(One to One, BBC Radio 4, today)
…there was some whoosh going over our heads… RPG (rocket-propelled grenades) exploded at the back of our patrol base … the Taliban attackers were some 500 metres away …the mortars started coming in….we were just praying… I thought I was on my own in this, but then I asked my mates and they said: yes, we were praying too* ... every man along that wall curled into a foetal ball and waited for that final one to land slap bang in the middle of us, which it was going to… I survived…
… someone shouted ‘Medic!’ …I ran… a kind of armour piercing RPG - only this could have done what I saw … a small hole in the wall where the RPG had pierced through and pulverised the lower half of this Afghani soldier …his trousers appeared to be all that was keeping his lower body together …we grabbed this guy …half carrying half dragging him to safety … he kept looking at me, this distant stare …he was going, blood coming out of his ears, and all over his face… I remember him chiming these gentle snatches of songs…
“You were TA, Territorial Army, why did you go to Afghanistan
I come from a military family, I was brought up to revere achievement in the military world ... it was part of who I was …whether you a TA or a regular soldier, you want to do the job for real…
“Do you regret having done it?”
I can’t regret it, because it is who I was brought up to be… also, if I were to start regretting this, in addition to the survival guilt and the guilt of a killing that I have, I think that way even more madness** lies …even though in essence it sent me a bit mad, with the PTSD, it’s the culmination of who I always wanted to be.
*I couldn’t quite make out the exact words. (Look it up for yourself, it’s around 8.20’)
**me (I mean I've made it bold; but then - who knows?...)
Bottom photo; top one - couldn't establish
