John D McHugh

Hi everyone,

 

I’ve been very busy since I last wrote, so I’ll try to get you all up to date. Late Wednesday, 8^th Nov, night I travelled out of Masum Gar on a convoy to a “Strongpoint,” which is basically a fortified position, on the plain which Masum Gar overlooks. This is where the heavy fighting in Operation Medusa took place, and there are several Strongpoints on the Plain. The coalition is building a road through this plain as part of its reconstruction plan, improving life for the locals, and it is constantly being attacked by the Taliban. We travelled out in a convoy of Light Armoured Vehicles (LAVs), after dark, and soon I was setting up my sleeping quarters in the middle of a battlefield. As usual I can’t say much about the place I stayed for security reasons, except that it is called Club Z, a very sarcastic reference to the sun and sand holiday company Club Med. As soon as I arrived I was run through the procedures that I should follow in case of attack. Mortar fire is the usual danger in this area, so the trick is to get down low and stay down until the shrapnel stops flying. I was sleeping beside a LAV, outside on a cot, so I should be safe unless we took a direct hit. My position did have one drawback; I was right under the 25mm cannon on the LAV, which is an extraordinarily loud gun when it starts firing. I was convinced that if we were attacked when I was asleep and it started firing over my head, I would be dead from fright long before any real danger reached me.

 

I spent a few hours talking to the guys at my position, and I started to get a better idea of how the war is affecting these Canadians. Every single guy here had been in full-on fighting, and all of them had killed Taliban. In fact most of them talked of killing “many” anti-coalition fighters. I heard extremely grim accounts of how the body reacts to being hit with various types of ammunition, and none of them sounded pleasant. Suffice to say that these guys telling the sort of stories that would make most people sick. The thing that struck me most was the matter of fact way they talked about it. I never once asked about the killing, it was just something that kept coming into conversation. And I don’t believe anyone was boasting about it, it was more like a group therapy session. One guy would mention a particular incident, and then someone else would say, “Oh yeah, that’s where xxx happened.” Their Sergeant talked about a bok I have read, “On Killing,” written my a military shrink about the stages that a person goes through after killing someone. This Sgt. Said that he started going to the stages, but the feeling horrified stage just never took hold. He told me that having been under mortar, RPG, and machine gun fire from the Taliban for so long, and having had friends killed, he and his men were just glad to get a chance to fight back, and that the more Taliban they the killed, the less other Canadians would have to face. The other thing that struck me is that everyone I am meeting now has lost a friend, either killed or wounded. And a lot of guys I talk to are saying that they will sign up to come back here. Their attitude seems to be “We’ve been battle tested now, we’re blooded, and we’re prepared to see it through.” I’m meeting more and more guys who are getting very serious about this war. The whole attitude has changed from my last trip, and I fully expect to run into a lot of these guys again.

 

During the night I froze my ass off again. I am now getting roughly half an hour’s sleep before I wake up from the shivering, fall back asleep after a while, then wake up half an hour later. It means I am getting tired during the day, and taking more cat-naps. As soon as I get somewhere to buy a new sleeping bag I am going to get the biggest warmest thing they have, and fuck the price!!!

 

Thankfully the 25mm didn’t go off over my head in the night, and it was up at stupid O’Clock to travel further.

 

I arrived at my next Forward Operating Base only to discover that nobody there expected me. I met up with the people running the Command Post (CP) and they told me to hang around until the Commander turned up and he could decide what to do with me. Didn’t sound very promising, especially when one of the officers there told me that the CO didn’t like the media.

 

So I kicked my heels at yet another FOB, but this one was so small that I couldn’t really take any pictures at all without giving away some security features. This place has been attacked constantly, and there are the the scars of fighting all around. I am becoming very familiar with the different damage that mortars, RPGs, and machine gun fire can do, both to humans and to buildings. The one bright point about the camp was that they had a little puppy, who was the cutest thing I’d seen in a long while. The soldiers were all feeding him their food though, so he was spoiled rotten. He was a playful little devil, but I just couldn’t get a picture of him as he was scampering around so much.

 

When the OC came back I was introduced and he asked me straight out what I wanted from him. He wasn’t rude, but just direct. He had lots of people who wanted his time, and I obviously wasn’t going to get much of it. I decided if he was a straight talker, then I wouldn’t mince my words either, and said I just wanted to get into the middle of the shit-storm so that I could show people what the real situation was like in this area. He asked me if I didn’t know that all the fighting was finished in that area, or at least that was what people seemed to think, and I realised that he was annoyed at the media for abandoning the story after the big Op Medusa finished, and not staying to cover the day to day fighting. I explained that I knew the big battle was over, but I also knew the war was still going, and I explained my frustration at watching it from Masum Gar when I should be in the middle of it. So he said “Alright, if you want to get into the thick of it, I’ll put you there.”

 

Next thing I knew we were racing through the fine powdery sand in a convoy, and I mean racing. The soldiers in this area are regularly hit with IEDs, and in fact as I was talking to the CO at the camp we heard one explode just outside the base, hitting a civilian vehicle. So these guys take no chances and move as fast as possible, veering all over the place and stopping for nothing.

 

We stopped of at a different Strongpoint to deliver some supplies, and shortly after that I arrived at our destination. This strongpoint was a real eye opener to me, as it was like something out of a Vietnam movie, or even World War I. The whole place was sandbags and trenches, and it must have taken a huge amount of work to construct it. It was more of a fortified fighting position than a base. When I arrived there was double reason for joy at the Strongpoint, as they had run out of sandbags to fill, hence less backbreaking work, and the convoy had just brought them their first fresh food since 19^th October. After I found a place in the sand to sleep (no bunks here), I had a chat with the Platoon Commander. These guys have also seen a hell of a lot of fighting in the last 3 months, and they are becoming hardened. They are attacked regularly, but were keen to point out that they attack as often if not more than they are attacked. They do not have a siege mentality in their fortified positions, and are constantly asking for clearance to get out and engae their enemy. The Captain in charge was a friendly guy, as are all these Canadians, and he ran me through the by now very familiar procedures on attack. Again, mortars seemed to be the Taliban’s favourite method of attack. He introduced me to the Sgt Maj., who laid down the ground-rules (which essentially were don’t do anything stupid or dangerous, and don’t be a pain in the ass to the men), and then I was shown around. As I said, this place was straight out of Apocalypse Now, and every photograph I took looked to me like an old war photo. So I decided to send a whole lot of them in black and white, as befitted the style of the place. Unfortunately they don’t seem to be on Getty Images website, but I’ll try to get a gallery up on my site soon.

 

As I was being shown around there were regular explosion at various distances, but no-one seemed perturbed by them so I tried to ignore them. It is surprising how quickly I have become used to hearing gunfire, mortars, and artillery without flinching. Between strikes on “suspect movement” and “test firing” there are guns shooting and explosions going off frequently.

 

Everyone was friendly at the position, although I’m sure the fact that they had just had fresh food was more the reason than seeing “reporter.” I find that even the friendliest guys out here are wary of the media, but when they hear I am a photographer it usually alleviate s their fears of me. (Which is why I don’t name people in this email / blog.) Anyway, I wandered around shooting this “war zone that time forgot” and got some really great stuff. Not bang-bang fighting stuff, but guys sitting in the dirt, just living their lives in very difficult conditions. And then there was the care package, sent from a school in Stittsville, Ontario, which included lots of treats for the soldiers, and letters from the 14 and 15 year olds. I read a couple, and I swear, you couldn’t make this stuff up. There were prayers for the soldiers and their families, thanks that these guys were fighting so the letter writer’s friends didn’t have to, and fears that this war would still be going on for years. I really felt I was witnessing a whole country come to terms with the situation it finds itself in, which again is very different from when I was here in April / May, when most Canadians still seemed to think it was a peace-keeping mission.

 

Eventually it was time to freeze, I mean sleep, and of course the night passed in small sections of sleep interspersed with long bouts of shivering and loud bangs. There were flares fired from mortars at various stages, and occasional gunshots in the distance. At around 1am there were some very loud explosions nearby, which I think actually shook me awake, but when I finally managed to open the top of my sleeping bag no-one else was moving around, so I figured it must be ok and just tried to get back to sleep. And that’s what these soldiers go through every night.

 

 

Hi everyone, 

 

First off I have to apologise for my last mail / post. Apparently most of you didn’t find it as amusing as I did writing it. I have no excuse, I am an idiot. 

 

Since then things have been busy. That night there was lots more artillery, firing illumination flares, and heavy explosive (HE) into Pashmul, which this FOB overlooks. Pashmul is where the heavy fighting in Operation Medusa took place recently, and it is still active. Yesterday morning I was up early to follow Chief of Land Staff General Leslie, the top dog, big boss of the Canadian Army. He arrived the previous nigh, which is why I haven’t been able to email or file photos, as it was deemed a bad idea to announce his presence. Fair play to the General, he slept outside on a cot in a sleeping bag just ike the rest of the troops, ate MREs, and drank the bad coffee. He spent hours yesterday walking up to the various Observation Posts to meet the soldiers stationed here, and I chased him around the whole place, which he didn’t mind at all. He spent a lot of time asking questions about possible improvements to equipment and issued kit, and the soldiers felt at ease enough to make some interesting suggestions. He then sat atop a peak and was talked through the story of the fighting while having the various locations pointed out to him. Boy, if a Taliban sniper had only known who the bloke on the hill was……… 

 

As usual I made up a CD with the pictures I had shot of him, and gave it to one of his staff. I always try to make sure that the people I have photographed out here get a copy, and the soldiers love it. They all have cameras, and some of them are pretty damn good with them, but usually they are too busy doing their job to get the really good stuff, which of course is them doing their jobs. So, the General was no exception, but he found the time to thank me personally, and insisted I shake his hand. In his hand he had concealed “The Commander’s Coin,” which only he can give, and tradition says it must be transferred through a handshake. So now it’s mine. It is a big hunk of metal, golden coloured, but not gold I’m sure, with red enamel, and has the Canadian Army’s emblem set in it, and pretty cool looking. He said it’s not worth anything, but if I’m ever in trouble and Canadian troops are there, show them the coin and they will take me in. I was impressed that he took the time to make this gesture, and I can see why all the soldiers and officers hold him in such high regard. We spent about 10 minutes talking about the importance of having embedded media with the military, and wanted to hear my thoughts, and I felt I was being mined for information too, just like the soldiers he spoke to. 

 

In the afternoon there was a contact (fighting) with the Taliban, or somebody, in Pashmul, and as soon as it came over the radio I rushed up to a vantage point to see what was going on. There had been small arms fire, and some possible mortars fired, and I was just in time to see the second of two 500lbs bombs being dropped on the suspected Taliban’s position. That pretty much stopped the fighting, as those bombs don’t leave many survivors. 

 

Then it was time for the barbecue. Every few days the camp gets in fresh food, and everyone gets some real food, and a huge morale boost. We had grilled chicken with spices, a hot dog with fresh bun, and some potato salad. It is amazing how something so ordinary can so suddenly seem so special. The soldiers all sat around eating and chatting, and even though everyone was wearing body armour and covered in sand and dust, you could have imagined yourself at the greatest party in the world. 

 

Later in the day I went back to one of the Observation Posts to photograph the guys at dusk. The light here is just amazing, and the sandy mountains turn the most stunning golden colour as the sun sets, turning to purple before the light dies. I tried shooting some stuff through the troops Night Vision Goggles (NVGs) but it is a nightmare. I ended up doing some slow exposure by the light of the almost full moon. Then we watched a jet fighter criss-cross the area of the earlier fighting. He dropped some flares, and then various bases started also firing illumination. It was a very pretty firework show. Then I had to face the walk back down the rock. There is still that viper around, and everyone is paranoid about it. The troops are pissed off, as they have been told they can’t shoot it if they see it, just get it with a shovel or their bayonet. And worse, there is no anti-venom available on base, so they have been told that if they get bitten they have to put a tourniquet on themselves and then they will be taken to hospital by helicopter. It seems unreasonable to them,. And walking down it seemed unreasonable to me too! 

 

I climbed into bed I the dark, and again had a crap nights sleep. A convoy came in to camp in the middle of the night, and when I woke I though I was being strangled. My inner lining moves inside my sleeping bag, and it is similar to trying to wrap yourself up in a tight sock, and then get comfortable. But it is really very cold at night, so I have no choice. 

 

This morning I was up early, 5:30am, and had breakfast with the same guys at the same OP. They have to man the post all night obviously, but it really must be cold up there, as it is very exposed to an extra wind chill factor. 

 

Then it was off on a patrol with the omelette guys. Well that’s what their called, but it’s actually the OMLT (Observer, Mentor, Liaison, Training) team, and they work closely with the Afghan National Army, helping them to improve. It was a long walk out of a village, through some fields, over a lot of walls, through some vineyards (where you can’t see your footing and there are more snakes) and back into the village. It is still hot here, though not as hot as it was when I was here last, and with my body armour I was exhausted by the time we were finished. 

 

I’ve been editing and sending for the last few hours, so if you check out www.gettyimages.com, and go into editorial, then news, and search mchugh, you can see for yourselves. Now I’m off to find an MRE and some coffee, before my next mission. Speak to you all soon. 

 

John D 

 

I don’t know if it’s made the news back home yet, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. Of course I had hoped it would be at the end of a glittering career as a war photographer. We were warned earlier in the afternoon to expect an imminent attack, and to wear or carry our body armour and helmet at all times. A few hours passed and I relaxed, thinking it was no big deal. I decided to eat before it got dark, as it’s difficult to prepare a meal in the dark, even an MRE (Meals Ready to Eat). These meals in a foil pack are great, but very fiddly, so it’s best to cut them open and get the whole process underway before last light. I made my way to my sleeping area, and sat down, after taking off my armour. I was just cutting open the wrapper when, BOOM!!!
 

The sound of the explosion made me jump, and then I felt the pain. Shocked, I looked down to see blood!
 

Yes, that’s right, I had a very nasty paper-cut on my right index finger The sound of OUTGOING artillery had caused me to jerk, dragging my finger along the sharp foil wrapper, resulting in a nice neat gash.
 

The prognosis is good though, as the medical specialist (me) cleaned the wound and believes I won’t lose the finger. Sorry to have worried you all though.
 

On a more serious note, I’ve had a good day after a bad night. Well not bad exactly, but cold and loud. You see, I’m in the dog-house with the army. Or to be more precise, I am sharing a tent with two dog handlers, and their dogs. At least I have a cot to sleep on, and a canvas over my head. Unfortunately the dogs like to bark at anything and the tent is open at the front, where they put me. It was fairly mild when I went to bed, about 8pm local time, but I woke up later in the night and it was fucking freezing. Of course my thermal liner for my sleeping bag was buried in my backpack, and as soon as I started rustling around looking for it, the bloody dogs were off again. So in the end I just shivered, rolled over, and went back to sleep. Shivering, it turns out, does not lead to a refreshing nights sleep.
 

On the plus side, I was up to see the dawn, which I never do in London.  Fresh coffee made from a percolator, a yummy (urgh) breakfast of prawn and ham jambalaya, (the rule with MRE’s is that what ever you pick out of the box you have to eat) and I was all set for the day. It was still cold, so I wrapped up in my nice new Snug-Pak, super warm pull over which is waterproof outside and warm wool inside, and a woolly hat, just like everyone else. This was a good tip from one of my friends, you know who you are, and I was very glad of it.
 

I do love being out in this environment, as opposed to a big base like KAF. Here, everything is a picture. A guy climbing out of his dust covered sleeping bag here, and someone eating his breakfast while examining a map over there. Of course I couldn’t actually shoot either, because the guy in the bag was sleeping beside a structure I’m not allowed photograph, and the map is classified. But you know what I mean.
 

I spent the day hanging out in an OP (Observation Post) with some of the guys from A company. These guys are from the 2^nd Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI), and you may remember I was with 1^st PPCLI last trip. One of the guys celebrates his 21^st birthday tomorrow, the last one in the company, so I shot some special “hero” photos for him to send home to his parents and girlfriend. I got some other nice pics too, but it is difficult shooting in the base because there is lots of restricted stuff I can’t show. Still, the guys were happy to put up with me so I took as much time as I needed. It’s quite a climb up to the OP, so I stayed and ate lunch with them, and of course there was the usual bitching about what was in the rations, but as these guys have been eating them for 3 months I guess it’s understandable that they get fed up with the limited options.
 

When I finally said I was heading back down, they told me to watch out for the viper. Apparently there is a very poisonous snake living in a crevice about half way down the narrow path, which they have so far failed to kill. Now I don’t know which would be worse, getting bitten by the little beast, or falling down the mountain after jumping out of his way. They said “just shoot it,” but of course I am the only person on the whole base who doesn’t have a gun. As you know, I survived, only to be wounded later in the day. War is hell!
 

I’m happy to report that yesterday I finally managed to get outside the wire. Although embedded with Canadian Forces, as you know I have been waiting for a convoy to get me out into the Forward Operating Area, and so have been sitting on my ass at KAF. One of the first questions I asked when I arrived was how many rocket attacks a night KAF was getting, as there were a few when I was here last, and I heard it got to a point that they were being attacked almost nightly during the summer. I was told that there hadn’t been an attack in the last month, not since those crazy fucking Brits took over security outside the wire. Now I know the Brits who specialise in this stuff, ‘cause I met them last year in Iraq. The whole camp think these guys are heroes. The RAF Regiment in an infantry regiment within the Royal Air Force, and I spent a few days with 1 Squadron at Basra last October. In fact it is those guys that are on my home page. So, I tracked down the British Press Officer, and begged and pleaded to go on a patrol with the guys here, 2 Sqn, as I had nothing else to do. He had a word, and next thing I knew I was meeting the Commanding Officer of 2 Sqn. The first thing he said to me was “You know we travel in soft skins” referring to the Land Rover that the British use. There has been a lot of controversy over their lack of armour lately, although I know they use advanced tactics to protect themselves. “Yes” I said, and then he replied “And you still want to go out. That usually puts off journalists.” So I said yes and off we went. It was great to sit in on the briefing, with the excitement in me building. The frustration of the last few days sitting around was terrible. To get this far and then not get outside the wire was driving me crazy. Anyway, we loaded up the wagons and as they are open topped I was able to stand and shoot for the whole trip. (I’ve been meaning to say, for anyone who is interested, you can see my photographs on www.gettyimages.com then go into news and search mchugh) It was a CIMIC mission (Civil and Military Cooperation) which means that as well as patrolling the extended area to interrupt any planned attacks and anti-coalition militia activity it also has an outreach goal. The coalition is going to dig 5 new wells for the local villages and they wanted to talk to the village elders to decide on the sites most suitable to their needs. Of course any interaction is used to gather HUM-INT (Human intelligence, or information and gossip to civilians) and also to build relationships with the locals. In one village they found the remains of used rockets, although the village elders said they collected them for scrap metal. They looked so small and insignificant, and I had to remind myself that although the kids were playing with them they can still kill people. As the sun started to set the sky was clear so I could also get some “Golden Hour” (that beautiful light you get when the sun rises and sets) photographs. Then is was a bumpy ride in the dark for a while, and back to base. But it doesn’t finish there. As part of their operations, the RAF Regiment also use mortars to send up flares at night, illuminating vulnerable or suspicious areas. I had asked to see this, and sure enough they guys got me straight down there, just before the firing started. Now, some of you may remember me describing how loud and terrifying a mortar is when it goes bang, and how I almost had a heart attack when Recce fired one in front of me back in April. Well, I had thought about this, and before I left this time I bought a mini tripod to attach to the bottom of my camera. This way I can set the camera down, and it doesn’t matter how much I jump because the camera will be steady. It was totally dark long before I got there, and obviously I can’t use flash in a war zone, but I knew that when a mortar fires it blasts out a huge flame. I used this to illuminate the picture, and it worked perfectly. Still bloody terrifying though!!! The noise is so loud it is heard across the entire camp, giving the RAF Regiment their new nickname, The Thumpers. Hours of editing followed, and then packing, because I had to be up early today. I finally got my transport out to the boonies, and am sitting in a tent at a Forward Operating Base in Panjwayi district in Kandahar province. Panjwayi is where there was very heavy fighting a few weeks ago, and it is still a high priority area for the Coalition. They have announced a new mission, Operation Eagle, which will run for the winter. The idea is that their troops will clear particular areas, then garrison them, and ISAF will then use the winter to conduct lots of reconstruction projects during the traditional seasonal lull in fighting. However, Taliban spokesmen have stated that this year the will conduct a winter campaign, so it looks like this war is not going away soon. I can’t really say much about the base, but it’s nice to be back with troops in the frontline. There is a much different attitude out here than behind the wire in KAF. The guys here have been shot at, mortared, rocketed, etc, and they know it is for real, but that also builds this camaraderie and lightness of humour. People are busy, and serious about their job, but at the same time laugh and joke a lot. And as always, the Canadians are endlessly welcoming, helpful, and hospitable. It’s sad though, to hear what can only be called (and I apologise for the cliché) “a grim determination” in their conversation. One of the guys who was with us on the convoy told me straight, when he came here he was not at all happy about the idea of having to fire on someone, let alone try to kill them, but now he feels different. He talked about coming to Afghanistan to help people, to do something good in his life. He was a nice, decent, warm guy, who I could have happily hung out with or had a beer with. He told me he has sent home 4 friends in body bags, and kinda knew 3 others who died, and he has been repeatedly shot at and has witnessed multiple road side bomb attacks. Now he just wants to survive, and if that means shooting someone he says he will do it without hesitation, not because he wants to take a life away, but simply because he wants to live.

3 Nov 2006

 

Hurry up and wait is the motto of every army, and it is a concept I have become familiar with during previous embeds, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. Boredom is difficult to relieve on a military base, even one as large as KAF. Yesterday I spent all day waiting, waiting for confirmation of my planned trip outside the wire with the Canadian forces (of which I can say no more, as I am not allowed talk about any future plans due to “Operational Security” – Loose lips sink ships and all that), waiting to see if any of the other coalition forces would reply to my requests to them, waiting to see if there would be a striking sunset to shoot, and all to no avail. And so I had to try and fill my day as best I could, as thousands of soldiers billeted here also have to do.
 

The PX is the first and most obvious activity. The PX is a general store, stocking all the usual supplies like soft drinks, cigarettes, magazines, CDs and DVDs, X-Boxes and games, digital cameras, while at the same time providing for more localized needs such as desert boots, pistol holsters, Camel-Backs (water holders that are worn as a back-pack), and the ubiquitous American flag. Of course the souvenir hunter can choose from “Operation Enduring Freedom” mugs, “Fighting for Freedom” shot-glasses (although there is no alcohol on base), and T-shirts with messages ranging from patriotic through to downright homicidal. But most bizarrely of all, on one shelf I found a Holy Bible, International Edition, with a camouflage cover. The Good Book, packaged for war.  
 

If you haven’t sated your retail-therapy urges, then you can head for the Boardwalk, a huge wood-work undertaking that certainly staved off boredom for some guys. Along the Boardwalk you will find clothing repair and alteration shops, an outlet for “Black-Ops” supplies, although I seriously doubt that special forces stock up on their kit from there, as well as quirkier vendors. One shop sells those wooden Russian dolls that go inside each other, another specialises in embroidery, for all those name tags and unit badges that are displayed all over the uniforms of the multi-national task force.
 

You can also choose to eat from Burger King, Pizza Hut, Sub-Way, or the newest addition, Tim Horton’s, Canada’s ever-present coffee chain and unofficial Canadian emblem, much like Guinness is Ireland’s, I am reliably informed. When I was out here in April/May I heard endless description from Recce Platoon, 1PPCLI, of the magical, mystical and possible miraculous powers of a Tim Horton’s, and this was when there was no franchise on base.
 

Going back to the Boardwalk, construction and woodwork in particular seem to be a favourite way to pass the downtime here. The troops are housed in basic tents, with a central walkway down the middle and 5 cubicles on each side. Outside the door of many tents there are various types of decking, porches, and relaxing areas. Some of there are impressive structures, with side-rails and even sunshades overhead, a testament to the determination and commitment of bored soldiers. One even has a sign outside, “Luxury apartments available for rent.”
 

The day passed slowly, and still no word on any of my requests. I had also asked for permission to get out on the runway and shoot some helicopters landing, silhouetted against the sunset, but the day conspired against me, and there was so much dust in the air that there was no sunset to speak of.
 

Once the sun was down, about 5:30 to 6pm, there was only dinner to look forward to, and that’s a pretty depressing thought. The food seems to have deteriorated here since my last visit, with less variety on offer. This puzzles me considering the huge numbers of KBR catering staff present. And speaking of KBR staff, I heard one of the journalist say that there are more KBR staff on site at KAF than there are Afghan National Police in Kandahar city. Now THAT is a depressing thought!
 

I eventually climbed in to my sleeping bag hoping the next day would contain a little more “hurry up” and a lot less “wait.”
 

John D