A Million Bullets: The Real Story of the British Army in Afghanistan by James Fergusson Page B
Authors: James Fergusson
Tags: United States, History, England, Military, Europe, middle east, Great Britain, Ireland, 21st Century, Modern (16th-21st Centuries), Afghan War
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They were far from their homes, with minimal training, on a salary of four dollars a day – about a third of what the Taliban paid their fighters. Given those circumstances I reckon we might desert, too.' The deserters were always in the minority, he insisted, and many of those who stayed behind were 'ballsy . . . They had different motives for joining up. Some hated the Talibs, some believed in the state, some were just plain bored with their lives and were looking for adventure. But there was a growing sense of pride in their new units . . . Given time, they'll be fine. The honour system and the pride that all soldiers need are built-in with Afghans. They were much rubbished, but at least they were there.'
According to Angus Mathers, the Now Zad contingent performed well, under the circumstances. They got on well with the Gurkhas, who taught them a lot about how to man a sangar properly, and he confirmed Libby's view that they didn't want for courage. 'They were really quite poorly trained when they turned up, by Chinook, no night vision, just Dougie Bartholomew on his own in charge . . . It was daunting for anyone, let alone at night-time.'
Nevertheless, they 'had their moments', most of them related to the complete breakdown of their supply chain, which was kept strictly separate from the British one. 'They didn't have enough food or water or ammo. Dougie kept asking but nothing ever came up. I don't know why – it was a matter for their high command – but they were never even paid at Now Zad. It wasn't easy to keep them motivated.'
Their fire control discipline was poor, too. Accidents from NDs – negligent discharges – were commonplace. On patrols in the town they could be a liability, as was proved when one of them accidentally killed a civilian interpreter. They were not ready for the intensity of fighting in Helmand in the summer of 2006, and certainly nowhere near ready to garrison outstations such as Now Zad on their own. Rex ordered the ANA to man the compound's two least strategically critical sangars – the one overlooking the main gate and the other on the prison roof in the centre of the west wall – and hoped for the best. Unsurprisingly, when the attacks on the compound grew serious it was the Gurkhas who did 'ninety-nine per cent of the work'.
In the course of July, Rex's platoon repulsed over two dozen attempts to overrun the compound, firing over 30,000 rifle rounds, 17,000 GPMG rounds and 2,000 of .50 cal, and killing an estimated one hundred of their attackers. Yet the return to Bastion was a strange anti-climax. After twenty-four hours' rest they were put back on guard duty almost as if Now Zad had never happened. In December, when the Queen's New Year honours list was gazetted, their achievements again seemed forgotten in the flurry of Military Crosses awarded to 3 Para, and the media hoopla surrounding Bryan Budd, the posthumous recipient of a Victoria Cross – only the second VC to be awarded since the Falklands. There were no medals for the Gurkhas. Five of them, including Hollingshead, Kailash and Nabin, were Mentioned in Dispatches for their bravery, but that was all. They were, perhaps, the victims of their own luck. At Folkestone there was a whisper that the medal tally might have been higher if one or more of their number had been killed.
They didn't much mind. The Gurkhas were used to being slighted by the establishment. The regiment has been squeezed and sidelined over the years, reduced from eight battalions in 1995 (and forty-three of them during World War Two) to just two today. In 2007, after a long legal battle, the Gurkha veterans' pension was finally increased to the same level as the British one. But this victory was spoiled by the Home Office, which continued to resist an effort by forty-four veterans to gain British residency rights, arguing that the men, who had 170 medals between them, did not have 'sufficiently strong ties' to the country.
Still, for the officers
According to Angus Mathers, the Now Zad contingent performed well, under the circumstances. They got on well with the Gurkhas, who taught them a lot about how to man a sangar properly, and he confirmed Libby's view that they didn't want for courage. 'They were really quite poorly trained when they turned up, by Chinook, no night vision, just Dougie Bartholomew on his own in charge . . . It was daunting for anyone, let alone at night-time.'
Nevertheless, they 'had their moments', most of them related to the complete breakdown of their supply chain, which was kept strictly separate from the British one. 'They didn't have enough food or water or ammo. Dougie kept asking but nothing ever came up. I don't know why – it was a matter for their high command – but they were never even paid at Now Zad. It wasn't easy to keep them motivated.'
Their fire control discipline was poor, too. Accidents from NDs – negligent discharges – were commonplace. On patrols in the town they could be a liability, as was proved when one of them accidentally killed a civilian interpreter. They were not ready for the intensity of fighting in Helmand in the summer of 2006, and certainly nowhere near ready to garrison outstations such as Now Zad on their own. Rex ordered the ANA to man the compound's two least strategically critical sangars – the one overlooking the main gate and the other on the prison roof in the centre of the west wall – and hoped for the best. Unsurprisingly, when the attacks on the compound grew serious it was the Gurkhas who did 'ninety-nine per cent of the work'.
In the course of July, Rex's platoon repulsed over two dozen attempts to overrun the compound, firing over 30,000 rifle rounds, 17,000 GPMG rounds and 2,000 of .50 cal, and killing an estimated one hundred of their attackers. Yet the return to Bastion was a strange anti-climax. After twenty-four hours' rest they were put back on guard duty almost as if Now Zad had never happened. In December, when the Queen's New Year honours list was gazetted, their achievements again seemed forgotten in the flurry of Military Crosses awarded to 3 Para, and the media hoopla surrounding Bryan Budd, the posthumous recipient of a Victoria Cross – only the second VC to be awarded since the Falklands. There were no medals for the Gurkhas. Five of them, including Hollingshead, Kailash and Nabin, were Mentioned in Dispatches for their bravery, but that was all. They were, perhaps, the victims of their own luck. At Folkestone there was a whisper that the medal tally might have been higher if one or more of their number had been killed.
They didn't much mind. The Gurkhas were used to being slighted by the establishment. The regiment has been squeezed and sidelined over the years, reduced from eight battalions in 1995 (and forty-three of them during World War Two) to just two today. In 2007, after a long legal battle, the Gurkha veterans' pension was finally increased to the same level as the British one. But this victory was spoiled by the Home Office, which continued to resist an effort by forty-four veterans to gain British residency rights, arguing that the men, who had 170 medals between them, did not have 'sufficiently strong ties' to the country.
Still, for the officers
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