Spoken from the Front (15 page)

Feigning confident optimism, we ran in two pairs to our
respective helos and jumped on board. I was on the right,
Chris Fraser-Perry on the left, and before we knew it the helos
were taking off. We just sat there. The fuselage of the Apache
has got a horizontal platform that juts out just below the cockpit
– later I was told that it was the fuel tank – and I could get
a bum cheek on that. We sat one each side of each Apache. I
had my right foot on the Hellfire missile rails and there was a
grab-hold on the side of the cockpit that the pilots use to
climb in.

It was ridiculous. I almost laughed. The helicopter took off,
hovered momentarily, then accelerated over the HQ. I looked
down at my colleagues who were waving and photographing
us from the ground. I even waved back. I didn't expect to see
them again. Here we were, sat on the side of a helicopter gunship,
about to fly into a heavily armed Taliban fortress
defended by an estimated 200 men. The sheer audacity of it
was hard to believe. I forced myself to stop thinking about the
possible morbid consequences and instead focused on what
had to be done ...

We flew off and the plan changed immediately because our
helo, instead of being the first as intended, became the second
in the pair. Both helos flew low over the desert, hit the river
just south of Jugroom Fort, then followed it. We were only
doing about fifty knots, quite low – about 100 feet. You could
see everything below as clear as day, camels and shepherds
going about their business, and here we were sat on these
helicopters about to fly into a heavily armed Taliban fortress.
It felt just unreal.

I also realized, just after taking off, that I hadn't fired my
weapon since arriving in Afghanistan on 24 August. I
thought: Oh, shit. I'd been cleaning it and doing the usual
routine, but I thought: What if it's jammed or not working? So
I had a couple of test fires from the wing of the Apache. I
don't think many people could say they've fired their
personal weapon from the wing of the Apache.

But it alarmed the pilots. They must have heard the gun
going off from right outside their cockpit. They looked
around shocked, wondering what the hell was going on.
They saw me and I must have looked a bit like a naughty
schoolboy sat there having just fired my weapon. They
probably thought I'd had a negligent discharge – when you
fire your weapon by accident. I hadn't. I was just test firing it
and fortunately it worked.

As we approached the fort, I could see all the dust and
smoke, trees burning, buildings bombed to bits, craters. It
was just an awesome image of destruction and chaos. The
bombing from our air support had stopped just before we got
there, but the air was still thick with clouds of dust and
smoke. The first helo went straight in and disappeared into
the smoke. We hung back and paused. I remember feeling
very vulnerable. I sat on the side looking down and seeing
this copse of burnt trees but there were still muzzle flashes
coming out of them, so there was still live enemy down there.

I was doing my best to blend into this helo so they
wouldn't know there was someone sat on the side of it. But
basically I'm sat there looking at the gunfire below and thinking:
Fuck, I'm completely vulnerable here. I wish he'd just
move forward to get this over and done with. And he did. As
the smoke cleared, it became obvious that the first helo had
overflown the perimeter wall – and had actually landed
inside the compound, which was not the plan.

But the two lads on either side of the wing hadn't seen the
wall, so they didn't know they were inside – not outside –
the compound. They'd been told to run forward to the wall,
but what they were actually doing was running forward to
the inner wall, and into the lions' den. They were being fired
at from point-blank range from little firing holes cut into this
inner wall. And, not surprisingly, they were utterly confused.
They kept going but in doing so they ventured further into
the fort. By now, there were two other Apaches supporting
us. One was overhead of the first helo, providing covering
fire for the two guys on the ground. The Apache was so close
that the empty cases from the 30mm cannon were falling
around our lads as they were running around the compound.
By now, the other Apache had joined in the fight and their
thumping cannons were deafening.

One of the pilots in the Apache that had landed realized the
mistake. He jumped out to go and get the two Marines who
were now in danger of coming face to face with hordes of
Taliban. They were utterly confused after being shot at – and,
with the Apache providing intimate fire support right above
their heads, the situation was pretty intense.

Fortunately we landed outside the wall, about seventy
metres short of Lance Corporal Ford. I leapt from that Apache
and sprinted as fast as I could across this horrible, rough land
up the hill. My body armour weighed about fifteen kilos, and
I also had my weapon and ammunition, so I was pretty
weighed down. By the time I got to Lance Corporal Ford I
was already out of breath.

He was slumped over. His body position was limp and it
was pretty obvious he was dead. But I rolled him over – and
the first thing that struck me was how heavy he was. Just
rolling him over was a real effort and he was a pasty grey
colour. He had been shot pretty much in the middle of the
head; it was just a small entry wound.

Lifting a dead body from the ground is not easy, especially
as he was wearing all his kit: he must have been a fourteen-stone
bloke. He had a radio as well and he was just incredibly
heavy. I could not get him off the ground, not properly, not
enough to get him onto my shoulder. Panic set in. I thought:
Fuck! There's a lot of gunfire going on and I can't move this
bloke. I started to do what I should have done immediately
and dragged him by his webbing.

But it was a very slow process. I was running backwards
dragging him. My weapon was getting in the way. Initially I
had him under the armpits, but there was a lot of blood and
gore so he kept slipping. And I was alone. I didn't know what
had happened to Chris, but I thought that maybe he was disoriented
and had run in the wrong direction. I had dragged
Lance Corporal Ford's body about twenty yards, when
suddenly Chris caught up with me. By now I was absolutely
exhausted – and making very slow progress. Together we
made better progress, but only marginally.

I think it was because we'd come from a safe environment
and we were thrust into a very intense combat zone, then
presented with a dead body, and I wasn't psychologically
prepared for it. It was bothering me that my weapon kept
hitting Lance Corporal Ford's head. We were a bit too gentle
and considerate, which was putting everyone at risk. I could
hear my heart beating against my breast-plate and feel the
adrenalin pumping through my veins, but despite the
obvious urgency we were making painfully slow progress.

As we were struggling to get Lance Corporal Ford back,
one of the pilots from the Apache saw what was happening.
He jumped out and came running forward. He was more
tuned in and he said: 'Right, fellows, don't fucking worry.
Forget about the gunfire, it's all ours. Let's just get him back.'
And it was then that we suddenly switched on, grabbed hold
of him and just dragged him back. We all got him to the helo.

By which point the other two from the helo had done their
full lap of the Taliban garden. In fact, it was three of them
because one of their pilots was with them, and they took up
positions around us. But we were pretty much done now: we
just tied the strops around Lance Corporal Ford's torso and
attached him to the undercarriage of our helo.

I thought I was tired, but the three from the other helo
looked absolutely exhausted. They were buggered. But,
having survived their unplanned tour, they now had to run to
the helo on the other side of the perimeter wall. Which they
somehow managed to do unscathed.

Our pilot jumped in, we jumped on the rails again, took off
and disappeared. The relief was immense. But it was very sad
because, as we flew over the river, all of Zulu Company were
lined up on the west bank, waiting and hoping. But they
could see our helo flying over with Lance Corporal Ford's
body hanging limp from beneath it, obviously dead. It was a
pretty solemn moment for everyone. Seconds later, we
landed and put Lance Corporal Ford on the ground. Later,
the Chinooks arrived and flew his body back to [Camp]
Bastion.

Captain Nick Barton, DFC, Army Air Corps

At this time, I was on a rota: I would spend three days on
deliberate tasks, three days on high readiness, three days air
testing, three days doing spare work. On this day, I was on
deliberate tasks. We were well read into Op Glacier. We had
all the sat imagery and spot maps for the Jugroom Fort area.
I remember thinking: What are they [the Vikings and men]
going to achieve by crossing [the river] and then withdrawing?
But my job was just to provide the best support we
could. It was a 1.30 a.m. lift and on station for 2 a.m. It was a
twenty-five-minute flight down there from Camp Bastion to
just south of Garmsir.

It's much harder flying at night, no question. It's much
harder to pick up people moving around. It takes you longer
to get oriented. You see through thermal imaging but the
night-vision system in the Apache is not particularly easy. We
make sure we separate each aircraft by 500 feet so we can
concentrate.

We were up in the air and initially we were just providing
the ISTAR [intelligence, surveillance, targeting, acquisition
and reconnaissance]. We had offensive Rules of Engagement
and it had all been cleared. But then we could see [Taliban]
sentries – guys with weapons – out around the fort and we
divided them up between the two of us. I was mission
commander for the pair [of Apaches]. We were cleared to
destroy the sentries under direction and we were talked on
to targets. We opened fire with 30mm on to the sentries. I only
got one out of the two of mine: my gun was slightly off. Our
wing aircraft was bang on every time, whereas mine seemed
to be falling off fifteen metres to the left. Once you get that,
you just have to adjust. They [the sentries] could have heard
us but they wouldn't have known where we were. But when
we opened up, they started running so we needed to get first-round
hits or second-burst hits. Once a target starts running,
it becomes quite hard. But there was quite a lot of fire coming
up at us from across the bank. There was quite a lot of activity
[Taliban] going on.

Then, shortly after 3 a.m., it started to go quiet. The Ops
Room were talking to us throughout and then we went back
to refuel. They said they were looking to cross the river at
such and such a time – 5.30 a.m. I think. So we were back up
[in the air] by then. I remember thinking: This could be quite
interesting. I wasn't sure they had tried fully laden Vikings on
a major river crossing before.

As mission commander, I concentrated on providing cover
for the 'friendlies' as they crossed the river in their Vikings. I
watched the Vikings cross from about 2,000 or 2,500 feet. The
wing aircraft concentrated on enemy movement in and
around the fort. Bear in mind, it was well synchronized
before they crossed. There was a B1 dropping approximately
five 2,000-pounders [bombs] on all the key buildings there.
As soon as they crossed the river, the first of eight Vikings
was opened up upon from the three sides at three different
points. And I was watching that – there was tracer coming
from everywhere. It took a few moments for the lead JTAC to
assign us tasks amid the confusion, bearing in mind there
were six or seven controllers on the radios, all from various
parts. Each aircraft worked to a different JTAC and also
monitored the lead JTAC or battle-space manager, as well as
talking inter-aircraft and giving updates to our Ops Room.

Eventually, they cleared us to engage. We were probably
firing some eight minutes after the Vikings were shot at. We
fired 30mm only: it wasn't 'danger close' but it wasn't far off.
The 'friendlies' were only 150 metres away from where we
were firing, so you have to be pretty accurate. The guys [on
the ground] were happy with us: they were getting fired at so
they just needed [Apache support] fire. We fired lots. I didn't
fire any rockets on that wave, but I fired all my 30mm bar
forty [rounds]. I fired two out of four of my [Hellfire]
missiles. The other aircraft did the same. At some point in the
initial fire, they received four or five casualties, including,
unfortunately, Lance Corporal [Mathew] Ford. They [British
forces] recovered the casualties, got in their vehicles and went
back [across the river]. To start with, they confirmed all
'friendlies' were on the west side of the river. This came over
from the JTAC. Then they proceeded to give us targets of all
the locations they had received fire from, to put missiles in
and fire, which we did. Ten minutes later, with shock we
received 'Ugly, Ugly: cancel. Cancel. One man still missing.
One man still on the east side of the river.'

You can imagine, my heart was thumping because we had
been putting down all this fire. By this time, we were low on
fuel and we stepped up the other pair [of Apaches], the high-readiness
pair. And [Warrant Officer Class 1, now Captain]
Tom O'Malley was mission commander for that pair. I gave
him a hand-over, saying we believed Lance Corporal Ford
was somewhere in the area. We gave them all the grids. Then
they spent their full three hours of fuel providing ISTAR,
looking for Lance Corporal Ford. Then they found him. While
the Marines were working out their plan, Tom [and other
Apache pilots] came up with their [alternative] plan [to
rescue Ford using two helicopters]. We got back to Bastion,
landed, refuelled, rearmed and shut down. We got out and
we were just walking back when we got a call from the Ops
Room: 'Get back in, power up.' I had spoken to the OC. He
said: 'You may be needed to provide fire support and go back
in for one more wave.'