safe,

Your Mum xxxxx

Beneath my mother’s words, my father had also written a message, his sentiments a little more concise:

We are missing you loads here, especially the dogs. Keep your powder dry and don’t let the buggers get you down.

I smiled at my father’s brevity, then put the cards away. On the television,
Jackass
was coming to an end. For the final scene, the cast had filmed themselves being “blown up” in slow motion, standing in the centre of a lounge rigged with small amounts of carefully placed explosives. Bits of vase, bookcase and piano flew towards the camera, all of the cast gurning for comic effect as the shock wave engulfed them.

Nobody in Heroes was laughing. We all watched the explosion in stony-faced silence, trying to imagine what it would really be like, caught inside the radius of an actual bomb blast.

Maybe some of the Marines already knew.

I went back to the JMOC, thinking about the hospital again, thinking about what Mick had said. Who exactly was going to report all these injuries? The embeds who came through the JMOC got up close and personal with the troops all the time, and they bore witness to their suffering, but it was war reporting on a controlled scale, a microscale. They lived with a unit for a week, they wrote their story, and then they went home. It was fine as far as it went, but it was a very tight focus. There was no sense of relativity. How often was this kind of stuff happening? Were these injuries normal? What was “normal” anyway?

I was due to catch a late flight to Lashkar Gah for a short task, but that wasn’t for another five hours. I still had plenty of time to loiter in the office, in and around the vicinity of the Ops Watch laptop, checking all the hospital admissions for that day:

05.46 Nad-e Ali

45 Commando, Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat B
*

1st/2nd degree petrol burn 6% of right leg, 2% of left leg

06.37 Nahr-e Saraj

Scots Dragoon Guards, Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat A

Chest pains

08.14 Nahr-e Saraj

British Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat B

Appendicitis

09.06 Nahr-e Saraj

Scots Dragoon Guards, Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat C

Recurring achilles injury/infected tendon

11.31 Nahr-e Saraj

US Marines, dismounted patrol IED strike: 1 x Cat A

Both legs – below knee amp

11.33 Nahr-e Saraj

ISAF civilian, Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat A

Dehydration

11.58 Nahr-e Saraj

Afghan civilian: 1 x Cat A

2 x gunshot wounds to chest, gunshot wound to left arm (ISAF not involved)

12.03 Musa Qalah

Afghan civilian vehicle IED strike: 1 x Cat A, 1 x Cat B

Skull fracture, soft tissue injuries to face, right tib/fib open Bilateral lower ext fracture

12.43 Lashkar Gah

British Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat B

Torsion, left testicle

12.52 Nahr-e Saraj

US Marines, IED strike: 1 x Cat A

Shrapnel right knee, bleeding

13.49 Sangin

US Marines, dismounted patrol IED strike: 3 x Cat A, 4 x Cat B

Triple amp – both legs, right hand

Shrapnel to face – bleeding

Shrapnel to face – bleeding

Triple amp – bleeding

Shrapnel to face – bleeding

Shrapnel to face – bleeding

Left perforated eardrum, lacerations to the left side of face, possible jaw fracture

15.18 Nahr-e Saraj

C Sqn, Scots Dragoon Guards: 2 x Cat B

Heat Injury x 2

15.23 Nahr-e Saraj South

Afghan civilian males: 2 x Cat A

Gunshot wound to left shoulder

IED – frag injuries to right leg and right arm

17.09 Nad-e Ali

42 Commando, Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat C

Severe ankle sprain

17.29 Nahr-e Saraj

S Coy, 1 Rifles: 1 x Cat A

Heat injury and spasms

18.17 Lashkar Gah

B Coy, 4 Scots, Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat C

Dislocated patella

19.06 Kajaki,

US Marines, 1 x Cat A

Heat injury

19.55 Nad-e Ali

M Coy, 42 Commando, Non-Battle Injury: 1 x Cat C

Infected red eye

At least the British injuries seemed fairly innocuous – just some heat casualties and a few knocks and sprains. It was the Americans who had taken the real hits, suffering another God-awful afternoon in Sangin.

For the sake of balance, I had a look at the “credit” column as well. It was always good to know the insurgents weren’t having much fun either:

10.05 Musa Qala

US Marines positively identified 4 insurgents establishing a firing position. Confirmed no civilians in area, then fired 2 Excal rounds (155-mm artillery) onto target, which impacted with good effect. Friendly forces then observed 2 more insurgents approaching the strike site with Soviet-style weapons. Friendly forces called repeat and fired another 2 rounds, which also impacted with good effect. 5 insurgents killed in action (unconfirmed)
.