We did not see or hear anything else, so could not justify an air strike based on just this one guy, but it was all a bit strange. We had now been up since 3.00 am and it was now around 10.00 am, so we were all starving and somewhat tired. As I was thinking this, Major Borgnis walked over, sat down next to me and said, ‘I don’t know. What do you think, Lance Corporal Cartwright?’
I was a bit taken aback that the new OC knew my name so well. Anyway I told him that I thought it was definitely slightly strange. He looked at me and said, ‘Can we go home then?’ I thought, ‘What!’ I looked back as all his tactical staff and minions glared down at me. He asked, ‘Are you hungry?’ I paused before replying, ‘Er... yes.’ He then said, ‘Do you want some breakfast, Lance Corporal Cartwright?’ I must have looked confused and asked if this was a trick question, to which he replied, ‘No, no, just answer honestly.’ So I said, “To be honest with you, yes. I’m absolutely starving, sir.’
With that, he called up on the radio and said, ‘All call signs, we are ready to move back now, let’s call it a day.’ He then went to his PRR and added, ‘Just for the record, it was Lance Corporal Cartwright’s decision and he gave us permission to move out, so thank him because he’s hungry.’ He stood up and gave me a little wink and laughed, as did all his minions. I thought, ‘This guy is actually bloody good,’ and laughed as well. It made a nice refreshing change as we began the long hard slog back to FOB Zeebrugge and some lovely ravioli and spam.
CHAPTER 17
Blue on Blue
A few days later, Major Borgnis came over to Teddy and me, and asked us if we thought we could locate and kill the enemy sniper who had been operating in the area. We told him that we knew he was using a .50 calibre sniper rifle but that was all we had on him, and decided to suss out a possible plan. In ideal circumstances we would pretty much use the whole of the Sniper Platoon, which numbered around seventeen snipers, and set up an OP screen to sit and wait for him. It is really like a game of chess, and it takes a lot of snipers and a lot of time to catch just the one guy. We told Major Borgnis that for the two of us to find this one sniper in this massive area around Kajaki was almost impossible, unless we were incredibly lucky. It would take a long time and we would have to draw him out into an area where we actually wanted him, rather than trying to just catch him out.
The only way we could do this was to have the use of a couple of platoons to go forward and engage the enemy. Simply advance to contact and, when the enemy starts to fire back, just hold their ground there. Whilst this would be happening, Teddy and I would take two different angles and look into the main contact area. We already knew that he was operating from the flanks, so if he were going to engage us from a built-up area it was going to make our job more difficult as there were simply more places to hide there. Taking all into consideration, we felt that this would be the best option. Major Borgnis said, ‘Well okay, if we can get this sniper it’s worth a shot.’
It was not just a case of removing this sniper for our tour, but also for future operations and tours that came after us. The OC was happy for our help and went away to form his plan. Teddy and I sat around the table thinking about dealing with the sniper. We were like kids imagining if we got him, because if we found him, killed him and recovered his rifle, then in our sniper world this would be like winning the World Cup. We agreed that we would dedicate our feat to the Corporals’ Mess and have a plaque mounted on the mess bar saying where the sniper was killed and his rifle was retrieved by sniper from OP HERRICK 6. We went on like that for some time and it was nice to lose ourselves in fantasy for a while. The reality, of course, would be very different as the sniper was not about to hand over his life and rifle that easily and that we would have to go and take him on, kill him and secure his weapon.
The next day, Major Borgnis had taken our advice and gone with it, which made us feel really good and we relished the opportunity. He told us that he was not going to spend a huge amount of time and effort to dealing with the sniper, but would give it a go with this one attempt.
So late one afternoon, we set off. It was not too hot as the temperature was cooling. 6 and 7 Platoons moved up to Masdurak and took up their positions. Teddy was with the WMIKs and I was with 6 Platoon as it advanced. Teddy, equipped with his .338 rifle, was quite close to the FSG while I, with my L96, accompanied the main body of the patrol. We pushed through and looked over Masdurak and the big wadi, going firm in the positions we took up. I asked one of the guys to keep looking into the windows of buildings and scanning the entire area as best he could from the mound of rubble on which he was lying. As he was doing so, there was a shot and a bullet cracked past his head. He scrambled down with a wide-eyed stare as I sat there savouring the sound of the unmistakable crack and thump of a sniper rifle. Our man was here!
We swiftly deployed in amongst the rubble that is Masdurak and found an area with a few mouseholes, the scene looking like the bombed streets of London during the Second World War. After that one shot it sounded like it too as all hell broke loose, with RPGs being launched from the enemy’s side with our guys returning fire across the wadi exactly as planned. The sniper had already identified himself as being here and it was now down to Teddy and me to find him in amongst the mayhem. It dawned on me that we would never be able to lay our hands on his rifle in this situation, but we could at least try and achieve a confirmed enemy sniper kill.
I was alternating through three positions because if you remain in one for too long you are just asking for it. I could only identify muzzle flashes in windows, so it was really difficult to identify the actual sniper. What’s more, I could not out look properly as there were bullets ricocheting off of the rubble and whizzing past my head, while dust and rubble were being thrown up all over the place, making if difficult to sit there calmly engaging targets. There were RPGs coming in so we frequently had to take cover and wait until they exploded, being showered with rocks and dust before we could crack on again. After about twenty or thirty minutes of this, we had not located our target and it was impossible for us to know if he was even still out there. The volume of noise from the continuing barrage of gunfire and explosions was such that it was difficult to pinpoint specific noises, while the visibility grew worse from the smoke and dust.
The message eventually came down the line that the JTAC was going to have a few bombs dropped in order that we could withdraw, so we hoped we might knock out the sniper by dropping a bloody great bomb on him. The guy next to me had been hammering away with his Minimi, so his hearing at this point was absolutely shot. So there I was, shouting at him with large mouth movements and doing sign language to warn him. I was mouthing the words, ‘AMEEEEERICAAAAN, F15 DROPPING BOMMMMMB FIIIIIVE MINUTES!!!’ No matter how hard I shouted he was still saying, ‘Hey! What?’ so in the end I extracted my notebook and pen and wrote it down for him, ‘Bomb, five minutes’, at which he stuck his thumb up and carried on firing. Good lad. Within what seemed about ten seconds, I received the call that the bomb was going in and we had about two minutes, so I held up two fingers and he nodded again.
I heard a very loud noise and, looking round, could just about make out the jet coming in. I could hear the roar of his engines getting louder and louder as he came from behind us. He dropped his bomb as we all took cover and the ground literally shook as the bomb went off. Everyone did the normal ‘Woo hooo!’ as it exploded but this bomb was very, very close to us and even though we had a lot of experience of close air support, this one just seemed too near. I looked up to see a big cloud of smoke on our side of the wadi and told the guy with the Minimi to wait there as the platoon sergeant was just through an archway. Seconds later, he confirmed my worst fears that it was a ‘blue-on-blue’ – casualties caused by friendly fire.
Firing ceased on both sides as I think the Taliban, as well as ourselves, could not believe what had happened. We had seen the enemy score an own goal and blow themselves up through a dodgy mortar on a number of occasions, but for us to have a
bomb dropped on us by a supporting aircraft was a tragedy for us and a godsend for them.
I was with 6 Platoon and Sergeant Browning was telling us that 7 Platoon was down there, separated from us by only a few buildings. The bomb had landed no more than a 100 metres away from us. Then we began to hear the radio transmissions come through. ‘We have one T4, a couple of T1s and a couple of T2s.’ At this point, Major Borgnis wanted to begin the extraction plan as the Taliban had recovered and were beginning to cross the wadi towards us as they realised that we would clearly be in a certain degree of shock and wanted to take advantage of the situation. Some of our guys were putting down fire while others were busy guiding the members of 7 Platoon bringing their wounded out of the maze of alleyways to the Pinzgauers. In the meantime, a Chinook was already on its way to pick them up and take them to Camp Bastion for medical treatment. We also had to get the dead out, as it had already been confirmed that we had one dead in our ranks. I scribbled a note to my deaf friend next to me saying, ‘Blueon-blue, we are pulling out.’ He looked confused, wanting to know what had happened.
The platoon sergeant was busy organising men to stand at certain alleyways and cover us while also giving directions to the teams bringing out the dead and wounded. They had to improvise by using ponchos for stretchers as we had a growing list of casualties with another T1 joining the group. On one such makeshift stretcher was my friend and comrade, Josh Lee. His clothes were burned and ripped, his face covered in dust. As I watched the guys carrying him out, I could see he was not moving much but there was nothing I could do apart from give encouragement to the guys carrying him to keep going and push on quickly. The next to come out was someone I had fought alongside so many times, Corporal Stuart ‘Parky’ Parker. His clothes were in a similar state but at least he was moving, which was a good sign. He had his eyes clamped shut and was moving his head from side to side, but the worrying thing was that his chest was dark blue and red. Once again, there was nothing any of us could do apart from give words of encouragement to the guys carrying him.
I turned and came across a good mate of mine, Luke Geater, and he just looked at me and told me that Troy was dead. I stood for a few seconds and then turned and kicked the wall next to me, which was stupid as I nearly broke my foot but I just didn’t care. Luke put his arm around me and we just stood there for a few more seconds as I tried to deal with it all mentally. I broke away and asked who else was dead and I heard the words from him and then another guy who confirmed that Privates Thrumble and McClure were both dead. I was just totally gutted. Major Borgnis came through with the JTAC and of course the boys’ eyes became daggers as the man who had ordered the air strike walked through. In fairness, it was the right thing to call in air support and the JTAC was not in the pilot’s seat. As he walked through, he said with genuine sincerity that he was sorry, so sorry as he walked through us. I felt for him as he went through apologising. It was not his fault and I for one knew that. All of them felt as bad as us, as they obviously would never have deliberately perpetrated anything like that on their own guys. It was just one of those things. When someone in civilian life makes a mistake it is usually just a pain in the arse but everyone gets over it. When we make a mistake, it costs lives and affects everyone. I shook my head in disbelief, thinking of the men now dead as the JTAC walked past and we began to move back.
The sun was setting now and it was beginning to get really dark. We were out of Masdurak and our mortar line was beginning to bring down fire on the Taliban as we withdrew under cover of smoke from the mortars and arrived at a different wadi. The dead and wounded had been driven away. Everyone was so down about what had happened. We did what we would call a ‘hard extraction’ and ran all the way back to FOB Zeebrugge which, although totally exhausting, helped take our minds off what had happened. Just before we arrived at the base, we organised all round defence at the village of Tangey to receive the Chinook helicopter which arrived to pick up the wounded and dead to take them back to Camp Bastion.
When I got back in, I saw Teddy and watched as he just sat with his head in his hands. I put my hand on his shoulder and said that it was f...ing shit and he said, ‘Yeah, really f...ing shit.’ He lit a cigarette and I did too. Behind us was the kit of the guys who had died, their day sacks ripped and torn, and John Thrumble’s GPMG bent and mangled. As we looked at this, the call came around asking if anyone had seen Private Foster. None of us had seen him and the problem was that Stu Parker had been his section commander and Josh Lee the second-in-command. It swiftly became clear that no head count had been completed for this section. We very soon realised that Fozzy was missing in action, so a search party was organised immediately, with some of A Company being flown in from Sangin to help us.
It was now totally dark with lots of Taliban in the area by now. Nevertheless, the guys still went back to the scene of the blue-on-blue and, after digging in the rubble, found Fozzy. He was dead. He had been firing from the compound through a loophole and had taken almost the full force of the blast. If it was any consolation to us, he would have died instantly and not have suffered, but it was still soul destroying for yet another of us to fall. There were three great guys killed in action through this blue-on-blue, friendly fire or whatever you want to call it. The thing that was so upsetting was that the four guys we lost in B Company all died through tragic accidents rather than being shot by the enemy. Sometimes that is what makes war that little bit harder to take. We were warned during training that not all of us would come home, and were told, ‘Just do your best to make sure it is not you or the people to your right and left.’ It is a difficult thing to deal with when any comrades die, but especially your good friends. The mentality that was drilled into us, came naturally anyway, was work hard for each other and fight for each other. The standard things we heard were Queen, Country and Patriotism but these meant nothing to us. We did not even care why we were there as all that mattered was being there for each other while we were fighting. We were all there together and for each other and doing our job.
Teddy was a trained medic and had helped by working on Stu Parker and Josh Lee, ensuring they were kept alive during the Golden Hour before the helicopter arrived. It is testament to these two guys that, during the care being given to them, they continually kept asking about their soldiers and how they were. Teddy had to lie to them as they asked about Troy and Thrumble. He did not want to cause them any more shock or stress as they were clearly very badly wounded, keeping them as calm as possible while they were given first aid. He helped load them on to the Chinook and, as he did so, saw a hand wearing a distinctive glove protruding from under a covering sheet. It was Troy. Teddy had lent him those gloves when Troy said he liked them. Teddy had a spare pair so Troy could have kept them, and now he would.
This all happened on 23 August 2007 and I will never forget it.
There was an Op MINIMIZE put in place, barring anyone from speaking to the outside world, but I managed to speak to Annie a few days later on her birthday. I had ordered an Arsenal shirt with ‘Daddy’s Girl’ and a number one on the back, and she had received this in time for her birthday, which was great stuff. When I talked to her, she told me that she and my Mum had all obviously heard about the blue-onblue, through the national news, so they asked me if I knew any of them. I remember saying that I knew all of them and they were my friends. They were brilliant soldiers and great men. It pisses me off when I hear news reports about horrible men doing terrible things who are sent to go to prison for only a few years, whereas these guys were nice men who had put their lives on the line and would not be coming back.
A day or so later the CO and RSM came out and saw us. Ross Kemp also arrived. Having spent time with these guys, he had insisted on coming back which was good of him. They were not simply names on a newsreel to him or any of us. It was really nice for the guys from the head shed to come down and spend time with us after this, and it was much appreciated by the men.
We also had some journalists f
rom New York come out on patrol with us and they were a lot less trouble than our lovely Brits, being slightly less suicidal than our lot and actually listening to what we told them. Eventually the call came through that 7 Platoon were going to move to Sangin with some of the FSG guys so they could man the FSG tower in Sangin DC, whilst A Company was going to deploy on Operation PALK GHAR, which was to last from 30 August to 2 September.
Snowy asked for some volunteers to go and help man the tower at Sangin and I stuck my hand up. Privates Tanner ‘TT’ Tremain and ‘Ghost Face’ Read also volunteered. Two days before we were due to fly out, Ghost Face and TT were up the top of the hill in OP Sparrow Hawk and I, along with Private Bernie Turner and a few other guys, was tasked with taking a few Javelin missiles and some GPMG ammunition up there. The ground either side of the track was mined, so you could not under any circumstances stray off the track. The trouble was that it was as narrow as a cricket bat in some places, so all of us were treading carefully. We all had to wear our body armour, but could take off our helmets. Bernie Turner and I were ahead of the others marching up the hill. He slipped and, as he put his hand out to break the fall, his helmet slipped from it and bounced down the hill. We were pissing ourselves with laughter as we put our fingers in our ears and watched the helmet bouncing down the hill while waiting for an explosion if it hit a mine. The trouble was, he had to go home in four days on his R & R and needed a helmet to travel. He was gutted, as he was convinced he would not be permitted to travel home without it, but I said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure one of the guys will be able to get you a helmet from somewhere.’ That happened of course and Bernie went on his R & R while his helmet remained in the middle of the minefield.
Sniper in Helmand: Six Months on the Frontline Page 18