Warrior Brothers (22 page)

Finally, we received our command to head back down the mountain and join the squadron. It was great to catch up with the boys and to hear their experiences first-hand. The men of that isolated patrol had performed exceptionally well.
Some handled the situation better than others, but all deserved to be proud of their efforts. These men would later be enveloped in a wave of controversy, very disappointingly, due to a dispute within the patrol. The men were courageous but there are many fogs to war.

The end of our tour of Afghanistan arrived with an overwhelming sense of futility. How best could we think about our role there and what we'd achieved when it felt like such a drop in the ocean? Our trip was eventful, but what did it all mean? I had no time to reflect. Within three weeks I was out of the green machine and off again, this time to the United Arab Emirates for a three-month trial. My family held on for what was supposed to be one final trip away.

Then came Iraq.

I accepted a short-term contract in Iraq while on a four-week break from a position as a special operations adviser in the United Arab Emirates, where I had moved with my family. It was some 18 months after my extended time in Afghanistan, and it would be reasonable to say that in the UAE I was feeling unfulfilled. It was essentially a training role and I missed the rush of operations. Iraq was immediately tempting – from the perspective of my sense of sanity and my professional satisfaction. The chance to be properly challenged and to perform to my limits in one of the most unforgiving environments in the world seemed too good to pass up.

Every morning in the UAE was the same and it reminded me of servicing vans in my father's workshop. I would try to gee myself up for another six hours in the office but each day it became increasingly difficult. Some people enjoy days of nothing – good for them – but there were weeks where we ran fewer than three hours of training because of our trainees' endless supply of creative excuses. So each week I had 32 hours to dream of being somewhere else.

At the end of each day I would walk in the front door, pulling at my hair and muttering, ‘I can't do this shit any more.' And after another six months my wife couldn't stand it either and gave me the green light to go to Iraq for a
seven-day contract to see if I liked it. The seven days expanded somewhat. My first task was a reconstruction project in the brutal Anbar province. It would be more than four long months before I was reunited with my family.

Like a hungry lion, Anbar never sleeps. The roaming, snarling, roaring and devouring insurgents there could not be caged or discouraged. From Fallujah to Ramadi, from Hit to Haditha, this area of Iraq had sharp teeth. Since the war began, many US soldiers have lost their lives in Anbar. The lion's appetite was never satisfied and with every new victim its confidence and hunger only increased.

Without the support of the local population for an international presence, the situation in Anbar was always going to degenerate into an endless bloodbath, with a contingent of security contractors and engineers stuck in the middle. During a midnight departure from Alasad Airbase, a US marine bailed us up, incredulous. ‘What in the hell are you guys doing? No-one goes out into the jungle at night – not even us!' US tactics soon changed – trying to stay one step ahead of the roadside bombs became everyone's highest priority.

The environment was extreme and unpredictable. Every day became more dangerous and stressful than the next. One of my greatest challenges was to mould a group of security contractors (former soldiers from the United Kingdom, America, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa) into a well-drilled, formidable force. It took a while but we got there, courtesy of some exceptional former soldiers and hours upon hours of hard work.

Running the gauntlet in non-armoured vehicles while attempting to dodge roadside bombs on Highway Twelve, a 100-kilometre stretch of road leading to Haditha Dam, was by far the most dangerous work I had been involved in. And it wasn't just the external conditions that made life difficult. Private security contracting had one significant disadvantage
when compared with being part of the official military machine – there were some individuals involved who were just not cut out for this line of work.

After all I had learnt about the importance of surrounding yourself with people you can quite literally trust with your life, the repercussions of this were painfully obvious. Leaving the Regiment for private enterprise had not been an easy decision to make, but it was the right one. But unfortunately, some of the cowboys in Iraq were a cause for concern. Where was their sense of pride in their work? Where was their determination to be the best they could be? I knew I was a bit demented in that department, but as I faced some of the greatest threats of my career, I found some of their attitudes deeply disturbing.

Why had I left the Regiment that I loved so much? How had I wound up in Iraq as a security contractor rather than in service, working with soldiers I respected and could trust? It was a decision that had come about in two stages.

It's the nature of the job that your tide of emotion is always high and hard to keep in check. After many deployments in countries as diverse as Afghanistan and East Timor, I chose to leave the Regiment in December 2002 in order to spend more time with my family. My youngest daughter, Sian, was 17 months old and I had spent only 10 weeks in her life. It was time to make some changes.

Moving to the United Arab Emirates seemed like a way to continue the work I enjoyed in a context where I could spend plenty of time with my family. But my banal occupation drove me insane. Although getting back into the SAS was an option, I wanted to remain in control of my life. This was even more important for my wife. We knew that in the private sector we had an element of control. When we decided that enough was enough, I could resign on the spot. I could also choose where I wanted to work, for how long and on what task. Iraq, Afghanistan, Indonesia, Africa … there were, and still are, many opportunities for guys with my skill-set.

As it panned out, I went to Iraq for the challenge of trying to operate in one of the most hostile operational theatres in the world. It wasn't about the money, as I am not motivated by
dollars. I'm driven to perform outside my comfort zone. I love to be tested, and running operations in Iraq was a difficult challenge. I wanted to prove to myself that I had the stomach for such an environment, even though I was there of my own accord.

I'm fortunate to have probably the most understanding wife in the world. My goals and challenges, and my obsessive drive to conquer them, must be an incredible hardship for her to endure. However, when things become too crazy she does pull me back into line. This was why, when I accepted a position in Iraq, Colleen didn't push me to spend a designated amount of time at home each year. Instead, she opted for a maximum number of days in the country. Her advice was simple, but showed how deeply she knows and understands me: ‘Okay, you miss the rush of operations. Please go and get it out of your system. I know you'll give it everything you have. I'll be able to cope for 12 months. It's just 365 days. Whether you do long or short trips is up to you.'

How could coming home to a more normal life, where my family was not dreading ‘that' phone call, require any thought at all? Having my children look me in the eye and beg to be able to come with me during the heart-wrenching goodbyes at the airport was soul-destroying. I would approach the departure terminal and, with one final look over my shoulder, witness a horrible scene – three children with outstretched arms and tear-filled eyes. A stronger man would have got back in the car and resigned on the spot, but an addict just takes a deep breath before turning his back and disappearing into the terminal.

And it had become an addiction: I struggled to let it go. I would return to my family after a deployment and attempt to lessen its grip, but the serpent of adrenaline coiled tighter and tighter around me. As good as the drug was, deep down I knew I had to find my rushes closer to home.

From our current standpoint in history one could argue that the Iraq War was not only illegal and unjust, but a crime against humanity. From a military perspective, however, the initial invasion of Iraq was a tremendous success. The Iraqi forces were rapidly subdued and coalition casualties were low. The United States was demonstrating its unequalled capability to concurrently project and sustain its forces in several theatres of conflict around the world. The US Secretary of Defense at the time, Donald Rumsfeld, must have been confident with the initial progress of the Iraq campaign, but he and his team of strategic planners did not envisage the turmoil that would ensue. Iraq is now a highly unstable nation and the sectarian violence within its borders may well erupt into mass genocide.

Iraq does, of course, have many historical precedents. Soldiers the world over have been deployed abroad on waves of nationalistic fervour in support of questionable causes. But regardless of the rights and wrongs, soldiers on all sides have to engage with the same level of intensity in a campaign based on lies and deception as in an operation of unquestionable morals and principles.

Unless one's country is being invaded, a soldier's loyalty is, first and foremost, to his mates. A patriotic duty to one's country is commendable, and everyone is aware of the larger
picture, but this is not what holds soldiers together during battle. This could be the one aspect of war that Hollywood gets right, despite its excessive glorification of battle. Even Forrest Gump was aware of it! In the reality of war, it is the camaraderie and not wanting to let your mates down that motivates a soldier to fight. To be regarded by your mates as a soldier who is ‘suspect' under fire would be a heavy burden to carry. Soldiers may, at times, be political pawns, but as far as they are concerned they are a team: not necessarily a team that always agrees wholeheartedly with their government, but a family of brothers who look after one another – no matter what is asked of them.

Iraq was and is a country desperately in need of help, particularly in the rebuilding of its shattered infrastructure. In past conflicts, military personnel were primarily responsible for reconstruction or rebuilding projects, but this was a tremendous drain on military assets. Troops known as ‘static security' remained at a fixed location and could not be utilised for mobile tasks. If a power station needed to be rebuilt then military engineers would be employed, supported and protected by combat units, which would severely hamper efforts to carry out offensive or security operations.

This still occurs, especially for the security of military bases and airfields, but the majority of reconstruction in Iraq is now carried out by private companies that source their own security personnel. These security contractors are a vital component of the fledgling rebuilding process. Their presence allows a greater proportion of military assets to be utilised in the war's offensive effort.

World politics aside, handing the reconstruction efforts over to civilians creates a lot of problems, not least the arming of thousands of private security contractors to protect civilian engineers. The number of security contractors employed in Iraq reached a peak of approximately 20,000
during 2004. This was the second-largest force in the country, behind America's troop contribution.

And therein lay the problem. Some contractors hailed from special forces or highly competent infantry backgrounds. Unfortunately, and quite worryingly, there were thousands who did not. Although security companies rigorously vetted their employees, there was such an incredible demand for armed security personnel that thousands of men who did not have sufficient experience to perform such hazardous work made their way to Iraq. These guys were now ‘armed and dangerous'. Some were mentally unstable, grossly overweight, poorly skilled or all of the above. The vast majority of these men were weeded out as the industry began to scale back and become more competitive. In 2004, however, it was mostly a matter of making do with the men you had, but there was no love lost when many of these guys could no longer find employment. Iraq was not the place to send poorly trained former soldiers to be babysat.

One guy I came across claimed to be a former soldier but was eventually identified as never having fired a weapon before. He had actually made it into Iraq but was found wanting during the first live-fire range practice. An ape would have looked more comfortable holding a weapon than this guy.

A trained soldier grasps a weapon by the pistol grip and has his trigger finger extended along the outside of the trigger guard, unless he is about to fire the weapon. The other hand gently supports the weapon in a balanced position. What this pretender was doing looked very wrong. He held the weapon well away from his body, like he had been told it carried an infectious disease. Instead of grasping the rifle by the pistol grip, he actually strangled the upper receiver at the top of the weapon, making it near-on impossible to fire. The other hand clenched the tip of the barrel near the flash suppressor. This isn't the most effective way to
become an accomplished marksman, but may be a good way to lose a finger.

When it came time to firing the weapon, he didn't even place the rifle in his shoulder and take aim. He was laughable. He fired from the hip, violently pulling on the trigger rather than applying a gentle squeeze. In truth, it was far from a jovial matter. When this man was confronted about his lack of skills, he laughingly stated: ‘Yeah – I lied on the CV and managed to get into Iraq. You can't blame a guy for trying.'

Another man I heard about told the operations staff that he didn't want to deploy to Baghdad as it was too dangerous. This guy made it clear that he would prefer to stay down south where things were more peaceful. For reasons that still elude me, he wasn't thrown straight on the next plane home but was instead sent straight to Baghdad.

At the time, our Baghdad teams were required to deploy anywhere from Mosul in the north to Musayyib, a volatile area 56 kilometres south of Baghdad. My gut instinct told me that this soldier's lack of fortitude was a bad sign, but the decision wasn't mine. I decided that perhaps he deserved the benefit of the doubt. That was until we spent some time on the range. We were rehearsing vehicle contact scenarios, where a consultant has to exit his vehicle, take a firing position and shoot several targets. We would often number the targets from 1 to 20 and randomly call out three numbers. The contractors had to engage the targets in this order, to prepare them for a crowd environment where target selection and recognition is critical.

During the dry practice scenarios, safety catches remain fixed and no-one is to fire their weapon. On three occasions this suspect soldier pointed his weapon directly at my chest when he exited the car. He had no awareness of safety. I counselled him before we advanced onto the live-fire practice, and I positioned myself directly behind him so I could control him if he got a little wayward with his weapon.

I failed. This guy exited the car and disengaged his safety catch before he had established a firing position. He then fired a three-round burst from the hip. The first round entered the engine bay above the wheel and the next two bullets penetrated the bonnet. Mr Incompetent was quickly unloaded and removed from the range.

On the return drive from Baghdad to Kuwait, he lay down on the back seat and went to sleep. When he was asked to concentrate, for safety's sake, all he had to offer was, ‘Fuck that, I'm over this shit.' This pretender then had the nerve to argue with Kuwaiti Ops that he should remain employed on the tasks down south. When I was asked for a third explanation as to why this guy should be sacked, I exploded and resigned. After the dust had settled the questionable consultant was sent home and we carried on with business.

During another range practice, one consultant was having some difficulty hitting an A4-size target at a range of 25 metres. As the consultant was in the prone position – lying down – and the weapon had a bipod, just how the operator could miss the paper with every one of 30 rounds perplexed me.
Surely the weapon must have a bent foresight
, I thought.

I asked my mate Joe, an exceptional marksman, to have a try. He picked up the weapon, moved back to 40 metres, loaded a fresh 30-round magazine and, while standing up, calmly put 30 holes in the target. We attempted to coach the troubled individual but soon realised that there was little point. He was so frightened of firing the weapon that he was snatching the trigger with such intensity that his rounds would miss the target by more than a metre. Considering the short range, and that no-one was actually shooting back, this was quite a cause for concern. He was a lovely guy, but in Iraq, what does lovely mean? He was a liability, so he had to go.

Sadly, the list of those unsuited to the work was a long one. There were those who were incompetent behind the wheel. During a complex ambush scenario at Haditha Dam some
months later, I briefed the guys to look after the cars and take it easy when reversing. Due to the remote location of our project, we could not afford to damage any vehicles. They were our lifeline. A US marine major whom I was friendly with was watching the training. On the very next scenario, one of the consultants, while reversing his vehicle out of the ambush area, became confused about which way to turn the steering wheel. Then he tried to depress the brake but accidentally hit the accelerator. Another consultant, who had exited his vehicle and taken up a firing position, saw this wayward Pajero thundering towards him, so he quickly jumped back into his vehicle just seconds before the other car slammed into the door.

I turned to the marine. ‘So what do you think?' I joked. ‘Do you like the way we do business?'

He laughed. ‘Lucky you told that penis to take it easy. Imagine what he would be capable of if you put him under a bit of pressure.'

The highly competent former soldiers who were scattered throughout the security companies despised these pretenders. So why did men who didn't have to be in Iraq make the decision to go there? For many, it was the pull of the almighty dollar. For others, it was the excitement and challenge of performing in the most dangerous environment on earth – to be part of the campaign. Others missed the camaraderie associated with their time in the military, and relished the opportunity to work with old friends and like-minded people. Some were even there to express their disagreement with the war, following what they saw as a moral obligation to assist in the reconstruction effort. For others still, it was all they knew or all they wanted to do. They were being paid well, so were willing to run the gauntlet until either they were blown apart or the work dried up. In a place of such dangers and challenges, it was an additional source of anxiety I could have done without.