THE last few days have been a bit of a blur. They’ve been a whirlwind of activities and, to be honest, I’ve found it pretty hard going.
What I couldn’t say before (due to operational security) was that we were planning to go out on a number of patrols in downtown Kabul.
We are constantly reminded that we cannot discuss – either on phone or email - forthcoming operations in case someone is listening in.
Apparently the calls are routed via other countries in the region and the emails are bounced around to god knows where.
This has proved rather infuriating – no doubt – for my newsdesk, family and girlfriend, Suzie, as they have had no idea where I have been or what I have been doing.
In any case yesterday’s two patrols, in Snatch vehicles and on foot, were fascinating and terrifying in equal measure.
Every single aspect of a patrol is carefully planned and executed in case of any eventuality.
Driving down the street is an operation in itself. The Snatch vehicles swap positions, zig-zag across the roads and slow traffic to allow them to pass.
On several occasions yesterday marines had to fire flares at the oncoming traffic to get them to slow down.
When the marines scream at people to “slow down” and “move out of the way”, you cannot help but feel on edge.
As any marine will tell you, it only takes a second for something to go very wrong. If concentration lapses very bad things happen – and no-one wants that.
It’s all very well being kept in camp surrounded by coalition forces personnel but it is a very different world outside of those four walls.
Leaving the gates you immediately realise the scale of poverty, and how good we really have it in comparison.
Speaking absolutely impartially you also get an idea of how much work is being done in these Afghan communities by the coalition forces.
Civil and Military Co-operation (CIMIC) schemes are in abundance and range from upgrades to roads and drainage systems to improvements to schools and mosques.
And the Afghan people need this help.
Going out on patrol is an eye opener to say the least.
When you see a partially clothed child running around gleefully in the dust fields pulling a brick on a piece of cord as a toy, it makes you think.
How can these people be so very happy with so little? It’s a wonder to behold and one which the British society should grasp.
As soon as you step out of the armoured Snatch vehicles and walk around you are immediately surrounded by children and adults who want only to shake your hand.
Admittedly most want dollars or your pen or notepad, but nonetheless the feeling towards the British is clearly evident.
Every Afghan I spoke to through a translator spoke of their appreciation for the British efforts in terms of providing security. They want nothing more than to live in peace.
But peace sadly comes at a price. Upon returning from our first patrol news broke of the death of two Plymouth-based servicemen.
If someone hadn’t have mentioned it I would have been none the wiser.
The Royal Marines accept the loss but continue with their operations like machines. Yes they have hearts, but there is a time for grieving and now is the time for helping others.
Certainly by the time we returned from the second patrol the mood had changed. The lads were tired and – if I can say it – emotional.
Their heads were bowed slightly, but their minds were focused.
What I couldn’t say before (due to operational security) was that we were planning to go out on a number of patrols in downtown Kabul.
We are constantly reminded that we cannot discuss – either on phone or email - forthcoming operations in case someone is listening in.
Apparently the calls are routed via other countries in the region and the emails are bounced around to god knows where.
This has proved rather infuriating – no doubt – for my newsdesk, family and girlfriend, Suzie, as they have had no idea where I have been or what I have been doing.
In any case yesterday’s two patrols, in Snatch vehicles and on foot, were fascinating and terrifying in equal measure.
Every single aspect of a patrol is carefully planned and executed in case of any eventuality.
Driving down the street is an operation in itself. The Snatch vehicles swap positions, zig-zag across the roads and slow traffic to allow them to pass.
On several occasions yesterday marines had to fire flares at the oncoming traffic to get them to slow down.
When the marines scream at people to “slow down” and “move out of the way”, you cannot help but feel on edge.
As any marine will tell you, it only takes a second for something to go very wrong. If concentration lapses very bad things happen – and no-one wants that.
It’s all very well being kept in camp surrounded by coalition forces personnel but it is a very different world outside of those four walls.
Leaving the gates you immediately realise the scale of poverty, and how good we really have it in comparison.
Speaking absolutely impartially you also get an idea of how much work is being done in these Afghan communities by the coalition forces.
Civil and Military Co-operation (CIMIC) schemes are in abundance and range from upgrades to roads and drainage systems to improvements to schools and mosques.
And the Afghan people need this help.
Going out on patrol is an eye opener to say the least.
When you see a partially clothed child running around gleefully in the dust fields pulling a brick on a piece of cord as a toy, it makes you think.
How can these people be so very happy with so little? It’s a wonder to behold and one which the British society should grasp.
As soon as you step out of the armoured Snatch vehicles and walk around you are immediately surrounded by children and adults who want only to shake your hand.
Admittedly most want dollars or your pen or notepad, but nonetheless the feeling towards the British is clearly evident.
Every Afghan I spoke to through a translator spoke of their appreciation for the British efforts in terms of providing security. They want nothing more than to live in peace.
But peace sadly comes at a price. Upon returning from our first patrol news broke of the death of two Plymouth-based servicemen.
If someone hadn’t have mentioned it I would have been none the wiser.
The Royal Marines accept the loss but continue with their operations like machines. Yes they have hearts, but there is a time for grieving and now is the time for helping others.
Certainly by the time we returned from the second patrol the mood had changed. The lads were tired and – if I can say it – emotional.
Their heads were bowed slightly, but their minds were focused.
Twitter: @tristan_nichols
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