On the rare occasion when I’m late for work having overslept, it takes me around 20 to 30 minutes to get changed and out the door.
Last night’s two explosions which shook the dust off the inside of my military tent, saw me get changed and out the door literally within seconds.
I was asleep at the time on my makeshift bed at the back of a logistics office and the blasts saw me scramble for cover.
As I raced out of the tent, one arm through my top and belt and shoe laces undone, a couple of marines looked at me in surprise.
As this is a family newspaper’s website I can’t reveal what exactly came out of my mouth, but I can say it would have been enough to turn the dark and dusty sky blue.
It transpired that the two blasts were in fact controlled explosions of insurgent explosives found near the base and carried out outside the base.
Believe me when I say I have never heard a blast like it. The ground shuddered not once but twice and I was seriously shaken.
An earlier announcement over Kandahar base’s tannoy system had made clear controlled explosions would take place in 15 minutes time. This was nearly an hour later and was completely unexpected.
“They do that a lot,” a marine from Plymouth called Kev said.
“Keeps you on your toes.”
“Or awake and out of bed,” I replied.
Apparently insurgents like to place timers on rockets and leave them to fire inside the base. There’s no target and they don’t really know where they’re going but they do make it inside.
Military patrols do look for the insurgents to prevent them firing but it’s impossible to stop them all.
Last night I also discovered why I have been getting some strange glances from service personnel on base.
It seems my grizzly beard, shaven head and non-military issue clothes have given people the impression I am in fact ‘SF’ – or in normal speak ‘Special Forces’.
Twin that with my quiet nature (speak when spoken to for fear of saying something stupid), everyone has been pretty stand-offish for obvious reasons.
When another 42 Commando marine asked me if I was ‘SF’ I nearly cried with laughter – and when he heard I was nothing but a mere reporter for The Herald – he nearly cried with laughter too.
So that’s it, my covers blown. But it has in fact helped with attracting hometown stories from the lads.
They’re pleased to see some from ‘Guzz’ [Plymouth] as they call it out here. In a world that seems to do nothing but moan about the war in Afghanistan, they’re happy to feel appreciated for what they do.
Today has been a day of reflection for everyone.
Earlier a huge Remembrance Day event was staged on a parade ground on the base.
The names of three Royal Marines who died – and who were friends of friends of mine – were read out.
It brings it home to you when you know someone who has been affected by someone’s premature departure.
One thing that stuck in my mind was part of the speech the padre gave during the service.
He pointed out that the three colours which made up the poppies we were all wearing – red, green and black – are in fact the three colours of the Afghanistan flag.
Hmmm…
Last night’s two explosions which shook the dust off the inside of my military tent, saw me get changed and out the door literally within seconds.
I was asleep at the time on my makeshift bed at the back of a logistics office and the blasts saw me scramble for cover.
As I raced out of the tent, one arm through my top and belt and shoe laces undone, a couple of marines looked at me in surprise.
As this is a family newspaper’s website I can’t reveal what exactly came out of my mouth, but I can say it would have been enough to turn the dark and dusty sky blue.
It transpired that the two blasts were in fact controlled explosions of insurgent explosives found near the base and carried out outside the base.
Believe me when I say I have never heard a blast like it. The ground shuddered not once but twice and I was seriously shaken.
An earlier announcement over Kandahar base’s tannoy system had made clear controlled explosions would take place in 15 minutes time. This was nearly an hour later and was completely unexpected.
“They do that a lot,” a marine from Plymouth called Kev said.
“Keeps you on your toes.”
“Or awake and out of bed,” I replied.
Apparently insurgents like to place timers on rockets and leave them to fire inside the base. There’s no target and they don’t really know where they’re going but they do make it inside.
Military patrols do look for the insurgents to prevent them firing but it’s impossible to stop them all.
Last night I also discovered why I have been getting some strange glances from service personnel on base.
It seems my grizzly beard, shaven head and non-military issue clothes have given people the impression I am in fact ‘SF’ – or in normal speak ‘Special Forces’.
Twin that with my quiet nature (speak when spoken to for fear of saying something stupid), everyone has been pretty stand-offish for obvious reasons.
When another 42 Commando marine asked me if I was ‘SF’ I nearly cried with laughter – and when he heard I was nothing but a mere reporter for The Herald – he nearly cried with laughter too.
So that’s it, my covers blown. But it has in fact helped with attracting hometown stories from the lads.
They’re pleased to see some from ‘Guzz’ [Plymouth] as they call it out here. In a world that seems to do nothing but moan about the war in Afghanistan, they’re happy to feel appreciated for what they do.
Today has been a day of reflection for everyone.
Earlier a huge Remembrance Day event was staged on a parade ground on the base.
The names of three Royal Marines who died – and who were friends of friends of mine – were read out.
It brings it home to you when you know someone who has been affected by someone’s premature departure.
One thing that stuck in my mind was part of the speech the padre gave during the service.
He pointed out that the three colours which made up the poppies we were all wearing – red, green and black – are in fact the three colours of the Afghanistan flag.
Hmmm…
Twitter: @tristan_nichols
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