Alex Duncan - Sweating the Metal

‘I felt so frustrated immediately afterwards because the only place for a commander is on the ground leading, but I couldn’t get back out with my troops. Within forty-eight hours of the incident, they were back out patrolling, and that’s where I should’ve been – with my guys out on the ground.

‘The squadron had a ceremony for Livvy and Tommo at Bridge Lines, our base at KAF, twenty-four hours after the event and I was adamant that I was going to be there for it. I was aided and abetted, so to speak, by a couple of the nurses, and brought there in a wheelchair. I was assisted in standing up towards the end, and once the dedication ceremony was finished I was sat back in my wheelchair again, whisked away by the nurses and injected with some more morphine. But almost two weeks after the event, I felt I couldn’t do anything else out here and I needed to go home to Yvonne because, as you can imagine, she was beside herself.

‘I was able to go to the boys’ funerals too, and pay my respects – that was obviously very important to me. Yvonne was an absolute brick because she came up to Scotland with me – she was my chauffeur as well. The funerals were back-to-back. And then I spent another four weeks at home. I found both of the funerals really upsetting because I felt very close to the guys; we were a close-knit team. And I remember saying to Yvonne before I deployed that my main objective was to come out here with twenty-four guys and to bring them all home again – every one of them – and looking back on that, I feel that I’ve failed in that respect. That is by far the hardest thing for me. You always think, what if?

‘Hindsight is absolutely brilliant, isn’t it? But I always think to myself, would we have done anything differently? Well no, probably not. There was a strike op happening to the north, and my main objective was to move across to the east of the airfield to actually get out into where we were required. Ultimately it was my decision that we went the way we did, so obviously the responsibility rests with me.

‘I found talking to the Padre out here really helped and I also think – in true regiment style – there’s a lot of black humour that would be lost on a lot of people. We talk of it after the event but obviously no disrespect is meant. I’ve earned the nickname of Panther now, which is quite bizarre because the Italians built a new vehicle a few years ago called a Panther and it can survive the blast of a TC/6, which is the mine that did for our vehicle. It’s that sort of humour that actually brings you through it and helps you deal with it.

‘I was offered counselling but I turned it down and chose to speak with the Padres instead, although I wouldn’t say I was a religious person. I still found it beneficial to talk to them though. Padre Peter, or ‘the mad Scotsman’ as we call him, was great. We’d sit down, have a cup of tea – several actually – myself and Stu Smalley, and we’d just talk. I suppose in some respects Stu and I now have a bond that transcends rank and any other consideration. I know the road ahead isn’t going to be easy, but I’m determined to get to the end, regardless of what it takes. My aim is to redeploy out here again as soon as I’m fit.’

Our first couple of weeks in theatre didn’t really produce any surprises; we flew a steady routine of taskings and rotations on the IRT/HRF down at Bastion. It was a good way to acclimatise. Although we flew a couple of minor pre-planned ops, nothing happened to get the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, and I was even beginning to believe that the whole Det might prove uneventful.

Towards the end of April, I was involved in an operation called ‘Jnu Brishna’ or ‘Sudden Thunder’, which I was quite excited about because it meant us providing support to Easy Company of the 101st Airborne. On our downtime in theatre, one of the most popular DVD box sets was Band of Brothers . In the crew tent, killing time waiting for a shout on the IRT, it was back-to-back Band of Brothers as we followed Major Dick Winters and his men through France, Belgium and into the Berchtesgaden in Germany. Now we were tasked to fly their latter-day successors into battle; what a privilege.

I expected the mission to be quite straightforward; it was to be a simple movement of troops from one point to another, in the area south-west of Qalat, to enable them to take over a couple of villages. I wasn’t really expecting much in the way of enemy activity there; the Americans on the other hand, were.

To be perfectly honest, the thing that worried me more than Taliban activity was flying in a massive package of US Army helicopters. It would be the first time I’d operated as part of such a large gaggle; all my previous experience being with just my own cab and one other – a Black Hawk, Pave Hawk or Apache, or even another Chinook. This, though, would involve something like six US Chinooks and two of ours, plus several Apaches and Black Hawks… ten aircraft just to move the troops.

I mentioned previously that the Americans have a different way of doing things, but this operation really opened my eyes to just how different we are. Before we undertake any operation, we do what we call RoC (Rehearsal of Concept) drills; they are something we learn at basic Officer Training and are common throughout the British Military but essentially do exactly what the name suggests. For us, it means rehearsing the operation by making a rough representation of the battlefield using mud, sand or whatever, and then using objects such as rocks, twigs and sticks to represent soldiers, compounds, vehicles etc. We’ll walk around talking about what we’d do here if this happened, or what we’d do there if that happened. It’s a really useful and effective way to iron out all the ifs and buts and make sure everybody knows what they’re doing.

For the Americans, the principle is the same, except it allows no room for invention or ‘on the fly’ planning. It’s rigid, overblown and unnecessarily complicated. The American method requires one standard-size aircraft hangar (empty); everyone involved in the op; and finally, a full script. Their rehearsal means everyone going through every single aspect, including all the radio calls, as if we were actually flying – the fucking rehearsal takes longer than the actual mission! It’s unbelievable – there is no latitude for independent thinking. What alarmed me most was when this question came up: ‘How are we going to hold if there’s a contact and the area is hot?’

Their holding plan was appalling, and I said to Pete, ‘If that happens, we’re buggering off about three miles down that way and we’re staying well away from them.’

I’ll tell you why I was worried – the Lt Col who was their commanding officer said to them: ‘If you come to a halt with an underslung load, you’ll have to come down to minimum power speed.’

I looked at Pete and said, ‘Can you believe these guys have to be reminded when to come back to minimum power speed?’ That in itself spoke volumes. It’s Helicopter 101 and they have to be reminded of the basic techniques. That really had the hairs on the back of my neck waking up!

In the event, we flew two loads of troops and, logistically, it was well organised. It ran on rails, nobody came under contact and we all shut down back at KAF at the end of the day, satisfied with a job well done. They don’t often end that way.

We had a change of crew at the end of the month and for the rest of the Det, I was flying with Alex Townsend, Bob Ruffles and Neil ‘Coops’ Cooper. Both Bob and Coops are ex-7 Squadron, and you couldn’t ask for a more experienced rear crew.