The Jungle of Corn

7th September 2011

From the moment we got into the RAF Chinook helicopter we started to record the expressions of those around us, some pensive and others laughing and joking .  It all went serious though as the aircrew shouted ‘3 minutes’.  3 minutes until we landed in a cornfield behind enemy territory, 3 minutes until we left the safety of the aircraft, 3 minutes that felt like an eternity.

I glanced over at the other two members of our team Captain (Capt) Joe Gilhooly, the team leader and Sergeant (Sgt) Paul Randall, the cameraman.  We exchanged knowing looks that soon we would be into the unknown and that our job to record the days events had begun.

Often thrown into different situations the life of a Combat Camera Team (CCT) in Afghanistan is both diverse and challenging as we attempt to record the work of the military in Helmand.  On this particular day it was our task to document the first ever helicopter borne assault led by the Afghan Uniformed Police (AUP) with the support of men from A Company of the 1^st Battalion of the Rifles.  Given the name Op KAPCHA QU’AT 2  (OP COBRA POWER 2).  Our aim was to surprise the insurgents and clear the area with the hope of improving security for the local community residing around a patrol base located with the southern area of the Nad-e-ali district in Helmand.

After receiving an in depth brief from the 1 Rifles Company Commander, Major Carl ‘Chuckles’ Boswell, we made our way to the flight line at Camp Bastion and boarded two RAF Chinook helicopters.

At 0930 we set of and were dropped into an area known as the ‘Jungle of Corn’.  Once the deep thud of the helicopters had drifted beyond the river and back to Bastion we started to sort ourselves out into our patrols and head into the heavily irrigated cornfields.  The mud felt like walking through thick treacle and the tall corn sucked the oxygen out of the air.  The temperature was well above 30 degrees and the sweat was flowing.  My only thought at this point was to not fall over and plant the camera in the mud!  After a short distance we carried out our first clearance of a compound, which went fairly smoothly.  The odd thing was that there was a lack of local villagers in the area, which is always a telling sign.

As we walked through a cotton field another patrol along with the AUP had moved on ahead of us to clear the second compound. Moments after hearing the call ‘We have ground sign!’ there was a large bang.  An Afghan policeman had stood on what is known as a pressure plate explosive device.  The first call was that the dog known as ‘Q’ had gone (high assurance search dog) and we immediately assumed he had been killed in the blast.  For a few seconds we all stood rooted to the ground; then the shouting began.  Screams for the medic and the voice of the patrol commander sending his report over the radio filled the air.  Within twenty minutes the Medical Emergency Response Team (MERT) Chinook swooped into a field next to us.  The soldiers and policemen carried the casualty onto the aircraft.  We knew his chances of survival were low as I glanced over and saw the Company Commander trying to resuscitate him along with the patrol medic.  We found out later that day that he had died of his injuries in the military hospital at Bastion.

During the medical evacuation the chinook whipped up the field and sent grass and cotton flowers into the air.  We felt like we were in a Stanley Kubrick film, witnessing a surreal moment amongst the horror of what we had just witnessed.   As we waited for the rest of the patrol to clear the surrounding area for any other nasty surprises we wondered what had happened to the dog.  As we crossed a stream and joined the rest of the team we found the dog, to our relief, in one piece with his handler!  The initial call that the dog was gone was the handler letting us know that he had run off, frightened by the blast.   This lifted our spirits no end as we are always quite protective of our dogs as they’re vital to the security of the patrol.  We then pushed on with the rest of the patrol.  The heat was almost unbearable and at one point we got into a stream, known as a wadi to cool down.

As we entered the final part of the patrol we were being watched and the insurgents were waiting for us.  Hot and exhausted our adrenalin was the only thing that kicked us into action as the rounds started raining in towards us.  We were being ambushed and the Taliban knew we were tired.  At this point I had to make a very quick decision about whether to raise my camera or my weapon.  It was an instant call as I was next to the light machine gun and I knew that he could put down enough fire power for the both of us.   However, there was a stoppage and I had to quickly drop the camera and return fire to surpress the enemy and keep their heads down.  I thought I would be scared but the training kicked in and I just knew instinctively that I had to get up there and start firing.  I stopped being a photographer at this point. To my relief the machine gun back came back into play and I became a photographer once more.

Less than 5 metres away Joe and Paul were having their own experience of the fire fight. The team leader Joe commented on the events:

“I was about 15 yards to the right of Ali and a few yards to the left of Paul when the rounds and UGLs started heading our way. I remember shouting at Paul, “where is Ali? where is Ali?” and becoming aware that she was over to my left – I spotted her camera. At the time I didn’t know she was getting rounds down but thinking it’s ok she is next to the machine gunner. As for me my initial thoughts were shit – the guys are completely out in the open – we had patrolled across the open ground only a few minutes earlier and I had joked with Paul who was a few yards in front of me that if we came under contact it there it would be pretty much ruin my day.

The Taliban continued targeting us and I thought “I’m getting married next year I really don’t need this”. I looked over the wall and identified what I believed to be the firing point; took aim and started shooting.

Time seemed to compress and the noise whilst terrific seemed to disappear into the background; UGLs exploding, rounds cracking in to the wall I was crouched behind and then the mortars. The answering GPMG and the sound of my own weapon. Changing magazines and then the silence and the voice of the OC chattering away on his radio (he was about 15 feet away) at one point I was relaying messages from the 2IC to the OC – but cut the message down to “Chuckles, Chuckles – Ben needs you – speak to Ben!” Later I found out that Ben was trying to confirm a grid locations.

When we got in off the ground the feeling of relief was enormous. I made my weapon safe and took my body armour off and started pouring cold water down my neck. The guys in the PB met us with a bottles and bottles of water – it tasted like nectar from heaven.”

Paul added to his own view of the fire fight:

“I heard the heavy weight of fire and knew that the Taliban had waited to ambush the rear section as they were in open ground with no cover, the equivalent of standing in the middle of a football pitch with nowhere to hide.

This was my fourth deployment to Helmand Province and from past experiences of ambushes I feared the worst. The fire is what we call in the Army effective this means you’re in the killing range of the enemy’s weapons and bullets are landing at your feet and ( or ) you are taking casualties.

As Chuckles was working out a plan an Afghan family drove passed us in a hurry on a motorbike fleeing the area. This was a combat indicator a sure sign of further trouble ahead.

Then I heard to distinctive sound of incoming small arms fire from my right. I looked towards the direction of fire then I looked to my left and saw Joe.  At this point I knew I didn’t need to protect my colleagues or myself with my weapon.   I brought my camera up and started to film the fire fight. As an Army photographer it’s my duty to capture the events.

I heard the heavy weight of fire and I was very happy to be by an old wall. We were all weary but the adrenaline and the professionalism of the troops kept us going. I felt safe as I’d spent a lot of time with the Rifles and they are very professional soldiers.

After what seemed a lifetime an Apache attack helicopter came overhead a welcome sight for ground troops and a feared machine to the Taliban. We made our back towards the patrol base just as the sun was setting on a day we will never forget”.

The Afghan policemen were shoulder to shoulder ‘shana ba shana’ with the men from the Rifles.   The policemen had lost one of their friends and colleagues and they were as committed to ending this patrol with no more losses as we were.  The AUP Commander commented that:

"ISAF helped us, they are our brothers and we work well together. We did not catch the Taliban today but that does not matter because he knows we are after him and we must not give him space to breathe and be near the people.

My men did very well today despite our casualty and we will get better soon with more ISAF training so that we are ready when ISAF go home."

After forty minutes of pitting our wits against the insurgents they finally stopped as the Apache helicopter appeared like a shark in the sky.  The policemen sat by the side of the road with Maj Boswell and Serjeant Major Scott Maunders from A Company as they took stock of the firefight and made their plan to get us back on the safest route back to the patrol base.  As the policeman walked along the lane they shook the hands of the soldiers and seemed elated that it was all over.  One soldier, Rifleman Dan Meally  remarked: “I am so impressed with them (police), I really thought they would have given up after they lost their guy.”

As we trudged through the village of Rahim Kalay the locals waved to us and a small boy came out to join us on his pushbike.  He chatted to one of the soldiers who had learnt a small amount of Pashto and suddenly everything felt normal again.  The relief of getting into a safe place and getting a cold bottle of water was overwhelming.  The soldiers took of their kit and started to re count their day to their friends who had been left in the PB.  We carried on recording them as this was part of the journey for these soldiers.  The process of dealing with events and reflecting on them with humour is all part of the military way of coping with danger, and we knew that in the police check point just a few metres away the men were doing the same, only they were doing it over a pot of chai rather than a strong cup of NAAFI tea.

As we eventually put our cameras down and joined in the conversations with the men we realised what an important and valuable role we had in recording the events of the day.  As these soldiers return home and carry on with their careers the memories of Op Zangal Haf will forever remain in the archives of the Imperial War Museum and as we edge ever closer to transition the bravery and courage displayed by the Afghan policemen on this operation will be a telling sign for the future of Afghanistan.

Sgt Paul Anthony Randall, Sgt Alison Baskerville and Capt Joseph Gilhooly. Combat Camera Team, Task Force Helmand.