Now I think we are beginning to see the bow-wave of trauma.
Therefore I go with the men sometimes, pray for them always.
3 Life So Far
My mother was keen to celebrate birthdays –
still is.
When I turned twenty-five
I got her cake on exercise in Brecon,
my friend Tom
pulled it out from his rucksack for me –
he’d been carting it round a week.
Then I got cake again
in the Mess before we went to head off.
Afghanistan is something I wanted,
really wanted.
I’ve always enjoyed being outside,
playing in the woods.
First job
was Ground Holding in Central Helmand,
a base the size of a tennis court,
fifteen people,
actually good
for someone who doesn’t have a house so far
or anything.
We patrolled a lot on foot,
maybe eight or ten hours each day;
if you think of the country
like a map of the Underground
we were pretty safe in Zones 1 and 2.
Further off in Zone 4
it was more kinetic,
which I’d say refers to enemy action
when they’re shooting at you,
a good insurgent presence.
After that
we went to the desert country west of Sangin,
a thousand metres above sea level,
absolutely bare and cold.
At night I dug this hole
only a little larger than my body;
I was very cosy in my down jacket,
with a warm sleeping bag,
and a thick mat.
I was making a nest,
everything tucked in.
It’s a strange one.
All night I was just a pair of eyes
with the sky running over me,
not sleeping,
looking at the stars and the black horizon,
not seeing any depth.
There’s something to be said
for thinking earth has been here a long time.
Everything feels sweeter
coming back to camp after that.
Trees for instance.
And poppy fields in April and May –
field after field of poppies –
then desert,
then more blocks of colour,
pink and red and white.
And compounds showing up green,
and clear blue skies
above brown walls and barbed wire.
Really quite good actually:
you’ve made your decision,
you want to lead men in an operation.
But you don’t want to die,
not much,
so you’re always looking for ground signs,
a patch of disturbed earth,
a wire poking out
or an antenna,
and you’re always totally unpredictable
about where you are,
erratic,
finding the most difficult way
to get to anywhere,
avoiding bottlenecks and crossroads,
cutting through hedges,
constantly observing,
in and out of the ditches which were –.
Well,
you’re carrying fifty kilos of equipment,
wearing body armour plates front and rear,
smaller ones on both sides,
knee-pads, gloves, glasses, helmet, chin-strap,
ear-piece for the radio,
thick lycra shorts to protect against the blast,
also a heavy thing like a nappy.
Amazing how the body gets used to it.
You sweat and sweat
and you don’t hold anything back,
you just sweat and accept.
Once a week
we went down to Helmand River,
cliffs one side
and the other a wide green zone,
and no we didn’t swim there,
the current was too fast.
But we did stand there in our full armour,
and we saw the country opening
right the way up to the mountains.
Another time
it was four o’clock in the morning,
June,
and we needed to cross a ditch,
actually much less of a ditch
more like a river,
a narrow river and straight,
with trees either side
and the moon shining between them.
I stepped forward.
I stepped forward into the water
and I felt
my feet lose
touch with the bottom,
and I was just
‘O goodness I’m sinking’,
and my legs were floating away
but it was all fine
to get wet,
it was fine,
and go through onto the high ground again.
4 The Programme
I’m an army brat. I was brought up
to love the army. Basically I now do
army intelligence work. I’m twenty.
It was difficult for Mum to start with.
Take good care of yourself she said;
keep your head down; be a grey man.
But you can’t do that, no. You see it.
You see it and you think it isn’t real,
until you get smells and other things.
I miss the gym, did I mention the gym?
I did the Insanity Training Programme
and I loved it. I followed that through.
5 Talking to the Moon
Twenty-two years I’ve been in the army
my husband
we were at Sandhurst together
and five years after
courting
I think is the word
I’d done Bosnia by then
in a tented camp
with the floods
and guys ringing home
with water
up to their knees
so with his tours
in Ireland
Iraq
Afghanistan now
I do understand
I do
I’ve been there
I’ve done that
but hey
I don’t want to hear
the day
he sent me a bluey
I took it
I looked at the map
mistake
a giant mistake
I thought
don’t need it
I don’t
we have four children
and Freddy the oldest
fourteen
he’s quick
much quicker
stop
stop
stop
stop
I set up the choir
I’ve started my art
you have to do something
Sharon and Franny and Pam
I don’t know
what would I do
injured
or broken
also there’s writing
but actually
I am so
hey
at least you’re twisting the lid
or
you look at the mountains
they take you away
who could be there
who has explored them
who
is living there now
also the sky
if the children
are wanting to talk
I say to them
talk to the moon
Daddy can do that
talk to the moon together
then there’s the bunting
it’s hardly
&n
bsp; like Christmas
but listen
it comes with us everywhere
we have a box
embarrassing really
never mind that
no one will see it
this time
this time when he’s home
we’re tucked away in the woods.
6 Critical Care
Jesus – Stay still – Stay fucking still –
Stay with us – Put morphine on it –
Don’t touch it – Don’t touch it –
We’ve got to get him out now –
We’ve got to get him out now –
*
All the way across on the slide.
Everyone ready?
Slide
*
You’re back in England.
and my name’s Clare.
You’ve got three of us you lucky boy.
Kate, and Hazel, and Clare.
Now just take a little break
in your breathing again.
Good lad, good lad,
you’re doing very well.
But it’s not the best day you’ve ever had,
is it, Andrew?
*
The explosion has driven
a whole load of sand
and mud and rubbish
up into the tissue planes.
And of course the bugs,
they’ve got in there
and they love it.
They’ve got a lovely warm moist wound,
lots of nutrients,
and they think they’re on holiday.
*
This is Mum,
Mum’s come to see you.
And Natalie was on the phone
asking how you’re doing.
She’s waiting for me to tell her
everything’s all right.
But it’s not, is it babes?
Well,
we’ll wait for the morning
and see how that goes.
*
We’re going to try and save the other leg,
his foot still has a pulse.
We’re going to use topical negative pressure,
suction if you like, or a vacuum.
The bugs really don’t like it.
*
If you knew what was in store for you
you wouldn’t have your children.
*
The blast also ripped the gums from his teeth.
This thing here,
this is a bit of grass from an Afghan field.
*
Natalie’s with me now.
She says the baby’s
kicking the crap out of her,
don’t you love?
*
The surface of his eyes are so badly burned
a special membrane has been imported from America
to help reduce scarring.
It’s the best chance he has
of regaining some sight.
*
Now
is really a waiting game.
All you do is wait.
*
Unfortunately
the foot doesn’t look very good.
Dusky.
The decision to operate depends on several factors.
*
I told you I’d be back to hold your hand,
didn’t I, love?
Here I am. I hope you can feel me holding.
*
Sister could you get a power amputation saw?
An amputation saw on power?
*
I imagine his first thoughts will be
it’s better off dying.
*
As long as you can sleep peacefully
after making the decision
then you have made the right decision.
And I think we will sleep peacefully
after making this decision today.
*
We find on the whole
when we do take the station off,
and allow them to wake up,
they are absolutely terrified.
Then we keep having to stress
they are safe now.
They are safe now.
*
It’s all looking good.
It’s all looking very good in fact.
What we do next is take a sliver of skin,
a graze,
like when you fall off your bike.
Can I give you the skin?
*
You are sort of coming round now,
aren’t you love?
You’ve been here three weeks
and you’ve been injured.
Yes lovey you have.
You’ve been here three weeks
and I’ve been at your side.
You’ve been injured.
*
He’s been nodding yes and no
and squeezing my hand.
I can’t tell
what the noes are about.
*
You still remember what’s wrong don’t you?
No?
You want to hear again?
You’ve lost your legs.
Yes two of them, both of them.
Please don’t push me away, mate.
Please don’t push me away.
*
Andrew lives every day.
He lives every day for a hopefully.
7 One Tourniquet
It was a long time ago
but I was there,
a combat medical technician.
I saw
children and IEDs
which wasn’t nice at all.
One boy:
he had shorts and a dirty vest,
he stood on a mine.
He was conscious at first,
screaming,
and I thought
what a mess.
All in a bit of field.
None of the other kids cried,
they’re all quite sort of tough.
Very tough kids in fact.
Definitely.
At the time
we were issued with only one tourniquet each.
But Camp Phoenix was down the road
and he went there.
A double amputee.
We heard later he survived.
So yeah. Brilliant.
Everything is hard.
Everything they’ve got to do
everywhere they’ve got to go.
Just hard.
I used to imagine
little towns in the country
nobody knew.
Little towns nobody had touched.
People would be living there
all the same.
Just living there
in the vastness.
8 The Gardener
In memory of Lieutenant Mark Evison
We spent
many hours kneeling together in the garden
so many hours
Mark
he liked lending a hand
watching Gardeners’ World
building compost heaps
or the brick path with the cherry tree
that grows over it now the white cherry
where I thought I mustn’t cry
I must behave
as if he’s coming back
*
It was just after Easter
with everything in leaf
he is so sweet really
though worldly
before his time
I kissed him and said
See you
in six months and he turned
he turned and said
*
I opened the garden for the first time
the National Gardens Scheme
you know
what gardens are like in May
and this man was hovering around
outside the front
as we walked down the side passage
he said
I’m a Major
I said Oh my son he’s in the army
sort of brightly
*
Then no one was there
so I went
and I gardened all day
how slow how satisfying
I felt next morning
he was struggling for his life
*
He would be home
with three transfers
on three different planes
my daughter Elizabeth and I drove to Birmingham
my mobile there on the dashboard
we had worked out the times of the last plane
Peace Talks Page 6