Alex Duncan - Sweating the Metal

First shout was at 08:45. Received a radio call from the Watchkeeper: ‘Do you know you have a shout?’ We run the 400m to the aircraft, get dressed in body armour, panting and sweating. When the cab’s turning and burning and the secure radio is online I call Ops requesting details.

Their response? ‘Why are you up? There’s no shout.’

Turns out someone got their wires crossed and called one of the many agencies for some details on something: ‘No panic, there’s no shout.’ This person heard ‘shout’ and called everyone on line… wankers!

Next call was to pick up a British soldier suffering from appendicitis from a grid just south of Sangin. At that point I needed fifty minutes flying to achieve my 2,000hrs. We landed after forty minutes. I then had a total of 1,999 hrs and fifty minutes.

Next shout occurred at 13:00; airborne at 13:09. Told to go to Marjah, a nasty shithole. An American soldier had been shot and had a sucking chest wound. He was choking on blood and breathing with difficulty. I was in the left seat; Nobby was flying from the right. I was encouraging him to go as fast as he could with some colourful expressions:

‘Whip that bitch!’

‘Thrash the bastard!’

I wanted to get there yesterday. The cab was giving all she could but it wasn’t as much as I wanted.

We had to wait for the Apache to establish comms. The Americans on the ground were struggling to answer our call. We were holding four miles west of Marjah. Had been waiting for ten minutes when called in. Again I encouraged Nobby to fly hard and make us a difficult target. Called for smoke and saw it.

Nobby slowed down for descent but it was too shy an approach so I took control to reduce our slow airtime by five seconds. Fuck, it was dusty! Gave the aircraft back to Nobby and off we went. She was giving all she had – thrashed her like a jockey does his horse. People commented on our speed of arrival at Bastion. Sadly, the young US soldier died before we reached Nightingale. That was me at 2,000hrs and twenty minutes. A milestone achieved in the worst way possible. One I won’t forget.

Trained Pete Amstutz today; he had a tough day on IRT. Taliban attacked a school with grenades earlier. It only opened a few days ago. He had to medevac ten children aged between two and four. Six were critical, one dead. None of us could believe that human beings, especially ones claiming superiority to the West, could do such a thing. Evil, inhuman fuckers.

Tired today. Started work 20:00 yesterday, finished 10:00 this a.m. Had to lead another op that went superbly. Planned it so there were no radio calls between the cabs involved, everything was done on timing, which I’d worked out to the last second. It was literally military precision in action. Unbeknownst to me, full colonel in charge of aviation was watching our progress on the Predator feed. We hit the target dead on time, right down to the second. As he walked away he said, ‘Well done guys, that was very slick!’ I love it when a plan comes together like that. The boss was delighted.

Had some other good news. Looks like my report has made the cut for the promotion board. I’ll be one of 150 Flight Lieutenants scrutinised for potential promotion, one of two from 27 Squadron. The OC said there’s a chance that even if I fail to make this year’s, I’d be in good stead for next year. Am currently riding an ‘A-’, provided I don’t fuck up. It means appearing twice on the board, but with those marks, plus my DFC, it should help towards promotion. We’ll see; Strategic Defence Review ahead so nothing certain.

We get up at 06:50 to make morning brief at 07:30. Today we’re on the IRT out of Bastion. Brief consists of Met for the day, summary of last 24hrs of ops and various contacts with enemy. Also an intelligence brief (which, to be fair, isn’t!).

After, we drive to Safety Equipment Section to collect our aircrew flying gear (jacket with armour plates, emergency radios, survival bag). From there, drive to the armoury to draw our personal rifles and pistols. Then make our way to the aircraft where the previous IRT crew awaits eagerly to swap duties. They had busy 24hrs with three shouts. After aircraft handover we position all our flying gear and ‘cock’ the aircraft, so a minimum of button presses to start whenever we’re scrambled.

Make our way back to IRT tent, which is kitted out to be as relaxing as possible between each very intense period of work. Put on Gavin and Stacey DVD, chill out, laughing out loud for two episodes. Halfway through the third episode, phone rings – we leap into action.

I grab the phone to get the details – a badly injured civilian in Lashkar Gah – while the rest of the crew run outside. I have to catch up over a 400m run across dirt tracks, between hangars and onto the pan to get to the back of the aircraft. Do quick walk-around, flicking two aerials at front as per my superstitious habit, while crew rush in and get ready. Meanwhile MERT and ground force protection arrive.

I jump in behind them and make my way to front. Fit my anti-fragment vest followed by armour-plated jacket, remove clip from my pistol to check, then reseat it and holster weapon on my chest. Slip my helmet on and jump in the left-hand seat; co-pilot is already in the right-hand seat, starting the engines. Once start-up’s complete, we’ve all the details of the casualty along with his status and the grid. This one doesn’t sound very good. From experience, I know there’s little chance we’ll get to him in time. Nonetheless we’re ready in seven minutes and taxi out.

Area of Operation is busy today so our Apache escort’s already overhead, engaging enemy. We route on our own, at height initially, to cross the most dangerous part out of reach of enemy small arms. Eventually descend to low level for final run into HLS. Land with no problems, but after a couple of minutes on the ground we’re told the casualty was returned to the hospital as he’s too unstable to travel by air. We read into this that he was on his last breaths; we’ve all seen it too often before. Depart Lash and return to Bastion without incident.

Once we shed our kit and re-cock the aircraft it’s back to the tent. Pick up with Gavin and Stacey again. 14:39 and phone rings; airborne by 14:46. This time shout’s for two casualties in Green Zone north of Nadi Ali. Both are children who walked on an IED laid by Taliban.

Pick-up area is crawling with enemy forces so I give crewmen orders regarding response to enemy fire – if they see a threat they’ve my authority to engage. Apache meets us overhead and comes down closely on our wing, bringing his formidable array of weapons to bear on anyone who might dare engage us. It works, as we don’t take any fire. The landing is a difficult one in a tiny site with a lot of dust. Once it clears, stretcher-bearers approach from the front. The second has a blanket covering someone very small. Our hearts sink; we hate to pick up children. We’re sent to a hospital thirty minutes south that is ready to receive both children for surgery.

We thrash the aircraft to get there as fast as possible. Struggle to get radio communication with destination airfield so I have to make a tough decision: make an unauthorised approach to an American airfield, or hold. Holding not an option due to condition of children, so continue approach parallel to a cargo plane on finals to the runway. Wonder what they thought of the British Chinook flying in formation with them. Finally US controller comes on frequency asking our intentions and he’s quickly told. Doctor passes a piece of paper forward to me with casualty status to pass to hospital. I read and gulp: one seriously wounded eight-year-old male and a dead four-year-old girl. Land on hospital LS and unload casualties, waiting for the doctors to do their handover to the surgical team. Once everybody’s onboard, we start a long and silent thirty-minute journey back to Bastion.