Taking a rest during a tough foot patrol

I’d always wandered how it felt to be shot at, to hear the crack of bullets breaking the sound barrier above my head and to feel the adrenaline flood through my body.

When it happened it was strangely surreal, like it was happening to somebody else. My heart rate barely seemed to rise above its normal level. It was Christmas day 2007 and I was in Helmand Province, Southern Afghanistan with the Royal Marines. I was embedded with Delta Company 40 Commando based at Forward Operating Base Gibraltar.

When the Taliban began their ambush we were crossing an open field between two large mud walled compounds. One of the Marines spotted something unusual and we went to ground. I thumbed the record button on my DSR 500 Sony Video Camera and began to frame up on the Marines who were poised and ready for anything. Immediately there was a distinctive bang and whistle from the trees to our front, “RPG” screamed one of the guys next to me. I buried my nose in the dirt at the bottom of the shallow ditch I was hiding in. The explosion was close, maybe ten meters behind us. It was followed by a number of single shots from an AK-47 that I could clearly hear whipping through the air above my head. The Marines began to return fire under the direction of Lieutenant Atherton, a baby faced young officer, incredibly calm for a man experiencing his first taste of battle. Jonesy, a black guy from Wales was next to me and he quickly opened up with his weapon. The sound of his Minimi machine gun was vicious as it went into action spraying controlled bursts of fire into the Taliban positions. “Incoming” screamed someone close as another RPG round exploded nearby. For a minute I’d forgotten why I was there and was too busy tasting the Afghanistan dirt to film. Eventually the Bootneck next to me asked if I planned on filming any of this, I laughed and began looking for shots. I felt detached, like I was watching the entire scene play out through somebody else’s eyes. The battle soon steadied and the frantic back and forth of small arms fire slowly died away, the Marines picking their shots looking to minimize damage to the surrounding village. After some time it appeared the Taliban had withdrawn, no more fire came our way and slowly we began to move back across the open ground and into the cover of an empty compound nearby.

50. Cal machine Gun FOB Gibraltar

I’ve thought about that day many times since. Every sight and sound is seared into my memory. It was the closest I’ve ever come to death, one of the few times I’ve ever had to consider my own mortality. But it is also one of my best memories, one of the highlights of my life. Looking back I felt more alive on that day than at any other time before or since. I guess that’s the addiction of combat, it’s that feeling that Soldiers and War Cameramen live for, the buzz that keeps them going back into hot spots again and again.

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