NEWSLETTER
TRANSFER OF SCA COMMITTEE
Gentlemen
For those members who did not attend the A.G.M. in Raleigh are probably not aware that Tex Golding has resigned as treasurer due to family reasons. I have also been standing in for Andy Verdi for the last 10 months as Chairman due to him undergoing major heart surgery.
This was discussed at great length at the AGM and was decided that now was a good time to transfer the committee to Faslane and to get more serving members involved in the running of the Association.
The forming of the new committee is being undertaken by Andy Gillon and will be promulgated in the newsletter so that the whole association may vote on its members. Both Andy and Tex have been founder members of the committee since the Association was formed in 1993 and on behalf of every member I would like to thank them both for the tremendous amount of work and enthusiasm they put into their respective positions.
Regards
Sterling
As promised in last issue here is the Second instalment of The Desert Coxswain John Adams exploits.
“Afghanistan”
“A Submariners Dit Part 2”
Having eventually reached Afghanistan the first thing that hits you is the temperature and the dust/sand storms. At that particular time of year (March) it was pretty damn warm to say the least, even though we were expecting the temperature to rise significantly during our tour in the forthcoming months - we were not to be disappointed. The second thing that hits you are the fly’s – there are shit loads of them! During my tour the tempreture rose to 58 degrees Celsius at one stage. Shit if you were out on Ops, but great if you managed to get some rays in, or as the Army calls it, OP Bronze – an Op that I WAS undoubtedly the best at and boy did I looook good!
Our first week in Afghanistan consisted of amongst other things acclimatising to the temperature. Walking around in the heat in Camp Bastion or going for a run in the evening was fraught with danger. You always had to ensure that you had taken enough water onboard to re-hydrate yourself whilst you exercised, or merely went for a walk to think about your family and to break the boredom of the evenings.
Upon finishing our week of training at Camp Bastion, I headed off to Lash - kar – Gar (commonly referred to as Lash Vegas – due to the luxurious nature of this Camp – it even had flavoured milk shakes!!) in the Southern Helmand province to take over the position of the MSST Sgt Major. To be quite honest it was certainly not a task that was to throw up very many challenges, well not for a Submariner Coxswain anyway, which really pissed off some Army guy’s – ha ha!
During my month at Lash, I met some brilliant people who would always find time to sit down and have time for a Coffee and were intrigued as to why a Submariner was in the Desert. Needless to say I had hours of fun poking fun at the Army and RAF personnel, stating that “this bloody War was taking so long that they had now enlisted the Senior Service to sort it out and the simple solution would be to sit down with the Taliban over a cup of tea (Chai) or better if they actually drank beer, and to square away any snags that they might have!” Doesn’t everything get sorted out over a cup of tea or a beer?? One funny incident did happen to me whilst I was there and earned me the nickname of “The Schmooly (large handheld flare) King”, one that the Lads and Girl’s hee - hawed about for ages. It happened one night when I was on “Stag” duty ( Sanger/ Guard Duty) and we had been briefed by the Guard Commander that the Alert level had been raised due to the insurgent activity in the Bazaar and town area.
I had been on watch for about an hour when I noticed “suspicious activity” on a tree line around 200 – 300 metres from my tower. I raised my night vision goggles and identified what I believed were two people acting suspiciously by moving in and out of said tree line. Mmmm I thought to myself what are they doing? I then observed the two then become four (and no – I had NOT been drinking!) oh oh I said to myself they are getting closer and looked like the were conducting fire and manoeuvre tactics on my position. At this stage my adrenalin was beginning to pump and I was beginning to think about the headlines back home on the daily rags,“ SUBMARINER- saves Camp from insurgent attack.”
I leant over my GPMG (General Purpose Machine Gun) getting ready to off the safety catch and blow them away, when I thought “Why don’t I light the place up a bit and THEN lay down some rounds on them” Well that’s exactly what I did and with a Whoosh and a BANG and a Blinding light (it would have been the envy of any FOST Chief Stoker!) I had lit the whole area up (including the Camp!). I then managed to identify my insurgents as they ran off into the darkness, yelping and barking with their tails between their legs – Yes- you have guessed, THEY(the so called insurgents) turned out to be a couple of Twatting great Aghan Mutts out for a piss!
“Shit” thought I, as the Sanger phone rang. I picked up said phone and answered in a telephone manner that would have got me the Captains PA job, “Good Evening, England Sanger, Coxswain speaking, how may I help you?. To which I got the reply, “ Did you just let that Schmooly off Sir”? “Of course I replied. I have defeated and frightened off the Afghan insurgent, well more the Afghan dogs that were loitering round my Sanger – Sorry!”
“Well Sir”, say’s the voice at the end of the phone, “YOU have just put the whole camp on high alert by not asking for permission FIRST to fire THAT bloody Schmooly – well done You for chasing off the dogs of War!!!”
I gathered then that I was none to popular with the Guard Commander, never mind the Brigade Commander. With heavy heart, I then watched my visions of being at Buck Palace being presented with my Award for Gallantry in the face of the enemy going RIGHT out the window (or more to the point – the Sanger firing slit), Bollocks, never mind John, maybe some other time. I can honestly say that they never asked me to cover another Sanger duty after that, “Mmmm.. I wonder why?”
I soon found myself looking for other challenges (not Sanger related) regarding the MSST Organisation and doing the Job “on the ground”.
My OC at Lash (Maj Reed RE) was by far the grumpiest guy that I had come across when I joined the Unit at Lash. His idea of saying “Good Morning”, was to grunt in your general direction although I soon found out that he was not such a bad guy for a Pongo and an Engineer to boot!
I believe that he was just as frustrated at his role as I was and wanted a challenge, Certainly as an ex- RSM, he was clearly used to getting his own way and by the way that a few of the personnel at Lash crossed him he vented his spleen at them, Yip and I was one of them. We had a clash of tempers more than once which definently made him think “This Office is not big enough for the two of us”. So off I went to Nad - E – Ali. I was posted to this lively little Patrol Base called, “ARGYLL” as the Team 2i/c that were there in support of the Battle Group (Welsh Guards). This is, - whereby all accounts, I would have more than enough work and challenges to keep me occupied for the rest of the tour?
During my time at Nad, I found myself conducting day to day meetings with the locals and sorting out all sorts of problems ranging from Livestock being killed by friendly fire – to paying out compensation to locals who had been injured during contacts or had lost crops due to the “Vikings” (Small armoured personnel carriers) trashing their fields as they went “off road” to avoid roadside IED’s. I much preferred to pay out for damage rather than hear the lads had taken a hit.
I have fond memories of “PB ARGYLL” and the people that were there. We (the team), would have a Coffee in the morning with the STABAD (Stabilisation Advisor) and work out our plan for the day and forthcoming week in case there were any curved balls coming our way. I must admit that a lot of the stuff that we dealt with was by thinking on your feet at the time, whether it was within the Base or whether you were out on Patrol.
Our team had an Interpreter allocated to our cause called Hammadullah “Hammy” for short. We struck up an immediate rapport and he would help me with my Afghan pronunciation and new words that I had learned, and I would help him with his new words like “Baw Bag” and “Heed the Baw”. Well he loved the Scottish Accent – I just couldn’t resist!
His command of the English Language was second to none in the PB as an Interpreter. This was much to the annoyance of a Senior Terp, who shall remain nameless but needless to say he was not a happy bunny when I constantly used Hammy during “Shura’s” rather than himself. This individual I personally wouldn’t have trusted as far as I could have thrown him, which would have been quite far, considering his stature – or lack of!
Anyway, myself and Hammy spent a lot of time together sorting out all sorts of problems regarding the Local Afghan Community and some others too. He was always ready to help no matter what time of day or night it was. We had to deal with any Afghan people who turned up looking for help - albeit some of them were definitely sus regarding their reasons for being there. Hammy would take one look at them and whisper to me, “ John –this guy is Talib”. It was amazing the brass neck on these people, asking for your help, yet the next minute he would quite happily slit your throat or lay a roadside bomb for your Oppo’s – Bastard’s!
Eventually we left PB ARGYLL for our new “Home” F.O.B SHAWQAT. (Forward Operating Base). This was an old fort that had been built at the turn of the 19th Century. It had remained dis-used until this point as it basically was only the remnants of a few walls that gave away the fact that it was once a Fort!
The Engineers (33 Squadron) worked their proverbial bollocks off and turned this place into our new place of work. It was amazing to watch as every day something new was completed or new ground foundations were laid for further development. I really did take my hat off to these guy’s as they worked long hours and really never got any praise for the work that they did, at times under fire from the local bad guy’s!
A couple of the Engineers I got to know really well, one of them being their OC – Maj Andy Hannah. What a Gentleman this guy was, I had the utmost respect for this guy. He would turn up with the lad’s and put in a shift with them whilst he was visiting the PB. A Sapper called Jones, who was probably one of the funniest guy’s I have ever met. He would not let anything get him down (bit like myself really – possibly why we hit it off!). He would be constantly on the go, either driving plant (Heavy Machinery) or would be just as happy digging in with his shovel an absolute character and a joy to work with!
Once we had moved in to our luxurious new accommodation, I went on my travels to find any items that were not nailed down! My name as “The Borrower” grew as certain luxury items started to turn up in our tent, such as two “nearly new” settees. I “Borrowed” these from the STABAD (cheers or should it be unlucky- Jim Haggarty) as they would not fit into his new (single accommodation) port-a-cabin (Lucky Twat –he could carry out 24 hour daily user checks on himself and never get caught!)
We had a BBQ built around the back of the tent and had more rations than you could shake a hairy stick at. This was due to having to share a tent with the Police Mentoring Team. They had so much kit it was unbelievable – they even had a de-humidifier machine?? Where they got that from I will never know!
Our little home was beginning to take shape. We (I), “Borrowed” four empty Javelin (Shoulder Launched Missile) Cases for seating outside the tent. It was at this stage the Engineers were beginning to catch on about not leaving anything loafing. The “Chippys” were beavering away building new outside “Cludges” (Heads) when they went for a “T” break. Only to return and find the wood, well some of it anyway was being re-invented as a coffee table for our grot! Ha Ha!
We managed by some strange turn of fate to blag a Fridge Freezer, which in the current climate was worth its weight in gold. We could cool our bottles of water or even freeze our bladders from our re-hydration units before carrying out a Patrol or going for a Shura (meeting) outside of the Camp.
The Fridge Freezer at this time came into its own. The Chefs from Bastion had turned up to help the morale effort by cooking us scoff (scran) for the first week of our move into our new abode.
Unfortunately the electrics to the chill cons kept going down and the Head Cooky Boy, decided that they would have to ditch all the meat etc, that was inside said chill cons!
Having heard this, I went into overdrive, or more to the point, best grovelling mode!
I managed to blag, Sides of Sirloin, Lamb Roasts, Mince, Chicken Breasts and shed loads of Yoghurts and Cheesecake – Yum Yum; It was time to put my culinary skills to the test!
Needless to say we lived like Kings for the next couple of weeks, it WAS GREAT!
I managed to turn out; Lamb Curry, Chilli, Spag- Bol and Chicken Casserole over this period - amongst other dishes.
I would “Borrow” a 10 man rat pack and utilise the majority of it. We had an endless stream of guests for weeks - which was absolutely brilliant – morale was never a problem with our tent but it went thru the roof during this time!
I suppose along with the good times, came the bad times and that was when we had casualties coming into the camp. I offered my assistance to the Med Centre as a First Aider and was promptly told that I was part of the Triage Team – not a nice job believe me!
My heart sank one afternoon as we heard the call go out for the Triage Team and all Medics to report to the Med Centre. I swiftly headed off only to be confronted by an Afghan Local clutching the Lifeless body of his five or six year old Son. It was heartbreaking as at that time my own Son was six years old and I could not imagine what this Father was going through at this time - yet more was to come that day!
More members of the family arrived with varying degrees of wounds, shrapnel injuries being the majority of them sustained from an RPG attack on the FOB that day.
I watched with a sad heart as a relative brought a baby in and headed straight into the Med Centre, closely followed by a Local that I believe must have been the child’s Father. He was followed closely by other relatives who waited outside, including a Female. I watched as members of the Family placed her into the rear of a vehicle outside the Med Centre.
The Father re-appeared and approached the vehicle and spoke to the Female in the rear, giving her the bad news that the baby had died. It was at this time I heard a noise that ripped my heart out and will live with me forever. The mother of the dead baby, on hearing the sad news that her baby had died, had let out such a wail that I don’t think that there was a dry eye in the Camp. It was heart wrenching and brought tears to my eyes- God rest its little soul.
Along with trying to help the Afghan People, we still had to repatriate our own dead. I, along with everyone else that wasn’t on watch would hold a ceremony for the loss. It was hard at times, especially as I had spoken to and had known some of the young lads since our Pre-deployment training in the UK. These were hard times indeed!
On a brighter note, I was once privileged to accompany the Ghurka’s to a Village called Zarghun Kalay.(These Guy’s COULD cook a Curry!) We travelled to the Old School for a recce on a water pump that was broken and hopefully, a couple of Engineers that accompanied our merry band of travellers would fix it for the occupying Afghan Police who were in – situ.
I noticed the Ghurka Sergeant on top of the School house roof (it had been blown up by the Taliban and the Head Teacher murdered) and decided to join him. We both admired the view from the rooftop and started to discuss how and if indeed when we (ISAF) were going to rebuild within this particular area.
It was at this time I noticed a couple of Locals giving us a good looking over, Starting to feel just a little exposed, I took one last look at the older of the two and decided to leave my rather precarious position, I wondered would I ever see this place again… fate plays a strange part in a persons life!
Having returned safely to our Camp, I mentioned in passing my strange feeling that I had when I looked at the Older Gentleman at Zarghun Kalay. My team mates – Ayshae (Female RAF Sgt) and Steve (Wo2 RE) both dismissed it as “just nerves”, but I knew then that I would see this guy again - and I did!
A few days later the Older Gentlemen came down from Zarghun Kalay along with a representation of other Elders to discuss why the Vikings had trashed their crops – again!
I sat down with them and immediately recognised him, Whoa .. I said to myself this is weird! He obviously had recognised me too, although god knows how as I had my Body Armour on, Helmet, and an assortment of weapons that would have made Rambo look like an Amateur!
Anyway, we then got into a conversation regarding the way ahead and sorting out this problem. We have to remember that the Afghan people spend hours in the blazing sun tending to their crops, for very little return at a market and our Glorious troops had just taken away their livelihood for the following year!
I persevered with a solution and eventually everyone was happy, well ish!
I thanked them for their time and their kind words, apart from one whom I later learned was a Taliban sympathiser, he had started to get quite irate when he realised that during a lull in our negotiations he remarked that if ISAF went home then the locals and indeed Afghanistan would be far better off.
I retorted with a few home truths for him, mentioning that in the UK, we don’t bomb our Schools or murder our Teachers in the name of freedom. We neither asked our children to wear suicide vests and to kill innocent women and Children, once again in the name of Freedom. Realising that I was maybe starting to get into a political argument I told all of them that politics were best left to the politicians and the fighting to the Soldiers. All agreed with the exception of this individual- funny old thing that!
Whilst the delegations were waiting for a “compensatory” payment to placate the crowd that had now gathered outside, I caught the Older Gentlemen looking at me again. My mind immediately raced, did we search him before he came into the Camp? This task was left to the Afghan Security on the gates and at times they were rather lax in this task to say the least.
I thought, “Shit- what if he is a Suicide Bomber – and he has a pack of C4 under his Dish – dash” (Afghan male attire) but my thoughts were quickly dispersed as he, now on his own, asked my Terp if he could speak to me personally at a later date regarding some information he had on the Taliban.
I quickly agreed to this, although exercising caution at the same time – we set a date and time to meet again.
True to his word, he arrived at the set day and allotted time. We quickly exchanged pleasantries and I offered him a “Miranda” (Orange fizzy juice, a little like tango – the locals loved it as did I) He started off by saying that he would only talk to me regarding his information and for that I thanked him. Any information could not only save the life’s of our guy’s but the lives of the Afghan people, especially their children and as we will all agree, Children are the foundations for our future!
I was glad that HE agreed and I then set about getting as much information as I could from this Gentleman without putting any pressure on him.
The information that he parted with was invaluable. He gave me positions of roadside IED’s, names of Insurgents and the crème de la crème, a name and address of a Taliban Bomb maker – I thought that I had won the Lottery!
After a few hours of talking we parted ways with him promising to come back when he had further information. This he did on a few occasions. By now the information had reached the proper people and “a couple of Special People” came to speak to him and put his information to good use!
Personally, I was really proud of myself that I had hopefully contributed to stopping the possible deaths of our guys as well as possibly some Afghan lives, especially the Children.
Captain Lindow (Matt) was really chuffed when I told him what had been happening as he at this time had been out on the ground for a fair period of time. Matt was the most hands on guy you could ever meet – he always had time for you or any problems that may have arisen in his absence that I couldn’t deal with at my level- he would just say, “Lets have a Coffee and THEN we will sort it out! He mentioned this up to our Chain of Command but, needless to say they never mentioned anything to either myself or Matt. Guess it was just another day’s work!
My Commanding Officer by this point was an ex SF Officer. I briefed him what had been happening regarding the collection and passing on of this vital information and he replied to me, “ Do you know Sarnt Major ( I loved that Title!) – I know some people WHO would JUST LOVE to pay these guy’s a little visit in the middle of the night” I guessed that he wasn’t talking about someone coming to check the Leccy meter!!!
He was most thankful about the info I had gathered and said, “lets hope that it will save the lives of all those who deserve to live”. I took it from that he wasn’t talking about the guy’s who were laying the roadside IED’s or taking pot shots at us every other day. In the mornings we would occasionally hear a loud bang and immediately look at our watches thinking, “I don’t think that any of our lads should be out yet and no-one is due in”. We would then find out at the morning brief that a couple of the old Taliban had gone to meet Allah a little quicker than they had anticipated as the bomb that they were laying had accidentally gone off – unlucky them!
One other task that I “volunteered” for was to drive the Fork Lifts around the Camp. This had come around as the Welsh Guards were short of drivers and personnel to help around the Camp, they kept asking the support Company but no-one would come forward – step forward the SENIOR SERVICE and “LEAD FROM THE FRONT”.
My “Task” was to collect the gash cages also the “pooh” cage and take them outside the Camp to a burns area that had been specially prepared for this particular Task!
Myself and my “body guard” – who was on a quad bike, basically if anything fell off out of the cages he would then pick it up and throw into the trailer of his quad and it would be burnt along with the rest of the rubbish.
On this particular Friday morning we had taken the “pooh” bags across to the burns pit and I had just dumped them when I noticed two motorcyclists approaching us from the eastern corner. I immediately sensed the worst as we had received reports of motorcycle suicide bombers in the AO.(Area Of Operations)
I shouted for my wingman to get behind the Fork Lift and I raised my Rifle (which is always made ready when you leave Camp) and took aim, waiting for their next move! (maybe I would make the Local Rags back Home!)
They immediately threw their arms in the air screaming “ No Taliban – No Taliban” The guards on the gate came rushing out and spoke to them and one of the Guards approached me and spoke to me in broken English that they were “No Taliban – just looking through the rubbish”. Mmm.. even I guessed that one guys!!
I allowed them to look through the rubbish after the guard had searched them for any explosives or weapons and watched intrigued as they looked at our “Silver baco – boil- Pooh bag’s”.
My wingman said to me at that moment “Sir – what are they going to do with those?”
I laughed and replied, “Fkd if I know” – (knowing full well WHAT they were going to use them for.) The tears were now streaming down my face as they loaded up these “Gizzit” bags with treasure that had been thrown out by the lads, which ranged from bags of boiled sweets and tissues, to old boots and disused socks and under crackers!
They were laughing and joking about all this “loot” and kept thanking us until they couldn’t get any more under their arms without affecting the safety of driving their respective Motor Cycles. With a final nod, because they couldn’t wave their hands, they set off!
I waited a few minutes as they drove along and shouted in my best Afghan to the Guard, that the “Loot” bags were in fact “Pooh” bags. He quickly informed the two gentlemen concerned which in short order ended up with the bags being strewn all over the dirt track and the two of them howling abuse in our direction! I have never laughed so hard in all my life – it was hurting my ribs!
Another “Funny” that happened during my stay was to “Train up” the new OC MSST (Military Support and Stabilisation Team) on how to drive a quad bike, but that can wait for another edition!
Well as all things come to an end, so did my tour of Afghanistan. We left Nad – E – Ali and headed off for Bastion and an onward flight to Kandahar before getting to Cyprus for “De-Compression” (that’s another story for all golfers!) and then Onward to the UK.
It was with a sad heart that I left behind so many good friends, but just as much as we have parted ways, we have remained in touch since, either through e-mail or just by having a few words on the telephone.
Since my training began with the CIMIC Group until we deployed and then returned as a Unit, I thank God every day that we all returned safely. Some of my friends were posted into far more dangerous Areas Of Operations than I was and after hearing their stories I’m glad that MY tour passed by quickly and without Major Incident, in my eyes anyway it was pretty uneventful.
Andy Gillon asked me to write a “Dit” on what I did “Out There” and the “Dit” that you have just read only really covers some of it. What I have learned is that a lot of people take things for granted, I for one will never do that again. I have felt humbled by some of the sights that I witnessed in Afghanistan.
The “young” boys and Girls who constantly put their lives on the line every day for a pittance. The way that they are “expected” just to get on with the job, when they are physically exhausted and mentally tired. Not once did I ever hear one of them complain to their Seniors when the word came in that “it was time to go again”.
These youngsters, and they are – compared to myself anyway, are worth their weight in gold and THAT is why we (ISAF) will eventually win this war!
Your’s Aye,
John Adam
CPO COXSWAIN(SM).
A point brought up by Geoff Marshall
Referring to the article in the December issue stating HMS Trafalgar was the first British submarine to circumnavigate the globe.
I am checking this Authenticity and will report in the next issue.
Up and coming Birthdays
August
D.A. Maltby 09 August 1935
R.S. Colborne 22 August 1946
C. Thomas 24 August 1963
P. Sheekey 24 August 1976
T. Hughes 25 August 1962
N.B. Young 27 August 1928
A.R. Boyling 27 August 1935
R. Brand 28 August 1947
September
K.B.D. Jenkins 04 September 1948
D.J. Howell 11 September 1955
D. Wilson 17 September 1931
B.F. Moss 26 September 1945
A.G. Braithwaite 29 September 1946
October
L.E.J. Manning 02 October 1960
S.G. Henry-Roscoe 03 October 1937
M. Gudgeon 03 October 1957
D. Miles 08 October 1929
A.J. Verdi 14 October 1940
A. Gillon 14 October 1969
A. Rainey 16 October 1960
A. Jeffrey 16 October 1961
T. Higgens 18 October 1944
R.W. Sibbald 29 October 1949
J.D. Morton 31 October 1954
If any member who wishes to put himself up as a volunteer for any of the above positions especially the blank positions please return this form to Sterling with your proposer and seconder please.
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RESELECTION |
NEW CANDIDATE |
PROPOSER |
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CHAIRMAN |
Mike Southward |
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TREASURER From Feb 11 |
Steve Rafferty |
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Andy Gillon |
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SECRETARY |
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ARCHIVIST |
John Hendren |
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ARTEFACTS |
Fred Flint |
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SOCIAL SEC |
Paul Mitchell |
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WEBMASTER |
Barry Jenkins |
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WELFARE(S) |
Steve Whitby |
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WELFARE(N) |
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COMMITTEE(S) |
Joe Shields |
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COMMITTEE(S) |
Dave Howell |
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COMMITTEE(W) |
Vic Cavell |
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COMMITTEE(N) |
Iain Mackenzie |
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COMMITTEE(N) |
John Adam |
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