Sniper in Helmand: Six Months on the Frontline

by James Cartwright

  I positioned myself on a rooftop with quite a high wall that ran from my left to right, while Sergeant Caneper and a group of four guys were the other side of the wall on another rooftop overlooking a large courtyard area. We were giving each other mutual support and covering fire as we went through the area. At that point we spotted a group of civilians, coming down the hillside to our left, who stopped and sat down when they saw us. I observed them through my scope but could not see any weapons. OP Sparrow-Hawk had also spotted them and was keeping an eye on them as they seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

  There were sixteen of us trying to create this buffer zone as the lads from B Company were fighting nearby. We could not see them, but could hear the contact as it continued. OP Sparrow-Hawk then informed us that a group of Taliban was moving almost directly towards us, not knowing we were there. After a few minutes we could hear the distinctive sound of men shouting in Pashto approaching us. We were near a road with alleyways and buildings leading off in all directions, and trees randomly dotted around the area. The adrenaline was pumping through me and it was quite scary knowing that these guys were literally on the other side of this area and could pop out at anytime. Suddenly I saw some of them running down an alleyway. One of them, wearing a white robe with a black waistcoat and armed with an AK-47, took what he thought was cover and spun round firing back in to the Green Zone. I lined him up in my sights and, at a range of 300 or 400 metres away, fired one shot and killed him.

  Alerted to our presence by my shot, the other fighters brought heavy fire to bear on us. We returned it, with Robbie McCall next to me suddenly standing up and launching an AT-4 which is an 84mm anti-tank rocket launched from an expendable launcher that is discarded after use. It makes a massive noise when launched and so, with ringing ears, I spun around and called him a prick for not warning me. He merely grinned as he threw down the empty launcher tube and carried on firing with his SA80. The firing from the Taliban died down considerably after the rocket hit a nearby building where some of them were located. I reckon it killed about four or five of them at least. Shortly afterwards, we climbed off the rooftops as by then B Company had pushed as far as it could go, having reached its limit of exploitation (LOE), the point beyond which they were not permitted to advance. We moved back, keeping level with B Company until we reached the pick-up point where we were ferried back to base in the vehicles.

  On another patrol to the south, I was commanding one of the WMIKS and had Faz as my driver and Reedy on the .50 heavy machine gun up on the top mount. There were only about three places where we could position the vehicles from which to give proper support. Even though we varied our routines, the Taliban still had a 33% chance of getting it right and being there to meet us. We normally had around ten minutes of firing before we would begin to receive returning fire and RPGs launched at us. I normally spent most of my time running around and clambering on to roofs, so driving in a WMIK was much easier. WMIKS are not fitted with any armour other than ballistic matting. We were out in the open, providing an unprotected target for the Taliban.

  B Company was going in down below us. I had a GPMG mounted in front of me and together with another WMIK began to provide supporting fire. We were deployed on a ridgeline and were beginning to come under heavy fire, with RPGs literally whizzing just over our heads, one impacting on a building right next to us and showering us with debris and shrapnel. In spite of this we continued to provide support, while also launching a few Javelin missiles. This continued for about three hours until B Company reached its LOE, at which point we began withdrawing.

  Back on my normal patrols and with sniper rifle in hand, I joined Sergeant Caneper once more for our last patrol in the south. B Company went in with 5 Platoon taking the supporting positions to the left, protecting the flank and moving forward in parallel. This time it was similar to patrols in Masdurak in the sense that we had information that there were no large pockets of Taliban waiting for us. We patrolled through the various buildings and alleyways, without using grenades but still sweeping through on a green code. I was behind one of the guys as we walked near a building opposite Kajaki Sofla and watched as another nearby suddenly froze and held up his hand. I asked him what was wrong and he said, ‘Pressure plate. I think I can see a pressure plate.’ A pressure plate is a homemade device which typically uses a piece of wood about the size of a cricket bat, with something similar to a saw blade on top along with two nails underneath, poking out of the wood towards the saw blade. There is an electric current connected to the nails, so when you stand on the saw blade, it flexes and touches the two nails, completing the circuit and detonating a mine or improvised explosive device (IED) buried nearby.

  We reported the find so that the EOD team could come down and take a look but, at the time, the Taliban were kicking off big style with B Company in the Green Zone. We had to work fast because we realised that we weren’t going to get the EOD team and we needed to try to identify the type of device. The guy in front of me got down on his hands and knees and began to sweep the ground on the other side of the pressure plate, eventually locating the command wire that led to an anti-tank mine buried only around a centimetre from the surface. You can imagine the damage this would have done, bearing in mind that it was designed to blow up a tank. I recorded the grid reference on my hand-held GPS device and decided to pull out of there, but just as we began to move down an alleyway we came under heavy fire from the front and right. We began to fire back but saw that B Company was beginning to pull back, so we did the same as we did not want to be left swinging in the breeze.

  The Taliban had obviously anticipated the direction from which we would approach, hence the mine. B Company was now coming up against some very stiff resistance. At the same time, we heard the crack of supporting fire from the OP over our heads. We jumped over walls, ran through buildings and bolted through alleyways, laying fire down as we went and covering each other all the time as we moved. We reached a high wall, probably as high as seven or eight feet, and could hear the Taliban shouting to each other as they closed in on us. When they were really close, three of our guys threw grenades over the wall simultaneously. There were three explosions followed by screams of pain so we knew we hit some of them, but were not keen on hanging around to find out how many so made ourselves scarce as quickly as possible. We were still under heavy fire from what appeared to be everywhere, including windows and doorways, as we went. It was a pretty hairy moment but somehow we managed to escape without anyone being killed or seriously injured, so all in all it was a successful, if scary, patrol.

  We had seen some real action in both the north and south of the area, but now headed to the far north, a number of miles further than we had operated previously. On deploying, we moved up a wadi and saw a compound of four buildings, with one in each corner. To the left there was a high hill and in the distance we could see around five or six more compounds strung out one after the other in a straight line going away from us. To the right there was another high feature and beyond the buildings was another bit of the Green Zone.

  We moved up to the north-east of these compounds and once again I was with Sergeant Caneper and 5 Platoon. We were to provide fire support for 6 Platoon which was going to carry out a pincer movement to the right. With the WMIKS in support, the platoon pushed right around us over the open ground and then across the bottom of the high feature to the right-hand side, eventually breaking into the compounds leading away from us. Just to the left of these was another large one surrounded by trees where I spotted some men digging as our guys crossed the open ground. I could see no weapons but reported it to Sergeant Caneper who also had a look. I told him that I was keeping a close eye on them and he responded by saying that if I spotted anything or any weapons, I should engage them first and then tell him.

  I zapped the building with my rangefinders and set my scope to the distance of the compound, which was around 600 metres away. As soon as our guys began to fire and break into the compounds, t
he Afghans dropped their tools and ran into the house. This once again was not necessarily suspicious as they looked like farmers who simply wanted to get the hell out of the way of any trouble, but I kept my eyes on the house while 6 Platoon finished clearing the compounds before withdrawing over the open ground under cover of the WMIKS.

  All of a sudden I saw tell-tale puffs of smoke as the Afghans in the building I was watching began firing at 6 Platoon, so I scanned the windows and doors waiting for them to show themselves. I eventually saw one of them, wearing a black turban and dark robes, firing through a window. I lined up the shot, held my breath and fired, watching as he threw his arms up in the air and fell backwards. 6 Platoon took cover from the open ground and it was now our turn to begin extraction. Sergeant Caneper and I would obviously be the last people to come off the roof as he was in charge and I was the sniper who could see furthest. He jumped down and, as I began to follow, I heard the crack of a sniper round and threw myself flat. The enemy sniper had obviously been watching us but fortunately had missed. I crawled to the edge of the roof and handed down my L96 rifle. I had to manoeuvre over this ledge but clearly was not keen on showing my head again, so began sliding down the ladder head first. About halfway down, my hands slipped and I fell, landing like a bag of spuds on the ground. It did hurt a bit and I looked ridiculous, but pissed myself laughing as did Sergeant Caneper who gave me a hand-up before I checked the gash on my hand and other bumps and bruises. The only thing we could do now with a sniper operating in the area was literally to run the four miles back to base, which is exhausting in such heat but the thought of a bullet between the eyes kept us going.

  On 25 July, Teddy had heard some news which was really devastating. He had been in the Ops room, waiting to use the satellite phone to call home, and had been told that Operation MINIMISE, the procedure put into force when someone had been killed in action, had been activated. The reason for the name MINIMISE was because all communication with the world outside had to cease. You are not allowed to telephone, send a text, email or communicate in any way with the outside world. This is to ensure that the family of the dead soldier hear the news first from the Ministry of Defence and not from the media.

  We obviously wanted to find out what had happened, but it was all very sketchy. That evening, we could only listen to the radio in the Ops room for any further news. We eventually learned that there had been an IED incident involving one of our convoys within the FOB Inkerman area, near Putay and Jucelay.

  The worrying aspect was that there were two confirmed T1 casualties, but that was all we knew. Teddy took copies of the ZAP numbers, which were designed to identify anyone quickly over the radio as we were not permitted to mention anyone’s names for obvious security reasons. As I have mentioned before, a ZAP number consisted of your first and last name initials, followed by the last four numbers of your regimental number. Older soldiers still referred to it as your NI PIN (Northern Ireland Personal Identification Number). Teddy took down these numbers and we immediately had a sense of dread as we saw the letters AH and four numbers. We feared that something had happened to Alex as he was one of our snipers within the area, and his surname was Hawkins.

  I had a list of all the ZAP numbers because of all of the kit issued to individuals back in the UK. We were frantic to discover if this was our comrade and friend – in particular, the person I had spent so long bunked with in the same room and who was almost like a brother to me. We were trying not to fear the worst, hoping that he had just broken something and required morphine. This would explain why he had been a T1, because requirement for morphine automatically classifies you as a T1 casualty as it just knocks you out and you need to be carried. We prayed to everything we held dear that this was the case.

  I went rooting through my kit and finally found the list. Our worst fears were realised – it was of course Alex, and so we now knew he was a T1 casualty. It was so frustrating as we spent the whole day, with time dragging out as far as you could imagine, just waiting for news and there was nothing we could do. I slept inside the building that night as we had no patrols to do and eventually fell asleep.

  On the following morning, I awoke with Teddy leaning over me and gently shaking me by my shoulder. I will always remember his long, pale face staring down at me, spelling bad news. I sat up and the feeling of dread deepened as he then handed me a cigarette and lighter. As I lit the cigarette, he just said it, ‘Alex has died, mate.’

  I honestly did not know what to say, so just there looking up at Teddy’s face and feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of me, I was totally lost for words. I will never know how long I remained silent, looking up at Teddy and into space, but it felt around 15 minutes as the enormity of what had happened slowly sank in and the reality that my true friend had died took hold. It is a strange feeling when this happens and it is very difficult to describe. It is not the same as an elderly relative that you love passing away, because Alex was a person who was not only young and in his prime, but also someone with whom I had formed a different kind of bond. You just do not form bonds like that in normal life because you have not gone through the trials and tests of conflict that bring such closeness. I felt devastated, as though my own brother had died.

  It turned out that what had happened was that Alex was on a vehicle patrol on which he was in command of a Vector, the brand new version of the Pinzgauer with better armour. IEDs were actually fairly rare at the time, even though they are now commonplace because the Taliban have changed tactics after finding themselves unable to beat the British Army in toe–to–toe combat. The Taliban had worked out how to attack the new, heavier armoured vehicles by placing the IEDs at an angle in the ground instead of laying them straight up against the vehicle.

  If you put too much armour on a vehicle and then try and take a corner at 30 or 40 mph, there is a real danger that you will just roll it so you have to slow down. In this case, as the convoy rounded a corner and slowed down, the vehicle in front then sped up considerably and increased the gap between it and Alex’s vehicle behind. Alex naturally attempted to catch up but, in doing so, created another problem. It is hard enough to spot an IED at normal pace, and almost impossible to do so at high speed. Alex’s vehicle hit one with devastating results.

  One of the first on the scene was Kingy, also a member of the Sniper Platoon. One of the other guys from the vehicle, Pat, who was part of FSG, was conscious and shouting and screaming in pain. The first guys to arrive on the scene obviously left him initially as he was responsive, concentrating their efforts on the unresponsive one who was Alex. Their reasons for doing so are pretty clear as if you cannot shout for help, you are likely in a bad way and in need of help urgently. Three or four of the guys tried to tend to his wounds and save his life, while a helicopter was scrambled from Camp Bastion.

  The medical team at Bastion tried everything they could but tragically failed to save Alex’s life. He was T1 from the outset, but you always cling on to hope in these circumstances. It left us all knocked for six because we had been on so many patrols together and seen so many successes. Of course I guess it could have been any of us as we had all come close many times, but it never ever reduces the impact. I had known Alex from my first sniper course and remember chatting to him about me joining the snipers when we were in Basra, Iraq. He had even saved a bed space in D Company’s lines for me when I finally joined the snipers, and we remained room-mates for just over two years. We used to go down to the local chippy and he would put the chips alongside a fresh steak he had bought from the local Sainsbury’s and grilled on his George Foreman grill. We used to discuss the normal stuff like cars, girlfriends and the like, and watch certain TV shows religiously. I guess we just became really good friends. Hopefully you can see why I was so heart-broken by the passing of Alex. We were not simply passing mates.

  To sort myself out, I decided to be positive and recall my fondest memories of Alex. This was when we were about to travel to Canada on exercise and were p
arking our cars in the D Company car park before our departure. There was a slope with a row of trees on one side and Alex parked in front of it. I noticed he had left his hand brake on, so I advised him not to as we were going for six weeks and the handbrake might well have seized up by the time we returned. I told him to leave it in first gear and it would be fine when we returned. He watched me do mine and then did the same himself, feeling quite chuffed. We then walked towards the block and halfway up the stairs he stopped and said, ‘Shit, I’ve got to go and get something.’ I just said, ‘No problem’ and continued up the stairs.

  A few minutes later, while I was sorting out my bed space, Alex walked in with a look of horror on his face. He could not even tell me, instead beckoning me to come outside and look. His car was on the slope, a total mangled wreck with the bonnet caved in. It turned out that he had half-sat in the driver’s seat to grab the disk he wanted out of the CD player, but needed to start the car up so it would eject. He had of course forgotten that the car was in first gear. It had jolted forward, travelling down the slope and into a tree with such force that it caved in the bonnet. We laughed so much it actually hurt. Probably because of his face but, typical of squaddie mentality, we all laughed and ripped the piss out of him mercilessly, falling about laughing. He just about wet himself laughing too but, as we were flying to Canada in around two hours, there was nothing he could do at all.