This is a guest post from BBC Cameraman and Editor Luke Winsbury. He details his 2009 embed with French Troops in kapisa Province, Afghanistan. It’s an interesting and entertaining look at operating as an embedded journalist with a Foreign Army. To watch the film he made click on this link.
It’s 4am when I’m woken up in a large hangar-come-tent. I’ve barely slept because it’s freezing and there was heavy machine gun fire all night. That makes it 3 nights in a row with barely any sleep. We’re in Tagab, a French forward operating base (FOB) in Kapisa Province, North of Kabul. I have no idea what it looks like because we arrived in darkness and, because the base gets rocketed regularly, it is entirely unlit. You’re not even allowed head torches, except dim red light ones which I’m smugly pleased I have.
Nijrab Base, Northern Afghanistan.
We’re bundled into a VAB (armored vehicle). It’s so totally disorientating when you’re this tired and you have no idea where you are or really what you’re about to face. Not even the red light head torches are allowed at this point. I had taken the decision, much against the advice of the French, to take my full size DSR500 camera on patrol. They wanted to take something smaller but I explained that, like them with their guns, I use a DSR reflexively and quickly.
We travel for about an hour in the dark – and it really is pitch black in the back of the VAB. I use my small A1 camera to get some night vision shots of the soldiers in the back. Their eyes glow green and stare blankly into nowhere. They have no idea I’m pointing a camera at them. Ironically I am the only the one in the back of that thing that gets glimpses of anything.
We’re in a Pashtun area where the French had a three hour contact (Army terminology for a Gun-Fight) the previous week, on a joint patrol with the ANA (Afghan National Army) delivering clothes and medical supplies to the main village of Tagab.
French Troops on patrol near Tagab villiage, Northern Afghanistan.
Emma Jane Kirby, the BBC’s Paris Correspondent, and myself are here to see what the French are up to now in Afghanistan. They’ve had a lot of stick in the past for not doing their fair share in Afghanistan but in the recent years they’ve increased their troop numbers and taken control of the strategically important Kapisa Province, the Northern Gateway to Kabul. We’re with the Chasseurs Alpins (Mountain Hunters), the elite mountain infantry troops of the French Army.
The VAB stops, the back door swings open revealing the half-light of dawn. In my haste to get out and actually see something I make the mistake of not grabbing my spares bag. We know we’re going off on foot but don’t know for how long – could be hours. I start filming but immediately get told to start moving through the village. It has suddenly become very tense – something had changed – I don’t understand what or why. I don’t even have time to grab my spares bag from our VAB. I only have the battery on the camera and the tape inside it then. Idiot. Luckily Emma Jane is already wearing her Radio Microphone.
We’re at the back of the patrol, which is the worst place to be, both for filming and for our safety. The Taliban favour ambush tactics where they divide a patrol into smaller groups and pick them off. Moving through the village you can see how easy this is – all the houses with there walls and ditches could hide anyone.
I start running forward to get shots looking back at the soldiers. We stop a lot behind walls, in ditches, while the route forward is checked. We have to cross open ground quickly and with a low profile. We see few villagers – it’s too early. Dogs are barking.
We end up in a deep ditch running through some fields on the edge of the village, facing the mountains on the edge of the valley. This is where the Taliban hide and this is exactly where the French had a 3 hour gun battle with them last week. There’s a white house about 300m away where the Taliban were hiding so French and ANA troops move cautiously up to it. I suddenly notice the guy in front of me is a US Marine – where did he come from?
Gradually the tension eases. Maybe it’s too early for the Taliban. With this perimeter secured, we make our way back into the village to film the ANA handing out blankets and medical supplies. It’s a chaotic scene, but friendly and full of humour. I roam around freely and feel no threat at all, albeit knowing there are many French keeping an eye on things. I have tea with some of the ANA soldiers, one of those moments of serenity you have to take and it gives me a chance to catch my breath.
Later that evening we return to our main home for the week, the French base at Nijrab, home to about 700 troops. Nijrab is a Tajik area and as such is relatively peaceful. The base is set up on a plateau surrounded by huge snow capped mountains – it is incredibly beautiful. When this country finds peace it will be a haven for climbing, walking and skiing.
French JTAC – Forward Air Controller – in Afghanistan
Our accommodation in Nijrab was a large overflow tent – very basic and very cold – and we had to share it with soldiers passing through. At night the temperatures dropped well below freezing. My Icebreaker thermals were magic – I wore them day and night for days and they still didn’t smell (or perhaps I got used to the smell?)
Over the next few days we go on more patrols with the Chasseurs Alpins but mostly in the safer Tajik areas. One day we go with the JTAC (Joint Terminal Attack Controller – in other words the man who calls in Air-Strikes), climbing high up the side of the valley the French are operating in to secure the high ground and provide cover. Their guns face both ways, into the valley below and high up into the rocky peaks. The French have been discovering increasing numbers of large arms caches recently. The Taliban are relatively inactive during the winter (it is said they go for winter training across the border in Pakistan) – but everyone is predicting a counter-surge from them following the large increase in US troops numbers. The arms caches being found by the French seem to indicate a spring offensive.
Although the French do not see as much ‘action’ as the Americans and British in Afghanistan, it is worth keeping in mind the enormous public opposition in France (about 80% of the population) to their presence there – which must constrain their activities there. It is a democracy after all.
Luke has just returned from another trip to Afghanistan, this time with BBC Newsnight’s Mark Urban, click here to watch the film from kandahar.
Did you see the Argentina versus Mexico match on Sunday? If so did you spot this short clip of the touchline Steadicam Operator getting smacked by Argentinean goal scorer Gabriel Heinze? Maybe the Cameraman was a bit too close but surely the reaction was unwarranted?
I’m always on the look out for important videos that will help to inform and educate myself and other Cameramen. I felt it was time that I gathered some of the most relevant and interesting in one place for readers of my blog to check out. If you have any others you think should be here then let me know and I’ll post a follow up.
Firstly I wanted to draw attention to the history of our craft. I always imagine that being a frontline Cameraman in World War two must have been even more intense than it is for us today. The battles that much bigger, the chances of being killed that much more. Below is the first clip from a Documentary about the the cameramen of WW2, there exploits and what they saw.
But as we all know, today although the fighting might not be on such a grand scale it can still be intense, nerve wracking and incredibly dangerous. Here is an excellent film by my colleague Robbie Wright that he shot while embedded with the US Marines in Falluja:
The growing problem for all Journalists in todays environment is that we often become a target ourselves, either accidentally or because we are seen as “the enemy”. Below are a number of films that show how quickly we can become targets and how serious this can be. Some of the films are graphic and quite disturbing:
Not all predicaments a cameraman finds him or her self in are life or death. Even in our own countries the Police can turn nasty and arrest you for no reason. The Cameraman below was detained though later the charges were dropped and I understand that the Police Officer was later fired:
And then there are the self inflicted, pointless problems that we sometimes have to face. I still do not understand why the Cameraman in the film below kept following these guys once he had gotten his shots. He was later fired when the footage from a rival network was aired.
And finally the trailer for a film about stills photographer James Nachtwey. An excellent insight into the life and thought process of one of the worlds best known Photojournalists. Enjoy.
I hope these films have given you something to think about. If you have any films that you think I should include in a follow up piece then please comment below.
To view the film we made on this trip to Akobo, follow this link to the BBC website
The UN airstrip in Juba looked identical to every other UN establishment I’d seen in Africa. A maze of blue Porta-cabins protected by a bored contingent of Asian soldiers – this time Bengalis in their distinctively bright green camouflage. We were traveling to the small town of Akobo in Southern Sudan alongside the NGO Save the Children and the UN Resident Humanitarian Co-ordinator, Lise Grande and her team. They were keen to show us the poor humanitarian situation and flag up a potential famine – a new report says 46 percent of children under five are malnourished.
We all piled into the ex-Soviet era Helicopter that had been painted in UN colours and began our long journey. We followed the Nile out of Juba and then headed East toward the Ethiopian border passing low over huge tracts of desolate scrub and dry river beds. It was a boneshaking two-hour flight but I was next to an open window and kept myself entertained by filming and taking photos.
A view from our UN chopper on the way to Akobo
As we came in to land at Akobo’s makeshift landing strip I filmed the ramshackle mud and straw houses that seemed to make up most of the town.
We had a couple of hours on the ground and were told that the Russian chopper crew had instructions to leave without us if we late – something that both myself and Correspondent Andrew Harding doubted they would do. A fleet of four by fours waited for us by the Air-strip and rushed us off to the Hospital to film malnourished children.
Outside the clinic there was a hive of activity with babies being weighed and food being handed out by harried staff. Screaming kids and scared, hungry looking Mums cued up waiting for their turn to take the handful of high energy bars on offer. I grabbed as many shots as I could before being bustled off to film inside with the kids who were considered to be in the worst state.
Inside I filmed a close up as one baby was given milk via a plastic syringe – his body too wasted to keep anything down. Another, called Dwal, had the glazed, sleepy eyes of someone who has given up hope. After gathering a few shots I left, realizing that my presence was disturbing Dwal who began to wail as if in pain every time I tried to film him.
We then rushed off to film the families who had been forced to flee from recent fighting. 2009 had seen a dramatic surge in ethnic conflict and many displaced families had been forced to flee to the town. We found one family living by the river, sheltering under a tree to keep out of the oppressive mid day sun. Despite their problems they seemed relaxed and friendly and didn’t seem remotely put out by our presence. I discovered that the South Sudanese are generally unphased by TV cameras, a fact that made my job much easier.
Traveling on a speedboat to find IDP’s near Akobo
Time was now short. We had a three PM deadline to meet back at the Airstrip. Having to rush in the heat of South Sudan isn’t good and I was beginning to feel very dehydrated. We hooked up with the local Commissioner – Goi Jooyul Yol, a fascinating guy who had been living in the US for many years – he took us to the local Army base and convinced the Colonel in charge to show us all the guns they had confiscated from the local tribesmen to stop them stealing cattle and abducting children from one another. It was an impressive, if slightly rusty, haul. About 400 weapons, mainly Ak-47′s were piled almost to the ceiling in the old and peeling shipping container.
At three PM exactly we emerged from the Army compound and ran over five hundred meters of rugged waste ground to the waiting Chopper. Sweaty and exhausted I downed a bottle of water and a whole packet of glucose biscuits before throwing myself onto the awkward canvas bench in the back of the Helicopter. It had been a tough day both mentally and physically. As the aircraft took off I dozed awkwardly hoping that our film might be able to expose the problems of the region and help to avert a disaster.
To view the film we made on this trip to Akobo, follow this link to the BBC website
On the same trip to South Sudan we also shot an excellent (if I do say so) election preview film. Unfortunately due to the changing situation in the country our film never had the chance to run in the UK. So that the pictures aren’t lost forever I’ve edited some of my favourite sequences together into a short “voice free” film that I hope will give you a small taste of Southern Sudan:
The Photographer of the Year- Darren Durlach, WBFF, Baltimore from Poynter Institute on Vimeo.
I’ve just seen the winning entry for the prestigious US National Press Photographers Award for 2009. Frankly I’m humbled. The winner was Darren Durlach, a Shoot/Edit from a local station in Baltimore (think “The Wire”). Although traditionalists might be tempted to criticize his fast editing style and use of obscure angles I was blown away by it and am just looking forward to an opportunity to try and use some of his ideas.
Making a VOIP call using a Bgan from the roof of the Bureau
It was Christmas night. I crouched close to the fire built by some of the Marines and tried to warm my hands against the cold. We were in Southern Afghanistan, at Forward Operating Base Gibraltar. It had been three days since I’d last showered and I was so cold in my tent at night that it was impossible to sleep. We’d already been ambushed by the Taliban earlier in the day and our report on the incident had lead the News back home in England. Caroline, the Correspondent I was with, wandered over to me. “London just called on the Sat Phone, News Channel would like a live in twenty minutes if we can.” I sighed and picked up my Camera. There were no Broadcast Engineers with us and we’d had to travel light to the base because of limits with how much weight the Helicopters could carry. I’d had just enough space for my Editing laptop and a Bgan. As the fire crackled away behind me I quickly connected my camera, the laptop and the Bgan and within minutes we were live on National TV. It was an atmospheric shot and allowed the public a small insight into life on Christmas day for the soldiers in Afghanistan. Five years ago this wouldn’t have been possible but TV Technology is moving fast and Bgan’s have been one of the biggest catalysts for change the industry has seen in a long time.
Bgan stands for Broadband Global Area Network and, for good or for bad depending on your standpoint, it has revolutionized the way that Newsgatherers operate. The network was set up by Inmarsat and uses three Geo-stationary satellites (in other words they don’t move anywhere). There is one that covers Africa and Europe, one for Australia and the Far-East and another with a footprint over the Americas. Between them they allow users to combine high bandwidth with wide coverage. Essentially it means that you can log onto a broadband internet connection from virtually anywhere in the world, no matter what the local infrastructure is like. The only extra kit you need to achieve this is a laptop computer loaded with the relevant software and a Broadband satellite IP terminal. These come in a number of shapes and designs but are generally about the size of a laptop. At the BBC, and many other international Broadcasters, they use a Hughes 9201 terminal often in conjunction with a Panasonic Toughbook.
Hughes 9201 Bgan Terminal
The Hughes 9201 is a pretty robust piece of kit that can deal with a variety of climates and plenty of rough treatment. You don’t need to be a skilled Technician to use one, common sense and a compass is generally enough. The way it works is fairly straightforward. You take the Bgan and lay it flat with a view of the sky to get a GPS fix –it has to work out where it is in the world before you can do anything else. That should take a couple of minutes but I’ve known it take up to twenty. Next you work out which Satellite you plan on using and manually point the dish in the right direction using a beep tone that gets quicker as the signal gets stronger and a corresponding signal power bar on the side. I am usually happy if four of the green LED lights on the power bar are illuminated – that’s enough to get a pretty good connection. It’s then simply a case of firing up your laptop and working through the Bgan Launchpad software which registers you with the network and allows you to choose your connection speed. The best speeds can often be found while using the basic, and cheapest, standard connection. It depends on how many people are using the network at the same time. I generally use the Standard connection for FTP’ing cut pieces back to London and 256 kb/ps streaming for lives.
BBC Team in Mozambique set up for a live with a Bgan. 2008
For live broadcasting over a Bgan the BBC use a type of conferencing software known as V-point. It allows you to choose how much information to send, set audio levels and receive return sound from the Studio. One issue to be aware of is trying to send video at too high quality – if you are using a 256kb/ps connection via the Bgan then make sure you’re sending less then that from V-point i.e 192kb/ps otherwise you clog the pipe so to speak and the video will freeze.
Once you’ve connected your camera and microphones then it is simply a case of calling your studios I.P address and praying that the call goes through. I’ve experienced many problems at this phase and missed a number of live “hits” due to the equipment deciding not to work. It doesn’t matter how many times you have used the kit or how sure you are that you have done everything correctly, at this stage it is in the hands of the TV Gods as to whether the call goes through or not.
So what are the drawbacks and complications with this technology? As an Operator the biggest drawback is that it is more kit that you are expected to carry – often in dangerous conditions. On a technical level it can have its eccentricities, sometimes the units might not function in extreme heat, fail to get a GPS fix or simply run out of juice while you’re still miles away from a power source. The quality of the transmission is also a big problem, it is very common to see a live broadcast freeze on air if there is too much movement in the background or if the line inexplicably drops.
Despite the problems that have accompanied the use of Bgan for International Newsgathering it’s use will rapidly rise over the next few years as its capabilities increase. Connection speeds are already improving and it is only a matter of time before they are good enough for “Quality” live broadcasts on par with those from the Traditional Satellite Trucks.
As we climbed out of the tiny ten seater aircraft and stepped onto Somali soil I was nervous. We were in territory controlled by the Islamist militia Al Shabab, a group with ties to Al Qaeda and a reputation for beheading those who didn’t agree with them. We were the guests of The World Food Programme who, thanks to their pragmatic approach and willingness to talk with Al Shabab, were still able to operate in the region. Their base was just outside the village of Buale, a surprisingly green and fertile place on the banks of the River Juba. Before we could film anything we had to meet the local Al Shabab Commander – if we started filming without his permission it could mean a death sentence for our team.
With our guards in Somalia. Very nice guys.
We met him in the shade of a small tree, he was a solidly built man with a neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard and a surprisingly benign look on his face. I’d expected someone terrifying, clutching a Kalashnikov and festooned with grenades. He was friendly and made jokes. I liked him, he seemed like a human being. He agreed to let us film the work of WFP but refused to be interviewed himself or allow us to film his men.
We only stayed around Buale for one day. It seemed safe but we did have twelve armed guards with us at all times. They were local guys, clad in black and casually swinging their AK-47’s like umbrellas. I shared one of the Toyota Pick ups with them, bouncing around and filming the country as it sped past. We were meant to overnight in the town of Wajid but we were forced to change our plans when three men were beheaded there that day. Instead we crossed back into Kenya for the night and then in the morning flew to a town in central Somalia called Dusamareb.
Filming from the back of a Pick-Up. Somalia, June 2009.
Dusamareb is a dusty, drought stricken town that is currently home to the Militia group, Ahlu Sunnah. They, like most Somalis, are Sufi Muslims and as such despise the Saudi inspired Wahabism that Al Shabab represent. We arrived on Independence day and the main square was full of flag waving locals. The women wore bright green and yellow Chadors and the men sang the Somali national anthem. It was perfect for TV and I spent twenty minutes roaming the square filming as much as possible.
We interviewed a number of fighters, all of them were very young, some looking no more than fifteen. It struck me that if you are a bored teenager in a poor, starving country what else is there to do but join a local militia? Carrying a Kalashnikov is like a sign of acceptance, a symbol that you have power and are part of a group. In England we join the local football team here they go and shoot people up. I laughed out loud as one baby faced fighter told us with a smirk on his face that he had single handedly killed one hundred and thirty Al Shabab fighters.
Ahmad and his colleagues from Ahlu Sunnah.
They have a saying in Somalia: “It is good to trust, but it is better not to trust.” My team and I had no choice but to trust the Somalis while we were there. They didn’t let us down, I found them friendly and open people, quick to smile and keen to make sure that as their guest I was comfortable. Although I’m not in a rush to return I do now have a more positive opinion of Somalis and once the country is more stable I will be happy to return.
Into Somalia from caparkinson on Vimeo.
“Hay my friend, why are you taking my picture?” I looked up to see the six Congolese soldiers standing over me; they seemed inquisitive rather than angry. I’d been filming Displaced people carrying their belongings along the road that lead north from Goma in the Eastern Congo, people who had left everything except what they could carry on their backs, desperate to avoid the fighting.
A Congolese Family walking into Goma
It was my first day in the Democratic Republic of Congo and I felt relaxed. I wasn’t taking their picture I assured them just filming the road, I smiled and went to walk away only to find myself surrounded. Suddenly the atmosphere changed, the Commander became more agitated, “Show me the picture,” he shouted, his eyes yellow and bulging from the sockets. He was clearly on drugs and unstable. By now B. our French Security advisor and Jack the local Fixer were with me, they told me to do as he said. I cued the tape back ten seconds and showed him what I’d filmed. It was a low angle shot of the road, heavily laden displaced people filled the frame followed by the silhouette of his unit against the sky. If he had concerns about his face being on International TV he needn’t have worried. He still wasn’t appeased. “Give me the tape,” he screamed, spittle flying in all directions. I hesitated unsure what to do. This was the cue the soldiers were looking for and as one they raised their weapons and stepped back menacingly. My calm left me as all the locals who had been watching inquisitively suddenly ran. They’d seen these guys in action before and knew this was a dangerous situation. I glanced at B. and he nodded at me, “lets give him the tape and get out of here,” he whispered. I popped open the tape compartment and pulled out the cassette handing it over as quickly as I could. He snatched it from me still shouting incoherently in a mixture of French and English. Still he wasn’t happy, he had a point to prove and ordered me into one of our Four Wheel Drive vehicles placing three of his heavily armed soldiers on the back seat behind me. He and another of his men jumped into the other vehicle with the rest of my team. We set off back toward Goma. I had no idea what was happening, where we were going or what I should say.
Mount Nyiragongo as seen from Kibati Refugee camp.
I sat in silence as we drove in convoy. I was afraid to look around at the men behind me. I stole glances in the rear view mirror and was annoyed that one of the men wore British style Commando flashes on his shoulder. I’d been embedded with the Royal Marine Commandos in Afghanistan and resented some of the world’s worst soldiers mimicking some of the worlds best.
After about ten minutes the lead vehicle pulled over and B. got out and ran back to me. “Right” he said, “he’s calmed down now but you need to go and apologize to him, explain it’s your first time here and that you are very sorry. He’s taken a bribe from Jack and just wants to keep face by having you apologize.” I nodded; I was still scared and reluctantly climbed out of the vehicle. The Officer stared hard at me as I approached. I put on my best guilty, apologetic face and apprehensively walked over to him. “Hallo Sir, I’m very sorry for filming you. It was a mistake and I’ll make sure not to do it again.” He nodded and dismissed me with a lazy wave of his grubby hand, trying his best to play the gracious monarch. It seemed to do the trick and the atmosphere began to ease. He decided he was happy now but that we should drop him and his unit back where we found them on the road.
On the return journey the meanest looking of the soldiers in my vehicle began to talk to me. He was a big guy and looked menacing in his wrap around black shades. He spoke to me in Portuguese, I replied in Spanish and we had a surreal conversation as he explained he was Angolan and what a beautiful country it was. By the time we had returned to our start point he was my new best friend, enthusiastically shaking my hand and giving me a thumbs up and a smile. It was only after they’d gone I understood why he was so happy. . . Correspondent Orla Guerin had left her rucksack in the back footwell, when she came to collect it her purse and hundreds of dollars were gone. My first day in the DRC had been an eye opener. This was a country without rules, without law and where you could be killed by anyone at anytime. Welcome to hell I thought as I put the camera on my shoulder and headed into Kibati Refugee Camp.
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.
