Dog Soldiers: Love, loyalty and sacrifice on the front line. Isabel George

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and push up as the party took the slow and careful incline up the ramp and into the body of the plane. Sasha’s former handler, Sergeant Andy Dodds, took front left position: ‘The concentration was immense. The plane is meant to take cargo so the ramp is designed to be smooth underfoot and as I looked ahead to prepare for my first step up I couldn’t help noticing the number of people present and the dogs, too. As I took that first step onto the ramp I became very aware of my legs and feet. I only wanted them to do what my head was telling them. I’m sure all of us were feeling the same. Marianne was walking alone behind us, her arms around the shell casing containing Sasha’s ashes. I’ve no doubt she was trying her very best to hold back tears right to the point where she placed the casing at the head of the coffin.

      When Marianne Hay accepted the honour of carrying Sasha’s ashes onto the plane at Camp Bastion she did it to ensure that the dog she trained was repatriated in the way of a hero, to sit at the feet of another hero, her friend and fellow search dog handler, Lance Corporal Kenneth Rowe. With tears welling in her eyes for the loss of the dog she considered closest to her heart and the man she considered to be one of the most talented handlers in the team, Marianne held the brass casing close to her body. As she walked through the soft sound of stifled sobbing, passing colleagues lining the route, she managed to keep her head.

      Step by slow step she followed the bearer party up the steep ramp and into the darkness of the body of the plane. It was hard. Hard to do and hard to let go. After setting down the coffin the party paused a moment and hugged each other.

      Sergeant Dodds added: ‘Getting through the formalities just as we planned and setting Ken down on the plane was the easier bit. It was saying our personal last goodbyes, the prayers and the group hug that gave most of us the licence to let go of our feelings. The darkness robbed us of a view of the giant C17 lurching into the sky above Bastion but we could hear it loud and clear and knew that it would dip its wings for the final farewell – that was the hardest part. Then, for Ken and for all of us, we had to get the teams back on the ground and take the fight right back to the Taliban.’

Chapter 3

       For Queen and country – The Troubles

      Ken’s death in July 2008 had highlighted the growing need and respect for the dog soldiers within the wider Army. The demand for search dogs in Afghanistan had massively increased. The patrols appreciated the reassurance of having a search dog with them making safe their route ahead, so the pressure weighed heavy on the RAVC and specifically the men and women of 104 MWD unit to supply the demand. As a Combined Forces operation the pressure radiated out to the Danish and the Americans to provide additional search dog cover too. But the Brit dogs, from the Army and the RAF, were working hard to rise to the challenge. Trouble was, they couldn’t get enough of them on the ground.

      Ken Rowe had volunteered to stay on and pick up his R and R later because his replacement had fallen ill and would be out later than expected to support 2 Para. He had been working closely with the unit and was well embedded with them at FOB Inkerman, which was a small but highly volatile spot. Ken was their dog soldier and Sasha was their dog. They already knew that Ken was thorough, trustworthy and a cheeky Geordie and they knew Sasha was a lean, keen and effective search dog. Their relationship had been forged while they lived in sun- and rain-blasted holes in the sand and waited and waited for the attention of the enemy that they knew would show itself – they just didn’t know when. Sasha’s ability to locate deadly devices and hidden weapons and arms had been a literal lifesaver. There was no way Ken was going to leave the men vulnerable. He was staying – and so was Sasha.

      Operation Herrick 8 was proving the toughest yet. Death and serious injury were daily occurrences and the regular procession of hearses carrying flag-draped coffins through Wootton Bassett was educating the public in the extent of the sacrifice. The media coverage was also responsible for delivering the emotions attached to the loss into everyone’s home in a very visual way. Even for families untouched by a death or disfigurement, the impression of what was actually happening in Afghanistan was real and almost tangible.

      For many of the senior members of the RAVC dog unit this was a reminder of the past and, at some level, the continuing threat in Northern Ireland. Many of the Commanding Officers in Afghanistan had served during The Troubles and others, like Ken Rowe, had later cut their teeth in the Province.

      The Army Dog Unit, Northern Ireland, was formed on 1 May 1973. From its base in Ballykelly, County Londonderry, the unit provided critical support to the British Army who first posted troops to the Province in 1969. Only expecting to be needed for a few weeks to support the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC), the Army quickly realised that it would take more than short-term peacekeeping activity to quell the violent and ongoing clashes that had broken out between the Protestants and Catholics. By July 1973 the Army Dog Unit found itself at the heart of The Troubles when it lost the first of four of its number to terrorist activities.

      Corporal Bryan Criddle, BEM, was the first of their fallen. He was patrolling the border at Clogher in County Tyrone with C Squadron, The Royal Tank Regiment, when his search dog, Jason, indicated (pointed out explosives) on a milk churn, one of several set out in a horseshoe formation. Bryan was working in recognised ‘bandit country’: if his dog was telling him explosives were present – they were. What he could not know was that the terrorists were watching. The milk-churn bomb was detonated remotely, leaving Bryan with life-threatening head injuries. He was helicoptered out to Musgrave Park hospital but lost his battle for life four days later. Jason was blown 30 feet in the air but by some miracle survived. Colleagues reported that the dog went into protective mode the second Bryan went down and had to be pulled off his master as he wouldn’t let anyone get close to help. Jason was airlifted, too, and after a veterinary checkover was transferred to the kennels at the Maze Prison to recuperate.

      Corporal Criddle was killed just weeks after being awarded the British Empire Medal (BEM) for his service with the Army Dog Unit in Northern Ireland; in July Jason had been awarded his ‘wings’ for completing 1,000 flying hours in helicopters operating between the garrison and the border to carry out his duties. This was recognition for the soldier and the dog, but it also drew attention to the unique role of the entire unit.

      At that time the Army Dog Unit was a relatively small part of the RAVC, but its special skills were making a difference in Northern Ireland where the terrorist threat was often not just hidden from human eyes but it shifted in shape and composition all the time. In addition to the RAVC, dog handlers were recruited from volunteer dog soldiers within all regiments and corps of the Army and the dogs were trained in three disciplines: guard/attack dogs (known as Snappers or Land Sharks), tracker dogs (known as Groundhogs), and vehicle search dogs and arms and explosives search dogs – the Wagtails. The dogs and the soldiers were lifesavers no matter which of three disciplines they excelled in, but they were also targets.

      In 1974 the then Commander Land Forces Northern Ireland, Major General Peter Leng, MC MBE, granted the ADU NI RAVC the right to wear a Red Paw badge in their berets to the left of their regimental cap badge. The enamel badge, measuring a quarter of an inch, was to unite the members of this specialist unit. The Red Paw badge represented the bloody paws of the dogs who carried out their duties, often walking on broken glass and in the shadow of death. The dog soldiers wore it with pride.

      On the Bank Holiday weekend, 25 May 1991, Corporal Terry ‘Geordie’ O’Neill and his colleague Corporal Darren Swift, ‘Swifty’, were with their dogs, Blue and Troy, in the exercise yard at the Army barracks at North Howard Street Mill when a terrorist hurled a ‘coffee-jar’ bomb (containing Semtex, a detonator and ‘shipyard confetti’ – nuts, bolts, nails, rivets, etc) from the fire escape of the snooker hall next door. The homemade bomb landed at the soldiers’ feet, killing Geordie instantly and taking Darren Swift’s legs – and a finger – clean away. Blue and Troy miraculously survived the blast but needed veterinary СКАЧАТЬ