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

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СКАЧАТЬ news standing up.

      ‘We’ve received news that concerns your son, Kenneth. He was on duty in Helmand Province with B Company 2nd Battalion Parachute Regiment (2 Para) when they came under heavy attack from a group of insurgents armed with rocket-propelled grenades. Kenneth took a direct hit and his dog, Sasha, too. They were killed instantly. They fell together, Mrs Rowe. Kenneth didn’t die alone.’

      A silence overpowered the room. The dog stopped barking.

      There’s still a sense of the surreal about that morning. It’s not because of what was said to me, because I knew what that would be from the first flash of the car headlights, but maybe it’s more to do with the short time it took for it to be explained. In less than an hour I had lost my son. He was 24 years old.

      Kenneth (I always call him Kenneth as his father is Ken) was a soldier who loved dogs and died doing the job he loved. I knew that if there was any way by which he would have wanted to leave us forever it would have been doing his duty as a Military Working Dog handler. It was the job he wanted to do and the one he signed up for. And to have his search dog, Sasha, at his side at the end, well, maybe he would have been characteristically … proud. Proud to have been doing his duty to the last second of his life.

      Of course, none of that came into my head that July morning in 2008. I’ve since been told that what happened next was done in shock and denial, and maybe that’s right. One thing I’m sure of is that Kenneth would have been surprised if I had behaved in any other way.

      ‘So how long do I have to tell the family?’ I remember asking the man from the MoD. ‘We have a large family and I want them to hear this news from me, not the BBC. How long?’

      He told me we had until late morning, latest, as Kenneth’s death would be announced on the BBC lunchtime news. And he needed a photograph of my son, if that was all right.

      It was still only 3am but by then time was irrelevant. I am one of six children and Ken had his mother and two sisters to reach, so with nephews, nieces and cousins on top of that it was pretty much a race against time. He kindly asked if there was anything he could do to help. I hope he saw that I was already making a list in my head of people I needed to speak to, and as soon as he left I started transferring my thoughts to paper.

      I decided it was too early to start calling people, even family – after all, it was the kind of news that could wait until everyone else’s day had begun. Nothing was going to change the news or make it any better, but at least I could make a list of who needed to know. I decided that 6am would be a good time to start making the rounds. But what about work?

      As Practice Manager for a large legal firm in Newcastle I always had plenty on my plate. All my friends and colleagues know I’m a workaholic, but at that particular time I was right in the middle of an audit that would achieve a European standard for all the offices in the firm. The audit was nearly over and there was no way I was going to walk out and let everyone down. I told myself that I was going to complete it and cope.

      I filled two pages of A4 notepaper with instructions for the team. Every detail of all they had to do to complete the audit and achieve the accreditation was there. It was still only 5.30am but I decided that it was best to deliver the notes and the files I had with me to the office so they would be there when it opened. Ken drove while I thought back over what I’d written, but when we arrived I realised that I couldn’t get into the main building without setting off the full alarm system. Thankfully I had access to the garage so we stacked the boxes of files in there and put the notes on top. I knew I could explain anything else when I phoned my boss later. That was work done. Sorted.

      Now, my family.

      It was still only 6.10am. Then it hit me, my beautiful girls. I had to tell them they had lost their brother. Dear God – was this some kind of nightmare?

      When we arrived at Jennifer’s house I sat in the car for a minute or so to get myself together before Ken took my hand to help me out of the car. I will never forget Jeni’s face when she opened the door; she knew something was very wrong and I’m not sure that it really registered when I finally uttered the words: ‘Kenneth’s been killed …’

      She took the news reasonably well. Probably in shock, I realise that now. We hugged like we would never let each other go. Ken held us both. Our rock. Our protector. But even this was beyond him.

      We couldn’t bear to leave Jeni behind so she came with us to Stephanie’s home, just a short distance away. It’s still a comfort to know they live so close to each other and that morning I was especially relieved as Steph took it very badly. Kenneth was her big brother and watched over her. Yes, he could be more than over-protective, but it was all part of his love for his little sister. Now he was gone.

      I hated seeing my girls in tears. I would have given anything to just get them together and hide away from the world, but the burden of having to reach the rest of the family within the next four hours was weighing heavy on me now.

      I’m the second child in a family of six and I’m half Chinese. My father was in the Royal Signals and met my mother when he was stationed in Hong Kong. They met, fell in love, and when my father’s tour of duty ended he brought his Chinese bride back to Newcastle. I’m sure it was quite a culture shock for her – 1950s Newcastle was dark and industrial and a far cry from the vibe and colour of Hong Kong. Nevertheless, despite the influences around her she brought up her family in line with her strong Chinese ethos. The family bond was close and unbreakable and family always came first.

      In Chinese families you go by your number in the family: number 1 child, number 2 child, etc, and even then the boys take the lead followed by the girls. So, it was natural to me to put the number system into play when deciding who to inform first. My elder sister, Jann, took the news well, although she was clearly upset. My sister Lesley was inconsolable and crumpled on receiving the news. I said to her: ‘Please don’t do this to me!’ I was finding it hard to keep myself together and strong enough to get around everyone so all we could do was bundle her into the car and take her with us.

      The impact on my brothers, Martin and Gary, was excruciating to watch. They loved Kenneth like a son and now they had the pain of telling their own children that he had been killed.

      There was only my ‘baby sis’ Michelle left to tell then, and I was dreading it. I was so glad that Lesley was with us and could help us to comfort her because as we stood together the grief was palpable. But I could not let it take me yet. My job wasn’t finished.

      Ken’s mother was on holiday so his two sisters had the dreadful job of telling her when she returned. We did not want her holiday spoilt as she could not change anything – no one could.

      At 9am on the dot I called my boss at work. ‘Hi Stephen, it’s Lyn. I’ve got some bad news. Kenneth has died. He’s been killed in Afghanistan.’ There was silence on the end of the phone and then he said: ‘Oh my God. What are you doing ringing me?’

      I remember telling him to please be quiet and I needed to talk to him about the audit. I also recall his reply: ‘Forget the audit! What about you? I’m happy to cancel the audit. Just tell me what we can do to help you?’ There was only one answer to that – carry on with the audit. I hadn’t done all that work to have them pull out now, especially as I had spent over an hour sorting the files and the notes. It was still my responsibility and I was not going to be the excuse that let the whole team down. I made Stephen promise that it would go ahead.

      Then everything went blank.

      From the moment the messenger from the MoD left our home that morning I think the bulk of my sadness found a place СКАЧАТЬ