by Richard Kemp
As the injured were loaded on board the helicopter, the roar of a Harrier almost deafened them. Two 500-pound air-burst bombs detonated just above ground on the Taliban position in the woodline. Apache attack helicopters dived down to strafe the surviving enemy. The Apache pilots reported twelve dead Taliban, killed by a combination of the air attack and B Company’s fire.
The company had begun Operation Ghartse Ghar with just two under-strength platoons. Having accumulated eight casualties over the last two days, their fighting ability was now limited. Aston put his men into a defensive perimeter in an irrigation ditch and contacted Carver by Tac Sat. The two officers agreed that B Company needed reinforcements, and an hour later the Helmand Reaction Force, a platoon from No. 3 Company of the Grenadier Guards, landed in a Chinook.
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For the next five days B Company continued to march through the Green Zone, covering a total of 70 kilometres on foot. This period of almost continuous patrolling and fighting was the hardest test B Company faced during the tour. They had sustained eight casualties in three days. But the Taliban were put on the back foot by Aston’s relentless thrusts into the area they had previously considered their own.
A Company also achieved a remarkable feat of endurance during Operation Ghartse Ghar. On the first day of the operation alone they conducted a gruelling 10-kilometre night insertion. For the company there followed a day of constant advance to contact, in which they had numerous short-range firefights with the Taliban, killing many enemy fighters. Even more were killed as A Company flushed out the enemy and brought in air strikes to hit them in the open. At the end of a hard day of fighting, Private Michael Charlesworth was shot in the wrist, and several ANA soldiers more seriously wounded in a lengthy firefight on the river line.
Later that night A Company snipers identified a large group of Taliban trying to exfiltrate across the river, 3 kilometres to the north. Out of range of direct fire systems, Major Biddick, the company commander, tasked Apaches to attack, killing twelve enemy as they were about to escape.
Carver’s plan for Operation Ghartse Ghar had succeeded. The battle group had cut off escape routes over the Helmand River and accounted for at least 100 enemy dead. The Taliban perception that the area was a safe haven had been shattered, at least for the time being, and word of their vanquishing quickly spread among the local population.
Immediately after Ghartse Ghar the battle group occupied Forward Operating Base Inkerman, a large compound beside the Green Zone, to enable continued domination of the area to the north-east of Sangin. Almost straight away, Inkerman became B Company’s bleak new home.
Map 8. Turning Point
Turning Point: 7–12 July 2007
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Before Operation Ghartse Ghar began, Major Dominic Biddick, A Company commander, planned an operation to enable the repair of the ruined Jusulay irrigation ditch. Having consulted with the locals to identify their priorities for reconstruction in the Sangin area, he had identified this as top of the list. Nine kilometres north-east of Sangin, the Jusulay ditch was the single most important irrigation channel between Sangin and Kajaki, servicing vast areas of crops. Its repair promised to bring renewed prosperity to several thousand people.
On the last day of Ghartse Ghar, 5 July, Biddick put his plan into action. He deployed A Company to provide protection against Taliban interference, organized local labour and plant and supplied Hesco Bastion walling to build a dam to divert water from the Helmand River into the ditch.
The Jusulay irrigation project took two weeks to complete. With Biddick’s security and organization, and a workforce from the local people, the project helped demonstrate to the community the readiness of the Royal Anglians to listen to and act on their needs and showed what could be achieved by cooperation between the locals and the British troops.
The increasing security brought by a permanent British presence after Operation Silver, reinforced by the major blows against the Taliban in Operation Lastay Kulang and Ghartse Ghar, was beginning to bring normal life back to Sangin. Or at least what passed for normal life in this poverty-stricken, desolate and much-fought-over town. Steadily people were returning to their houses, more and more shops were opening, and street life was getting busier. For the first time since the Taliban’s violent reaction to the arrival of the British forces in 2006, Sangin had a functioning market. Some said the market was more vibrant than they had known for years. And the market was the real key to Sangin’s present and its future.
In helping to bring about this change, A Company had built on the success of Operation Silver, the relief of Sangin, which had been conducted as the Royal Anglians arrived in Afghanistan at the start of their tour. Silver had been carried out by US forces, including elements of the 82nd Airborne Division, supported by troops from the Royal Marines and Afghan National Army.
People came here to trade from all along the upper Sangin valley, almost as far away as Kajaki, 40 kilometres to the north. For over a year, people in the town and surrounding villages had had nowhere to purchase basic commodities like bread. Even before that, they would have to buy at exorbitant rates from gangsters and drug dealers. Now they had the market. They could travel into the town to trade produce freely, without fear of extortion, intimidation or attack. It is difficult to overstate how important the market was to the people of Sangin.
For the Taliban, and for the leaders of the narcotics trade, this return of confidence and normal life was too much to bear. It signified encroachment into their territory by the reviled Karzai regime in Kabul, backed by the British occupiers, who were denying them freedom of action, influence and revenue. At every opportunity they struck back at the foreigners, as well as the hated Afghan National Army and police, who operated under the authority of Isatullah, the ally of Karzai who had been installed as Governor of Sangin two months earlier, in May.
Shortly before nine on the morning of Saturday 7 July, a twelve-year-old boy stood in the main street of Sangin, watching the activities of the market traders. Just over five feet tall and skeleton thin, he was dressed in a clean grey kurta with matching round cap. He had only recently travelled down from Kabul to stay with relatives in the town, and the market life of Sangin was strange and intriguing to him.
The boy was startled by the approach of two young men, one in a white and the other a green kurta, both wearing turbans and the familiar black beards.
‘Do you want to earn a hundred Afghanis, boy?’
‘For myself?’
‘Yes, for you.’
‘What do I have to do?’ asked the boy in disbelief. This was a lot of money, and he had never seen these men before.
‘Just push my trolley up the street and park it over there, outside the baker’s. Then you can leave it.’
He looked at the trolley, a rusty old push cart with phone top-up cards hanging all over it, a familiar sight in the streets of Kabul as well.
‘That’s all?’
‘That’s all. Here’s the money.’ One of the men thrust the grimy Afghani notes into the boy’s hand.
He pushed the cart along the road. It was heavier than he expected with its cargo of phone cards. But he was a strong lad and he put his back into it. He turned to look at the men. They stood where he had left them, watching. The man in the green kurta had what looked like a mobile phone in his hand.
The boy stopped outside the baker’s. He looked again at the two men to see if they were satisfied where he’d left it. They were still watching him but had now moved further back along the street.
The boy was about to move away from the cart when a police pick-up drove towards him. He stopped to look at the vehicle, fascinated. He hoped to be a policeman himself one day, when he was old enough.
There was an earth-shattering explosion as the bomb in the cart detonated.
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At twenty-nine, Captain Tom Coleman, the Royal Anglian Battle Group intelligence officer, or IO, had been in the Army for seven years. He had done a six-mont
h tour in Iraq in 2005 and had spent six months with ISAF in Kabul in 2002. He had only been IO for about eight months before the start of the tour, but in that time had submerged himself as best he could in Afghan culture and had spent a lot of time talking to people who had previously worked in intelligence in the country and had some understanding of the Taliban. He had inherited the analytical thinking essential for an IO from his parents, both of whom were circuit judges. An Arabic speaker and a competent linguist, with a basic working grasp of Pashtu, Coleman felt that some knowledge of the local language helped in his efforts to understand how the people thought and behaved.
Coleman had been in Sangin District Centre for several days. He was normally based with Carver in Camp Bastion, but he had come here to increase his understanding of the enemy groupings and activities in the area to help the CO develop the operational plan for the upper Sangin valley.
Governor Isatullah, with his intricate knowledge of local connections and relationships, was happy to work closely with the British, exchanging information and imparting his understanding of the people, their leaders and the workings of the local area, all of which was normally impenetrable to outsiders. Isatullah’s insight was vital to Coleman.
As Captain Coleman was walking into the governor’s compound within the DC for his normal morning meeting, he heard the blast in the street outside, nearly 2 kilometres away.
Minutes later the casualties started arriving. As well as the boy from Kabul, the cart bomb had killed an Afghan police officer and seriously wounded another. Several injured locals, including children, were also carried or staggered through the gates, and A Company’s doctor and medics set about the familiar work of patching up shrapnel and blast wounds. Sangin had suffered many bomb attacks in recent weeks.
Although A Company had immediately dispatched a quick reaction force to help the police deal with the situation on the ground, Coleman knew that the first person to have a handle on what was going on would be the governor.
Despite the carnage outside, in his office Isatullah retained his customary air of calm and authority. Coleman entered with Ahmad, his interpreter. He first exchanged the traditional greetings in Pashtu and then reverted to the interpreter. Isatullah sent for some tea.
‘Tell him how sorry I am that his people have been killed and wounded, especially his police officers. Tell him the company is already helping outside, and the doctor is treating the injured, but if there is anything more he needs from us he knows he only has to ask.’
The interpreter relayed Coleman’s sentiments, and Isatullah placed his right hand across his heart and bowed his head in a gesture of appreciation. As Coleman knew he would, the governor explained to Ahmad what had happened just minutes earlier.
The interpreter translated, ‘The governor says every bomb in Sangin is a terrible tragedy, and they seem to be getting more and more frequent. He is very worried by it. But this one is a hundred times worse than all of the others. Not because it is bigger. Not because it has killed more or injured more than others. It is none of these things. The terrible thing about this bomb is that the Taliban used a young child to place it, and they detonated the bomb as the boy pushed it into position. God will never forgive these evil men. Never. He says we must do all we can to stop these agents of Pakistan and Iran. He knows he can count on the assistance of Mr Carver and the whole of his regiment. Only this morning the governor was on the telephone to President Karzai and he told the president what excellent support Mr Carver gives to us here in Sangin. Without him and his officers everything would be much, much worse. The governor says he already knows who carried out this terrible atrocity, and his people and your people must work together to rid the country of him.’
Coleman leaned forward. ‘Ask him who it was.’
After Isatullah had spoken Ahmad said, ‘The governor says you know this man. A very bad man. He is working for Pakistan and for the Iranians and he has attacked your own people before. The governor says it is Shir Agha.’
Coleman knew exactly who Shir Agha was. A local criminal, up to his elbows in every kind of illegal activity in Sangin and beyond. He had ambushed a foot patrol of The 1st Battalion The Worcestershire and Sherwood Foresters, who had been based at Sangin before A Company had arrived. And although he was not believed to have personally led the ambush against B Company’s vehicles on the outskirts of the town on the 17th of May, intelligence confirmed that he had identified the position and led the ambushers into place.
‘Ahmad, thank the governor. Tell him I am sure he has many things to do at this time and I will leave him. But tell him again, if there is anything more he needs from me now, he should call.’
Outside Coleman saw Sergeant Stewart ‘Tiger’ Gardner, a Royal Anglian intelligence NCO who had been on the ground with the Afghan police helping deal with the aftermath of the bomb attack – and doing his best to collect information about what had happened. Gardner confirmed what Isatullah had told Coleman about how the attack took place. He had taken digital photos of the scene, including the cart and the remains of the hapless twelve-year-old boy who had been blown up with it. In the bright sunlight, Coleman squinted at the images in the small screen on the back of Gardner’s camera.
‘Sir,’ said Gardner, ‘I spoke to a bloke that saw everything that happened. Got his details if you want to talk to him. He was pretty disgusted and he said he’d be willing to talk to anyone about it.’
‘Thanks, Sergeant G,’ said Coleman, ‘that could be useful.’
Lieutenant Colonel Carver was back at the battle group main HQ in Camp Bastion. That evening Coleman called him on the secure phone link to brief him on the events in Sangin.
‘That’s really bad,’ said Carver. ‘Shocking. But we know how low these people will stoop. It doesn’t really surprise me. It may also be an opportunity for us to beat the Taliban at their own propaganda game for a change. Here’s what I want you to do. Get those pictures of the attack on to Powerpoint. We’ll show them at the Sangin shura along with our presentation on the reconstruction projects. And get hold of that eye witness of Gardner’s and see if he’ll stand up at the shura and say what he saw. I’ll call Isatullah and clear it with him and try to get him on message. He’s normally pretty good at this sort of thing anyway.
‘Happy? Right, get on with it, and I’ll see you down there in a couple of days. By the way, did Colour Sergeant Neal get those clean socks to you? I gather your other ones were walking on their own.’
Coleman had originally been sent to Sangin for just one day, but the CO had then told him to remain there indefinitely, and bits and pieces of his kit had been sent out from Bastion to keep him going.
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‘The Fighting Ninth have been selected for the first air assault mission that has been launched by Task Force Helmand since this tour began. It will be a precision strike operation against a Taliban bomb-making factory 25 kilometres east of Sangin. L Hour is planned for tomorrow morning, between 0650 and 0800 hours.’
It was midday on 10 July, and Biddick was speaking to his command team. He referred to A Company as ‘The Fighting Ninth’, a nickname given to the 9th Regiment of Foot, which later became the Royal Norfolks, subsequently amalgamated with other regiments to form The 1st Battalion The Royal Anglian Regiment. Biddick’s A (Norfolk) Company considered themselves to be the direct descendants of the 9th of Foot.
The command team were gathered in the operations room at Sangin DC. Although there was no air conditioning, the room was below ground level and usually quite cool. But with twenty-five bodies packed into a room big enough for no more than ten comfortably, and the temperature in the high forties, the place was stifling.
Whenever possible Biddick liked to include all his leaders down to section commander in an O Group. This was unconventional. Normally a company commander would brief his platoon commanders, who would disseminate down to their NCOs and privates. But to Biddick it was vital that as many of his commanders as possible could hear his intentions
and plans first hand, ensuring that the whole command team were brought into the mission in the shortest amount of time and giving a better chance to junior leaders who might have to take command if their superiors were wounded or killed in battle. The sergeants and corporals appreciated this technique, feeling more included in the command team, and better informed.
Better informed, but right now extremely uncomfortable. Mostly dressed in T-shirts, desert shorts and flip flops, they were sweating heavily, jammed in, standing round the bird table. This was a large table, covered with air photographs and maps overlaid with critical information for the forthcoming operation: attack targets, flight paths, drop-off points, cordon locations, cut-off positions, possible enemy exfiltration routes.
‘Before I talk you through my plan, I’m going to hand over to the IO, who will brief you on the enemy picture.’
Captain Tom Coleman stood up, pointing a green radio antenna at one of the air photos. ‘This is the target area,’ he said, ‘the village of Aghlegh, 25 kilometres east of here. We have precise intelligence indicating that these compounds, here in the west side of the village, are the centre of the Taliban IED operation in this whole area.’
Coleman had seized their interest. The commanders were looking intently at the air photos, heat and lack of air forgotten.
He held up a picture and handed it to Lieutenant Graham Goodey, commander of 2 Platoon, seated in the front row. ‘Pass this round. It shows two men digging in what is almost certainly a mine. The image was taken two days ago in the Eastern Desert by Surveillance assets.’
He handed across two other photos. ‘The second photo shows the men leaving the area on a motorbike. The third shows the compound they went to. In Aghlegh. Needless to say, these guys had no idea they were on camera.’
The grainy photos looked like they were still captures from a video camera. While they studied them and passed them on, Coleman continued, ‘From this and other intelligence which we have, I assess that the Aghlegh compound is either a bomb-making factory or at least a storage and distribution centre for IEDs. We estimate there are about four or five people operating in and around that compound.’