SAT silent in the darkness, and clad in body armour as we made our final approach into Kandahar the plane’s captain addressed the tired assembled passengers.
“Unfortunately we are unable to land at the moment because of activity on the ground. “We may have to avoid Kandahar and fly into Muscat instead. Sorry for the inconvenience.”
‘Welcome back to Afghanistan’ I thought.
I was here reporting from Afghanistan for The Herald almost exactly two years ago.
Just an hour before we were due to depart Kandahar following a seven-day stint, Taliban insurgents targeted the runway with a rocket.
So what happened last night? Yep, you got it… the buggers decided to do it again.
After circling the airspace over the capital of Kandahar Province for about 30 minutes we finally landed. And you could say I was relieved.
It was only after that I was told a Hercules aircraft was forced to take off again when the rocket nearly hit it as it came to land before us.
It’s times like this that you begin questioning why you were so adamant in the first place about coming back to Afghanistan, not least Kandahar – the spiritual home of the Taliban.
Oh well, all’s fair in love and war so they say.
So yes, for the next three weeks or so I will be living and working alongside Plymouth’s 42 Commando normally based at Bickleigh.
What we will be doing, I’m not sure. Due to operational security I can’t exactly say what we will be doing, only talking about it after the events have taken place.
However, I can assure everyone that it will be “hoofing” – as the Royals say – and pretty tough going by all accounts.
While 42 Cdo’s 590 marines are largely based here in Kandahar they are operating across the province of Kandahar and beyond. And with any luck I will be joining them on operations reporting from life on the very frontline.
For now though I’m based here at Kandahar air field with elements of 42 Cdo, and forces from Canada, the US, and Holland.
The sun-baked base itself is bustling with activity. While last night seemed cold (probably around one or two degrees) today the temperature has seriously cranked to easily 27 or 28 degrees.
Of course the sun has cooked the ground here for months on end and the place resembles a desert with countless tents and structures.
With every passing vehicle a dust storm follows, blinding and choking every unfortunate pedestrian.
The lads seem to hate the sand as much as the enemy; but this is one war they can’t win. They’re praying for rain to allow them to breathe properly. Can’t say I blame them. I’ve been here five minutes and I’m spluttering.
Other than that they all seem in good spirits. Plans change, it seems, by the second but that’s the military isn’t it? They just crack on.
So by day the place is bustling with vehicles. By night, when the majority of the attacks seem to happen, the airbase comes to life with endless loud take offs and landings.
Anyone who has witnessed a Hercules aircraft taking off will tell you just how noisy they are – and they’re not wrong.
Residents of Roborough living close to Plymouth City Airport take note – this is the real deal and these guys have to live next door to it for six months. And you chose to live there!
I got barely a wink of sleep last night but hey, the sleepless nights thinking about this trip at the very least prepared me.
So much has happened already in very little time. I met with the very proud Commanding Officer of 42 Commando this morning who talked me through the set up and various operations.
And of course the Royal Marine banter has started with the lads. Not that I can understand whether it’s an insult or compliment of course – they have their own language.
So yes, here I am once again… a stranger in a foreign land.
I’ll be in touch.
Tristan
Twitter: @tristan_nichols
No comments:
Post a Comment