01/02/11 and 02/02/11

So I guess I’ll start where I left off, which was when we were dashing off to the floodlit snowboard parallel giant slalom. It’s my first time watching any snowboarding events so it was great for me. But the main story of the night was the surprise we all received when John Craig from the Army proposed to his girlfriend of 4 1/2 years, Sarah Marriott.

Sarah had been competing in the competition and whilst standing on the podium, just after she’d be awarded with her bronze medal, John went down on one knee to propose – in front of all competitors and spectators! It was such a lovely moment and of course, everybody here in Meribel is so happy and chuffed for them both. You can see the footage and an interview with the happy couple by looking under our ‘Winter Sports’ section of the website.

It was another beautiful, sunny day yesterday, but still no snow! The main event of the competition was being held in the morning – the downhill skiing race. I’m just in complete awe of these competitors who launch themselves down the mountain at such speed – not mentioning the crazy icy conditions! During training there had been a few accidents so it was going to be an interesting race, of course hoping that no more accidents would occur. Well thankfully and amazingly pretty much all competitors made it down the course with no problems and it was Nicky Porter and Matt Shepard from the Army who took gold.

What’s been really nice whilst I’ve been out here is seeing familiar faces. Nicky Porter is a dentist based in Herford, Germany and I know her quite well as Herford is my usual patch. I knew she was a fantastic skier, but I’ve got to say that she has amazed me, I didn’t realise just how incredible she was.

We also had the telemark sprint that took place yesterday with Andrew Clarke winning the second telemark event. We’ve got the third race tomorrow so it’ll be interesting to see if he comes up on top yet again!

Today, we had our own event – the Bordercross which is a race that BFBS have sponsored for the last seven years. It was held at the moonpark which is further up the mountain so for the first time since I arrived I was able to get some skiing in! Although saying that, I was pretty cautious on the slopes as it really is just so icy!

The bordercross was fantastic and so dramatic! You’re memorised watching the race as there’s twists, turns, jumps, collisions and literally anything could happen! It was the newly engaged Sarah Marriott who won for the women and Si Nicolson who got the top spot for the men. You can watch our report to see all the action.

Tomorrow is our busiest day yet with all three disciplines racing including a fun, free styling event for snowboarding. The BFBS team are now off to go ice-skating which should be interesting! I’ll let you know tomorrow!

30/01/11
Laura Hawkins

Since I joined British Forces News a year ago, the words ‘Meribel,’ ‘Combined Services’ and ‘Championships’ have been floating around quite a lot, with plenty of stories and memories of the last ten years that BFBS have covered the event.

This year, for the 60th Anniversary I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to come out to the famous Meribel with the Sports Team….our fantastic cameramen Lewis and Lee, lovely Galia our editor and of course our Sports Editor Mr Jon Knighton. I’m the newbie here, but I’m excited to have the most experienced team to work alongside.

After a very early 4am start (mornings certainly aren’t my strong point!) Galia and I made our way across to Geneva and then onto the beautiful Alpine setting of Meribel to meet the rest of the team.

Now, as we all know, it’s January, it’s the French Alps, it’s the week of the Winter Sports Championships so my expectation was to drive into a stunning winter wonderland. Is that incorrect? Well there is no getting away from the beauty of the Alps, but the winding drive up to the resort felt more like a spring morning than a January afternoon – where was all the snow?

After arriving and chatting to others, we found out it hasn’t actually snowed here for the last few weeks. Disastrous I thought – perhaps not the best start to the competition! But I was mistaken; I’ve been told by the ‘Winter Sports Experts’ that the condition and slopes are perfect for the races ahead – thank goodness for that! Let the games commence!!!

And the lack of snow certainly hasn’t affected the competition in any way. This evening, over two hundred military personnel from the Navy, RAF and Army attended the opening ceremony. It’s usually held at the Meribel Ice Skating Rink, but as we know, this year is special and the grand celebrations took place outdoors in the Stadium area. Chilly pipers in their kilts filled the resort with their music and spectators wrapped up warm and drank gluhwein. But it was the procession of torch bearers sliding down the steep mountain slope in the pitch black that impressed viewers, followed by opening speeches and then the most spectacular fireworks display lightening up the Meribel sky.

For my first evening and experience here, I was more than impressed. The atmosphere, the celebrations and the energy here tonight demonstrate what a special event this is for all who take part and I can’t wait for the competition to begin!

14/02/11

I have not met Giles Duley. One week ago I had never heard of him. Now he is rarely out of my thoughts.

I was among the first beyond the military to learn that a British photographer had been badly injured by a bomb here in Southern Afghanistan.

As it always must, such news remained unbroadcast until his family was notified.

That meant despite knowing that a fellow journalist had suffered severe and life-changing injuries, I was unable to deal with it through the familiar process of filing a reporter’s despatch.

A secret I could not share cast a long shadow and sowed doubts about my own decision to accept this assignment

I dare not mention it in calls home. Why cause my own family still more anxiety about what working here can mean?

Now the news is out and the 39-year-old who lost parts of both legs and one arm is being treated in Birmingham’s Selly Oak Hospital. I wish him the best for eventual recovery.

He had only been in the country for a couple of weeks. After a background in fashion and music, the award-winning photographer wanted to document the plight of Afghanistan’s bomb victims.

Sadly, he is not the first lensman to become one himself. Last October, New York Times photographer Joao Silva suffered similar injuries. In 2009, the Mirror’s Phil Coburn was maimed in the blast that killed his colleague Rupert Hamer, the first British reporter to die in this conflict.

Photographers run a particular risk specific to their trade. On occasions they may chance stepping away from an uncleared track to get a better shot. It is all too easy for any of us who carry a camera to get fixated on what is in the viewfinder and lose sight of the perils off-screen

Military people who bravely reconcile themselves to daily danger may have limited sympathy for civilians. After all we chose to come here.

But as John Donne said no man is an island, and every death diminishes all. Harm befalling a fellow newsgatherer reminds the rest of us of the price we might have to pay.

So like everyone else I will keep alert, heed advice, stay low, move fast and just hope for a safe return home.

24/01/11

An apology. Geoff Meade would like to say a long overdue sorry to all those camera operators over many years in network tv news that he has harried, chivvied and chuntered about.

My, how I used to grumble inwardly about the length of time it took to set up a shot. The ponderous process of checking light levels, exposure, focus…all that faffing about that seemed to hold up the simple business of getting the vital story onto videotape.

Shame on me, sometimes I even used to suspect they were delaying deliberately, just because they didn’t share my enthusiasm for the assignment, or were miffed at missing lunch.

Well now the tables- or at least the camera – has been turned. My faltering first days as a video journalist for Forces’ Broadcaster BFBS have hard-taught me new respect for the elusive skill of lensmanship.

You would think digital cameras’ advanced technology would allow you to get away with point and shoot. But that just will not cut it for professional newscast.

To offer footage focused soft, framed too wide or zooming in and out like a demented hokey-cokey may be YouTube standard.

News writing demands clarity, brevity and accuracy. Factual footage needs to be just as disciplined.

And that means using a tripod, ensuring it’s not askew by checking the inbuilt spirit level every time you move. Making certain there’s a tape in the camera, plenty of battery power, the correct audio channel selected, the microphone’s working, without the cable dangling into shot and that the interviewee – bored with all this fussing - hasn’t strayed out of frame.

That and a whole load of other variables I don’t even know about yet.

Much as I enjoy the freedom and creativity of shooting and editing your own news packages, my worry is that video journalism conspires to be best at neither.

Worries about the technology can crowd out concentration on the story. It is so easy to lose focus when stressing about focal length.

17/01/11

A surprising new tactic has been introduced in the fight against the Taliban. Not a high-tech weapon but the rattle of teacups and a cosy chat behind closed doors.

British military chiefs long worried about their lack of contact with Helmand’s female population have dispatched specially-trained women soldiers to try and get behind the burka.

Their mission is to win the confidence of the wives and daughters and try and persuade them that the NATO-backed Kabul government deserves their support.

Lieutenant Onai Gwachiwa gave up a career in publishing to join the Army. She spent a year learning Pashto, and now heads up the initiative in the former Taliban stronghold of Chah-e-Anjir.

“Everything has to be done with great cultural sensitivity,” she explained to Forces’ News.

“A male colleague will ask the head of the household if I can speak to the women. If he agrees I go inside. Once I take off my helmet and they realise I’m female, off come the veils, we sit down and have chat over endless cups of green tea.”

It’s too early to determine whether the results will produce valuable intelligence.

Lt Gwachiwa says she will often start by asking whether there is any help the women need, such as with healthcare, or education. It is all about building a long term relationship to open up an area previously totally closed to outsiders.

The forces realise that in areas where the Taliban shadow is long, being seen as too close to the enemy could present real danger.

But in Afghanistan it is the women who spend all day in and around their communities who are often the first to know when someone or something looks out of place.

To know what is coming, it often helps to look at the tea leaves

07/01/11

I had to rub my eyes when I arrived at Camp Bastion, and it wasn’t just the desert dust. My first sight of Britain’s main supply base in Helmand had been back in 2006 as UK forces first posted here in strength. And boy, has it grown.

Then it was a handful of tents, guarded by soldiers of the Parachute Regiment’s Third Battalion, isolated in the middle of a desert and otherwise protected by nothing more than a long, wire fence.

Defence Secretary John “not a bullet fired” Reid was there to meet 3 Para’s CO. Lt Col Stuart Tootal had about 600 troops to cover the whole of the province. Today, his successor has the same number to safeguard one half of one district.

The growth in the international and Afghan mission in five years is shown by how Bastion has sprawled to become a desert metropolis.

Population: 21,000 (14,000 US, 5,000 UK and 2,000 civilians)

Size: 35 sq km (21 sq miles) Britain’s biggest military camp since WW2.

Flights: 600 a day, busier than Luton or Stansted.

Supplies: 250 trucks, inc 50 fuel tankers each day.

A town of that size demands all the infrastructure you would expect; a water bottling plant, producing 15,000 gallons daily, state-of-the-art hospital, laundries, and mess halls serving over 60,000 meals daily.

For troops rotating through from the forward bases this place is the lap of luxury.

There are hot showers, flush toilets, tv, internet, international ‘phone calls and a regular postal service.

Accommodation is in prefab buildings or tents. Air conditioned and heated in winter when night temperatures can fall below freezing.

Recreation? Well there’s nowhere to go for a night out. Alcohol is strictly banned, so the military tend to make their own entertainment. A lot of that of course involves physical competition just last week, a 12-mile march – for fun?

27/09/10

Labour seem to do things somewhat differently from the Lib Dems. Today’s “Britain in the World” event wasn’t so much a debate as a comfy discussion. There were set piece speeches from members of the Shadow Cabinet on international affairs and defence, guest speakers like the Chief Executive of the Army Families Federation, and then a question and answer session with the top politicians cosied up on a sofa.

Almost nobody there was really interested in the substance of what was being said. Instead all the attention was on David Miliband for his first big public appearance since losing the leadership election to his brother.

He gave a powerful performance on stage, he joked (which always goes down well at party conferences) and he spoke like a consummate politician. If he is a man who feels hurt or damaged by one of his own it didn’t show. One observer suggested to me he wanted to give the speech of his life, just to show the party what it had missed out on. Maybe, or perhaps he deserves an Oscar, then again maybe he’s over it already.

He did appeal for party to unite behind his brother, hang on though, isn’t he supposed to be here talking about policy on the world. Oh yes. He said the most important reason they need to be unified is the “war in Afghanistan … and this country is involved in a war at the moment”. If you’re an anorak like me the very clear choice of words is quite interesting. When they were in government Labour didn’t like the W word, they preferred “conflict”. We may see tomorrow if this is one of the points where Ed & David agree or differ.

So the older Miliband rather overshadowed the last hurrah of former Defence Secretary Bob Ainsworth. Both men stayed away from political points scoring over Afghanistan, as is the convention, but Mr Ainsworth did go on the attack over the Strategic Defence and Security Review. He says it’s being rushed and shouldn’t be so secretive. “The complexity of a Strategic Defence Review should not be underestimated… there are so many different bits of this that can be got wrong, the timetable is frightening to tell you the truth”.

He became Armed Forces Minister in 2007, then two years later Defence Secretary in Gordon Brown’s emergency reshuffle that followed a series of resignations. By the time he got the top job we’d left Iraq and the dire state of the MoD finances was becoming clear. You could argue he was left to clear up at the end of the party – how well he managed that I’m sure could be discussed for hours or days. He told me today that “of course” he has regrets about his time in the ministry but, because of the great people he’d met, he wouldn’t have missed it for the world

Mr Ainsworth is a man who has occasionally drawn some, rather surprising, praise from his political opponents. Before the election Liam Fox said in Parliament of Mr. Ainsworth “When the history of this dreadful Government is written, his will be one of the more honourable mentions.” Last month Conservative MP James Gray said it was a pleasure to follow Mr Ainsworth in a debate on Afghanistan, adding “He was a member of a useless Government, but he was a first-class Secretary of State”. Ok very double edged compliments, but some will clearly miss him from the front benches when he steps down from the Shadow Cabinet early next month.

22/09/10

So the Liberal Democrat conference is over for this year, their first ever in government. It’s normally the leader who takes centre stage on the final day, but as Nick Clegg is in New York the limelight’s been shared between Vince Cable (Business Secretary) and Nick Harvey (Armed Forces Minister).

Mr Harvey’s stealing some of the attention from his more senior colleague because of Trident. Lib dem members provided everyone with a reminder that this is a serious point of difference between them and the Conservatives in an emergency debate this morning. The Lib Dems are signed up to replacing the nuclear deterrent, but they want something other than a direct replacement for Trident. Maybe smaller, maybe cheaper, maybe different technology, maybe…. A lot of maybes, and that’s why the party’s voted to push for Trident to be included in an extended strategic defence review.

I can’t see that happening, but I can’t see Lib Dem ministers terribly unhappy with this vote either. I suggested to Nick Harvey yesterday it was a “fundamental difference” between him and his Conservative boss, Liam Fox, at the MoD. He said it depends on how you defined fundamental.

This is one of the only thing the Lib Dems are prepared to fight the Conservatives on, as the Tories stand their ground. If it were to come to that theoretically it could tear the coalition apart, though it wouldn’t have to – in their deal they’ve ‘agreed to disagree’ on this one. Nick Harvey’s suggestion the big decision could be put off for a year, until after the next election, might save both parties from having to face any such crisis.

I’m not sure whether a year’s delay is really on the table, with Conservative blessing, or whether this was Nick Harvey talking up his favoured political workaround. I’m not privy to the inner machinations of the coalition, but if I get a chance I will ask Mr Fox about it in Birmingham.

I didn’t just get to talk to Nick Harvey about Trident. What was most interesting were some of his warnings about the Strategic Defence and Security Review. With tens of thousands of service personnel worried about their future he cautioned that when the review is published, it won’t have all the answers, and will in fact bring more questions. He did say it was inevitable jobs would go, and some equipment programmes. But he said the review wouldn’t ‘name names’. Instead it will set out the principles, and the scale, most of the detail he said would have to be worked out over the coming year.

20/09/10

I’ve never been to a party conference before, so this is all very new to me, but I’m not the only one. The Liberal Democrats aren’t used to the level of attention they’re getting this year, but then they’ve never been in government before.

Defence wasn’t really on the conference agenda when I signed up to come to Liverpool, it seemed a bit odd given how much political attention it’s getting right now with the Strategic Defence and Security Review. The cynic in me wondered if it was the party trying to avoid ‘difficult’ issues in the coalition, things that ordinary members are showing signs of being unhappy with their leaders about. But the party membership get some say in the agenda here, and Trident was chosen from a list of 6 possible “emergency motions”, so any concerns will get an airing on Wednesday.

The cynic in me is also not terribly popular here. On more than one occasion I’ve heard delegates complaining about journalists trying to paint the conference as having an atmosphere of “rebellion”. The fact is there are plenty of people here who are clearly not happy about the deal with the Conservatives, but it’s also fair to say the way I’ve seen it expressed falls far short of rebellion. We saw some of it put to Nick Clegg in a question and answer session yesterday, and he's clearly trying to reassure his party.

Conference started on Saturday lunchtime, and it seemed fairly quiet here through the weekend, but today the place is buzzing. We’re about an hour away from the leader’s speech, the main attraction moved from it’s traditional slot on the final day so that Nick Clegg can fly to the UN in New York. It will of course be all over the television news, the conference hall will be at its most packed for the bit you can most easily see anywhere else in the world.

What you don’t see so much on the telly is the “fringe” events. Small meetings in side rooms to discuss specific issues, no votes just a talking shop. There was a fringe meeting at lunchtime today titled “Defence Review 2010: Afghanistan and Beyond”. Just over a hundred people packed into the room to hear the thoughts of a retired Air Chief Marshall, a European researcher, and a Lib-Dem Lord who had been drafted in at the last minute to replace Armed Forces Minister Nick Harvey. Mr Harvey isn’t here, he’s at home ill, leaving my planned interview with him looking very uncertain.

The fringe meeting discussed the usual topics - Trident, Afghanistan, equipment, reserve forces, and around it all money. The one thing the panel clearly agreed on, cuts are unavoidable and they will be painful for at least some. Lord Wallace sent a message from Nick Harvey on progress of the SDSR, saying that the pieces of the puzzle had all been taken apart, but they were still trying to work out how to put them all back together, just smaller. It made me feel slightly less silly for getting a jigsaw specially made when I tried to explain the Defence Review on British Forces News a few weeks ago.

07/07/11

Completely inspired by my colleagues and their cleverly written blogs, I guess it’s about time I put some new ramblings to the web.

Once again the weeks and months pass in a blur, it truly is roving reporting in every sense. The last time I was here I was getting myself worked up in a right regal frenzy with the impending marriage of William and Kate and what a splendid day it was too – didn’t get a sniff of a chance to report on it – but the street party where I live more than made up for that – we had more bunting than London itself!

I’ve talked in previous blogs about the amount of kit us media types often have to carry around and I’m pleased to report that I’m beginning to grasp the fact that I don’t need to carry the entire office with me everywhere I go.

Mind you, it’s Sods Law I’ll eventually turn up at some press event and wish I’d picked up that spare microphone, or recorder – something always fails at the most crucial time.

There’s been a great deal of coverage in the press about the Strategic Defence and Security Review and the cut backs etc in the forces. It’s not a good time for many people, including civil servants and while I have a great deal of sympathy for those facing uncertain times, I have to confess I’ve become totally annoyed with the overuse of some of the language used to convey it all, either from defence chiefs or reporters. I’m not guilt free either, if I use the word austerity in anymore of my reports or questioning, I think I may impose my own gagging order!

Life on Salisbury Plain continues, the garrison areas that surround it are as busy as ever and although regiments and battalions as a whole aren’t deployed to Afghanistan at the moment, pockets of troops are still away. That doesn’t mean there’s no work for the remaining majority, there’s still endless training and maintenance activity taking place.

I had the privilege of meeting Major General John Lorimer recently, he’s the new Commander in charge of 3 UK Division, and while he’s based in Bulford he looks after four different brigades across the UK. It’s a big job, particularly in a time of austerity! Oops! I did it again – I’ve no hope. However, we have to admire how our military leaders who deal with the pressure and indeed the pleasure of looking after our men and woman who continue put their lives on the line for our country.

The team at BFBS Radio, TV, CSE and its own service charity fundraiser "Big Salute" continue to work incredibly hard for our audience. A personal thanks to all of you who watch, listen and share what we do.

Until the next time, catch me on Twitter @BFBSWiltshire or on facebook - just search BFBS Shirley Swain and I’ll be sure to add you.

04/02/11

What is it with everyone wishing their lives away... I’m certainly not in a rush. The amount of people commenting on the fact that they’re glad January is out of the way is a bit alien to me. I say... don’t put pressure on yourselves people, live it!
In terms of reporting, it was a slow start to the New Year – but as expected the pace has picked up pretty quick.

The biggest event on the Wiltshire patch at the moment is the fact that thousands of troops are currently on Salisbury Plain completing their final training before they deploy to Afghanistan this April.

Plenty of aircraft and a great deal of live firing can be heard if you live close by.

It’ll be 3 Commando Brigade deploying this time round, supported by troops from 7th Armoured Brigade.

It’s incredible how much training our guys and girls do and indeed all the planning required to take on operational missions – I’m constantly impressed with the professionalism of our Armed forces.

I’d be lying if I didn’t enjoy it...it’s a broadcasters dream to capture all the whizzes and bangs and indeed talk to individuals about the amazing work they do.

Of late however, I’ve taken to wearing layers... and lots of them. Standing around waiting and watching for interview opportunities really does allow the cold to get to your bones...it’s not a great look, but I think I’ve just about sorted out the best warm kit to wear.

As a ‘roving’ reporter type, I have to carry a lot of equipment around with me... and so to introduce you to my ever increasing kit list: one stills camera, laptop, recorder, tripod and camcorder – I can’t be missed these days; I’m the one that looks like a transformer!

Happy February and long may it last.... ;)

30/11/10

So the big chill has set in then… I have to confess I’m not a great lover of the cold and while I love reporting on our fantastic forces community, I do get the grump when the weather isn’t on side.

It’s been as busy as ever, with lots of reporting going on since my last blog. However, I want to say a huge thanks to the team at the Army Powerlifting Championships at Shorncliffe last week, at which ‘despite the coldest gym in the whole of the British Army’, I managed to witness a superb day of huffing and puffing as well as a few cheeky little giggles – not resisting the temptation here to say ‘tankini’.

After taking a good 24-hours to thaw out I managed to grab myself a couple of days off, before being back on the case this week.

So far, Salisbury Plain has seen only a sifting of snow, but if the hyped up weather reports are anything to go by, we could see at least fifty inches by the end of the week! I am prepared though, sleeping bag, shovel and a weeklong ration of chocolate already in the car.

The run up to Christmas is a busy one, not least for the mounting invites of Christmas lunches and nights out to get along to, but also catching up with the families of troops currently on deployment around the world – huge thanks to all of those so far for making contact with me – I’m now looking forward to collecting your messages in time for your loved ones for Christmas.

Just want to quickly mention forces charities of which there are many, but I want to big up Scotty’s Little Soldiers, a charity for children of the fallen. Calendars and wristbands are currently on sale in the 2 RTR PRI shop on Tidworth Camp, or checkout their website for the latest news www.scottyslittlesoldiers.co.uk.

They’re also looking for volunteers and fundraisers, please do contact them if you can help.

Finally, visit www.audioboo.fm and type BFBS in the search area. Here you can check out some choice cuts of news, views and features recently broadcast on BFBS Radio 1 and 2.

08/11/10

There’ll be some big celebrations to come over the next two weeks… I’ll be joining 42 Squadron, 32 Regiment Royal Artillery this evening as they return home after a six-month tour of Afghanistan. They do a great job using their Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) to help keep an eye on what’s happening on the ground – a great spying tool as well and has helped to save many lives.

It’ll be a poignant few days too, as we all fall silent on Remembrance Day this coming Thursday. I’ll be at Bulford Garrison Church in Wiltshire, where no doubt I’ll be shedding more than a few tears as we all think about those we have lost in conflict.

I’m then off to Thorney Island on Saturday to spend some time with the families of 21 Engineers. It’s then over to 5 Scots in Canterbury on Sunday, both to collect some morale boosting messages for loved in Afghanistan.

Finally, next week I’ll be reporting from Taunton, a little out of my patch, but never the less it’ll be a great event. 40 Commando has recently returned from a very tough six-month tour of Afghanistan – tragically losing many of their own. There will be a medal parade at Norton Manor Camp, followed by a special march through the city of Taunton the following day – I predict more tears – me included.

06/09/10

Phew, into another week already…and it’s going to be a busy one!

Later this week, I’ll be joining some of the families of 2 Royal Welsh in Tidworth as they embark in a spot of painting and decorating. Dubbed the DIY Wives, they’ll be helping to brighten up their welfare office while their husbands are currently deployed to Afghanistan.

I’ll be watching military history being made this coming Thursday, when the former DLO site in Andover is officially declared the home of the British Army. Renamed Marlborough Lines, the new HQ for Land Forces will be opened by the Minister for Armed Forces, Nick Harvey MP and the Commander in Chief General Sir Peter Wall.

On the same day, it will be a case of Ready, Steady, Cook, as the Armies finest chefs go into cooking battle to compete for the top title in the prestigious Army Field Catering Competition – always a great event with some fabulous food to be had.

25/08/10

Back and well rested then after a lovely holiday, and being an extremely nosey person, I am triumphant in the fact that I managed not to switch on my beloved blackberry once!

Being based on the Salisbury Plain area, there will be some difficult and worrying times ahead for many of our military families over the next six months, with several regiments already deployed and further more to deploy to Afghanistan in the next week or so.

This Saturday a brand new charity will be launching called ‘Scotty’s Little Soldiers’, which has been set up by Nichola Scott, the widow of Cpl Lee Scott who was tragically killed while serving with 2 Royal Tank Regiment in Afghanistan last year.

If you’re about in Tidworth, please show your support and pop along to Tidworth Community Centre on Wylye Road, where there will be a special event taking place to officially launch the charity, from 2pm.

There’ll be live music, a disco, and loads of fun things to do for the little ones.

BFBS’s Chris Pratt as well as little ole me will be there too – so do come and say hello and show your support!

28/12/11

Well Christmas in Helmand is over and what a surreal experience it was too. A fortnight ago I left Britain as it was well and truly in the build up to Christmas. Shops bustling with shoppers, streets covered in over the top lights, with each house trying to out do the other. But when I arrived in Afghanistan I was greeted by sunshine, blue skies, sand storms and the sound of helicopters buzzing above my head. Not exactly in keeping with a traditional British Christmas.

But enter any office or communal building here in Bastion and you’re soon reminded that; to quote Noddy Holder… It’s Christmas!!!! It’s amazing to see the sheer quantity of tinsel and decorations out here in theatre. Cheesy decor complimented with BFBS blasting out a plethora of festive tunes is enough to ensure that no one could possibly forget what time of year it is.

However the Christmas week started on a rather more serious note though. On Tuesday I was on standby to welcome the Prime Minister to Helmand. But due to the adverse weather conditions here in Bastion his flight was diverted to Kandahar. This then meant for the next three days I became an expert on the weather conditions in and around Bastion, and how the dust affected the visibility of pilots. It even at one point threatened to halt some soldiers from getting home for a festive R&R. Luckily however by Thursday evening the weather had improved enough to get everyone home, even if the RAF had to lay on extra flights. Although after speaking to one person in the cookhouse this evening it took some over 30 hrs to get home!!

Christmas day itself was one I’ll never forget. For a start I woke up without a hangover and didn’t touch a drop of booze all-day…odd. The day began by visiting the guard towers that protect Camp Bastion. These huge concrete structures are an austere and cold place at the best of times, but seeing the soldiers on guard on Christmas morning you couldn’t help but feel for them. The Commander Joint Force Support (Afghanistan), Brigadier ‘Mitch’ Mitchell toured the watch towers giving out mince pies and chocolate bars to all of those on duty, a simple act but one that I’m sure will have been very much appreciated. When you’re stood on guard duty (or “Stag” as its better known within the military) you can at times feel isolated and forgotten as you observe your arcs. Imagine the feeling when scanning the horizon on Christmas morning, staring out of a grey concrete tower, dwelling about all the things you’re missing out on. So therefore a mince pie and chat can help take you’re mind off those pangs of homesickness, even if only for a minute or two.

The next event was the much-awaited festive feast that is the traditional Christmas dinner. Here in Bastion Two the cookhouse was catering for over two thousand soldiers, and they’d even laid on live entertainment for the troops. As they scoffed their turkey, sprouts and stuffing they had the pleasure of being entertained by Bastions very own Elvis impersonator! A member of the Sri Lankan catering staff had donned his own Elvis jumpsuit and was performing the Kings hits much to amusement of the troops. Although I’m not sure of how much of an Elvis purist he is, as at one point he did stray into a Cliff Richard medley. Surreal doesn’t come close!

The final part of the day was again a first for me, a charity spinning class on Christmas day. Major Dave Prew the Bastion Quartermaster had organised three festive spinning classes to raise money for the William Rhodes appeal. So far he’s raised over $5000, with over $3000 raised on Christmas day alone. If you would like to add to this total please go to http://thewilliamrhodesappeal.com/ .

31/08/11

The month of August I’ve been told is traditionally a quiet month for BFBS. As the majority of units are on leave over the period it can be a struggle to find stories. Whilst the reporters here are all very keen to get out and about as much as possible, experience has taught to me to be careful of what you wish for. Two years ago when I was in Afghanistan the month of August was also a very quiet one. I was a Fire Support Team commander attached to the 3 SCOTS (The Black Watch) Battle group, during the month we were on standby to support any incidents that occurred during the run up to the countries elections. Not a glamorous role and one that we were not asked to deploy on. But this ended on the 30th August. What follows is my diary entry from the period.

Be careful what you wish for is a phrase that I’ve muttered many times over the last five months and I stand by it now more than ever.

Operation TOR KAT saw A Company insert by Chinook into FOB WAHID last Saturday night (30th Aug). The purpose of the OP was to support the Welsh Guards in the removal of several crossing points along the Shamalan Canal. The canal is the stretch of water that separates the CAT Triangle (northern Nad-e-Ali) from the area of Babaji. We spent Sunday 30th in WAHID conducting battle prep and liaising with the Welsh Guards ahead of deploying into the area.

The basic scheme of manoeuvre was that we would patrol to the west of the canal into the CAT before taking up a blocking role to the west of crossing point 7 allowing the Royal Engineers to deny the crossing to the enemy.

In the early hours of the morning of the 31st we would set off. But first we had a quick swim in the canal and rested. This was also accompanied with Cpl Steele (one of my Mortar Fire Controllers) being involved the most bizarre accidents. Steely was lying under the shade of a HESCO wall when a helmet that was resting on top of the wall was blown off by a gust of wind landing on his face and breaking his nose. So even before we had stepped out of the FOB we had our first casualty. I took the decision to leave Cpl Steele and his broken nose and push Sgt Gus Miller (my senior Mortar Fire Controller) forward with 1 Platoon rather than his usual place in the Company Tac alongside myself and the Company Commander. Whilst Cpl Steele was not happy with the decision, it was the sensible and right decision to make. This twist of fate would become even more poignant as the events of the next twenty-four hours unfolded.

At 0100 on the 31st we set off 1Plt, 3Plt Tac and 2 Plt. The plan was for 2Lt David Parsons and 1 Platoon to lead us down in a company snake and then take up a position of over watch in numbered compound 20 before 3 and 2 platoons formed a block. 1 Platoon would then become the reserve.

The insertion tab went without too many dramas although the constant climbing in and out of drainage ditches and wading through flooded maize fields did wear a little thin. The threat of IEDs and booby-trapped compounds was extremely high as we were pushing into the area that had previously been used by the insurgents to engage crossing point 7. As we approached the objective our progressed slowed as the Valons (metal detectors) took over. 1 Platoon pushed into compound 20 and 3 Platoon to the South. Tac took up position to the East of the objective. Whilst it was a good position for balance of the company our arcs were poor and we immediately realised that we would have to relocate. During our tab into the area the enemy activity had been limited, but by 0700 the intelligence was suggesting that it was beginning to ramp up. We then received intelligence suggesting that an RPG (rocket propelled grenade) attack was imminent. This was shortly followed by the sound of 3 RPGs followed by bursts of small arms fire.

During our tour in Afghanistan we have had many RPGs fired at us with little effect and so therefore we had little cause for concern. At this time I was sat on a rooftop with my FAC (Forward Air Controller) Sgt Ross McBride and the A Company Commander Major Matt Munro. I shouted down to LBdr “Taff” Price (my second in command) to get hold of Gus on the radio and instruct him to try and call mortars in on the firing points, but he got no reply. This immediately struck me as unusual, Gus was usually the first man on the net when we were in a contact, but this time he was silent. There seemed to be little information coming from his compound and I was getting limited information over my personal radio. After five minutes of trying to get a grid reference of the firing points I saw the Doc (Capt Will Charlton) putting on his Bergen, I then heard that 1 Platoon had taken a direct hit from one of the RPGs and that they had taken multiple casualties. Suddenly I realised why Gus wasn’t on the radio. The Doc and his force protection crashed out of the compound and towards the incident. After much frustration I got a firing point grid reference and bring in mortars (I couldn’t see the target so had to rely on information relayed to me over the radio, a risk I had to take).

I was then allocated two Apache Attack Helicopters and as they came into the overhead I was told that we had 2 x KIA, 2 x CAT C and 1 x CAT B casualties. My worst fears were then confirmed when I heard Gus’ ZAP number over the radio as one of those that had been killed. The other was Private Kev Elliot. The surviving casualties were extracted by MERT Chinooks and then the 2 x KIA by American Blackhawks callsign PEDRO.

I broke the news to Ross on the roof of our compound. Taff and Gunner Danny Venter had by this point figured out Gus’ fate but the final member of my team LBdr Willie Ewens was deployed forward with 3 platoon and had to be told by their platoon commander.

It was a surreal morning and I didn’t expect to lose another member of my team and certainly not to an RPG. As the Blackhawks took Gus and Kev’s bodies away we were able to use imagery from a Hermes 450 Unmanned Aerial Vehicle to locate and kill 2 x insurgents close to the firing point, hopefully the RPG team that killed Gus.

As we began to reposition the full details of the incident emerged. Gus and the others had been on the roof of compound 20 when the RPG (fired from approx 250m West) had impacted on the roof. A one in a million shot. Gus and Kev Elliot had taken the majority of the blast with David Parsons in between them amazingly taking almost none. Sgt Eddie Nichol had also been seriously injured but would survive. Gus had sustained a large injury to the back of his neck. He would have died within minutes of the RPG strike. The medics did get to Gus before he died, but he knew that he couldn’t be saved and that he was bleeding out. He instructed them to leave him and help the others who had been injured. An extraordinary act, by an extraordinary man.

After the MERT and the PEDRO callsigns had extracted the casualties we moved forward to gain a better position of over watch. At our new position with 2 Platoon I had clear arcs to the West in the direction of the earlier firing points.

The following day it soon became clear that there had been a change of plan and we were to withdraw back to the crossing point and move back to Wahid in a vehicle move. As we began to formulate our plan we were engaged from the west from a series of firing points. GPMG gunners and Javelin engaged identified targets approximately 300 m away and intelligence suggested that they were grouping together to prepare for an attack on our position. It also became apparent that they knew that we were preparing to withdraw. I called in mortars and adjusted them onto a likely enemy forming up point. Major Munro by this point had pushed back towards the crossing leaving a section of 2 Platoon and my Fire Support Team as the forward line of friendly troops. I received a message over the radio from Major Munro that it was to be a “robust withdrawal”. I called in 5 minutes of mortar fire and began to move. We hurriedly scrambled out of the compound conscious that we were the last to withdraw and it was clear the enemy were keen to get on our tails. I increased the rate of the mortar fire to cover our withdrawal and the last mortars were falling as we approached to the Mastiff vehicles that would take us back to the relative safety of FOB WAHID.

The Battle Damage Assessment and Intelligence we received when we returned to the FOB suggested that my mortar fire had been accurate and the Taliban in the area had suffered significant casualties.

That evening we were extracted back to Kandahar by Chinook support helicopters. As a parting gift the Welsh Guards presented Major Munro with a box of cigars in way of a thank you for the support we had given them and losses we had suffered. Outside the Black Watch accommodation the following day I sat with Major Munro and almost became a casualty myself following the smoking of the gifted cigars. Whilst I had taken up “operational smoking” on the tour, I was clearly not ready to take on Cuba’s finest.

Operation TOR KAT and the cigars that turned me green are mentioned in Toby Harnden's book Dead Men Risen (P474).

01/07/11

Well after nine months of lectures, wearing jeans to work and not shaving. The dream is over, I’m no longer a student.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been busy finishing course work and sitting exams, and of course enjoying my final few nights of cheap student beer. But alas all good things have to end and the course is now over.

But what have I exactly learnt over the last year? Well my cooking has certainly improved and I’ve learnt to fend for myself in the big bad civilian world. Then there’s all the content of the course that I’ve had to take on board, which has not been as simple as I first thought. Turns out it is quite difficult to teach a dog new tricks, but hopefully I’ve just about managed it.

But now for the tricky part, taking what I’ve learnt and hopefully carving out a new career. In the current climate clearly job hunting is somewhat a thorny issue and something that I had not been looking forward to. So imagine my delight when I received a phone call from British Forces News offering me a job!

So here I am now writing my first blog post as a BFBS employee. It’s been a long and sometimes stressful road but I suppose I can now say that my resettlement is over. I left the Army, re-trained and I’ve now found employment.

Not that it was quite as simple as that, there have been times over the last year when I’ve really wondered whether I’d made the right decision. But I always concluded that for me it was the right time to leave the forces and I’ll always look back on my service with great fondness. The support I received during my resettlement was also incredibly important. With advice from the Career Transition Workshops and my local resettlement Officer it made the process a lot less daunting. Then of course throughout the year with the financial support that was available. Without my Resettlement Grant and Enhanced Learning Credits then the last year would have been a lot harder.

07/03/11

February has passed in the blink of an eye and I can hardly believe that we are already into the second week of March. By the end of this month I'll have been a poor student for six whole months how time flies when you’re living on beans on toast.

The end of the course is now worryingly close and looming ominously over the horizon. Over the last few weeks there seems to have been a real shift in the focus for the course. Previously we were all happy in our exclusive Cardiff student bubble, but now everyone is beginning to shift their attention to their work placements and employment after the course finishes in June.

Over the last few weeks this new focus has meant that for me personally I've been very keen to get out and about as much as possible in an attempt to put my new skills to good practise.

Two weeks ago I travelled to Brecon to cover Ex COLD DRAGON, a live firing Exercise run by 1 ROYAL WELSH. A great day was spent filming and interviewing some of the soldiers, including some of my former colleagues from 40th Regt Royal Artillery. Whilst it was great to go back on exercise for the day and reminisce about my former job, I didn't envy watching the troops tabbing over the Welsh Hills.

I also managed to sneak over to Tidworth to film the arrival of B (Rorke's Drift) Company 2 Royal Welsh back from Afghanistan (I confess I did have to miss a lecture in order to get there in time shocking behaviour). Covering the event was a great experience and a day that taught me a lot about how to deal with the media scrum at this kind of event.

It also gave me a great opportunity to chat to established journalists who were there covering the day for a number of different organisations, including the extremely professional and dedicated Shirley Swain from BFBS.

26/01/11

Well, my first exam is over. After a week of cramming and swotting in the library, I'm glad to say my first exam since starting University is done and dusted. Did I pass? I don't know. I won't find out for another two weeks or so, but I'm quietly confident. Although that usually means I'm setting myself up for a fall, but hopefully not. It was very odd being back in exam conditions. A couple of hundred students all sat in rows of desks, with stern invigilators patrolling up and down, and despite my best wishes the examiner didn't leave the room for a brew leaving the answers on the front desk.

I'm currently balancing my University course with training for the London Marathon (www.justgiving.com/james-banks if you're feeling generous) so after a hectic day of producing two radio shows this afternoon I had to cycle home and then head out for a training run. The training is starting to pick up a little pace now, on Sunday morning I set out for a leisurely half-marathon around Cardiff. I didn't recce the route as well as I maybe should and I ended up running up every single brutal hill between Cardiff and the M4. After hobbling home I headed North to watch the Army Rugby League team take on The Valley Cougars. It was the first time that I had deployed out as a solo video journalist. So off I went with tripod, camera and a range of fancy and confusing equipment. When I arrived at the ground I was surprised to see some soldiers from my old Regiment lining up for the Army Team. I think they were as surprised as I was. Firstly I had to explain to them that they no longer needed to call me sir and secondly explain why I was carrying a video camera.

It was a really close and exciting match and very enjoyable to report on. If you want to know the score then you can visit www.jamesbanksdefence.wordpress.com to watch the highlights. Although the report won't be assessed (luckily) it did give me a good opportunity to get out and gain some real experience, make mistakes and learn from them.

14/12/10

Well the festive season is now upon us. In every Regiment or sub-unit of the British Army, young subalterns will be battling the festive social marathon and attempting to simply survive. Fighting off hangovers and helping to decorate their mess to the standard demanded of a not so young PMC (President of the Messing Committee). The same young officers will then be ordered to the Sergeants mess to play games with the senior Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs).

These games will usually end in the humiliation of said young officers, most probably through foul play and cheating on the side of the Regimental Sergeant Major's team (not that I'm biased).

Then of course there is the Christmas lunch. Where all the Officers in the Regiment serve the soldiers, usually wearing a silly hat whilst trying to avoid the flying sprouts. But the part I'm missing the most is not being on duty for the night of Junior NCOs party.

The role of the Orderly Officer is usually to ensure that the party has ended when it should do and that the bar is closed on time. It's not usually the soldiers that cause the most amusement at these events, although I did hear of a particularly poor show by a certain newly promoted NCO in Northern Ireland last week. The highlight for me was always the wives and girlfriends; they usually provided the most entertainment. My god, how those girls can put away the Bacardi Breezers.

Now that I'm a civilian I won't have the pleasure of ducking from sprouts, being bullied by Sergeants and dealing with WAGs that refuse to leave the Junior NCOs mess. I did however have a brief reminisce last week, attending a Christmas ball courtesy of the Royal Logistics Corps. But this year I've not had to deal with the daily fuzzy head and prolonged period of festive madness that is traditional with the Armed Forces. Although I must confess I am writing this after far too much house red last night after attending the Help for Heroes Carol Concert. Will I ever learn?

Tomorrow night we're all heading out as a course for a festive meal before we finish for Christmas. Clearly I’ll be aiming to get my lecturers completely rangooned. Perhaps I'll instigate some Sergeants Mess themed games to spice things up?

Or maybe, I'll remember that I'm supposed to the Fatherly figure of the course. Quietly slurping away and forgetting all that I’ve learnt about the evils of sinking bucket loads of overly priced house wine.

12/11/10

Unless you've been living under a rock this week you'll be aware that university tuition fees are somewhat headline news at the moment. No, I'm not about to condone the actions of the moronic crowd that stormed Millbank last week and no, I wasn't there!

I doubt there were many post-graduate students amongst the crowd that day, as we are all too busy to take a day trip to London. That, and the fact that I don't want to waste anytime missing a course that has cost me around six thousand pounds.

But I'm one of the lucky ones. The Army paid for me to get a very mediocre undergraduate degree. Which at the time I did not appreciate at all, and maybe if I'd of been paying for it I might have worked a little harder? After chatting to my fellow post grads this week I've realised once again that I am one of the lucky few.

After completing nine years of pensionable service I received a resettlement grant, which has enabled me to fund myself for a year of study. This coupled with the enhanced learning credits that have already paid £2000 towards the cost of my course has enabled me to hopefully leave in June with little or no debt. This is vastly different to a lot of my colleagues who are taking out large loans to fund themselves over the forthcoming months, and as a result of these expenses we all take our course very seriously.

I certainly don't think University should be a privilege reserved for the wealthy upper classes, but I do appreciate that we have lived beyond our means for too long. If we still lived in an elitist society similar to that which existed a hundred years ago then I certainly wouldn't have a degree and definitely wouldn’t have been allowed entry into Sandhurst, except maybe to deliver the milk. So for that I am extremely grateful. But I do wonder if sometimes we take things for granted and as a result don't appreciate them as much as we should.

I don't know what the answer is to our current financial storm, but I am certain of one thing. We will not find the solution by smashing windows, storming buildings and throwing fire extinguishers from rooftops.

02/11/10

The blogosphere has well and truly got it's claws into me. This blog is now one of four that I contribute to weekly. A year ago my only daily interaction with technology was logging onto my DII account (the military computer network) and ignoring emails from the various senior Officers in my Regiment.

Then I visited Cardiff University for the first time where I was told that I needed to embrace all things geeky. To me, blogs and twitter had been something that Stephen Fry and Lilly Allen did, certainly not the realm of a Captain in the Royal Regiment of Artillery. So after speaking to the students in Cardiff I logged onto Twitter and began to immerse myself into the world of online social media.

So now almost exactly a year later I Tweet during lectures, I write blog posts concerning the future of Journalism (www.jamesedwardbanks.wordpress.com). I try and make sensible observations about defence issues or simply about ladies knitting hats for soldiers in Afghanistan (www.jamesbanksdefence.wordpress.com ).

But of course the most important blog is my British Forces News blog! Although I'm not assessed on this one so it does tend to be less constructive, apologies.

18/10/10

Apologies for the lack of posts over the last few weeks but I've been pre-occupied by the whirlwind that has been the first few weeks of my course. Suddenly I've had to grasp the concepts of not only traditional Journalism but the emerging field that is social media.

I've always thought that I've been fairly current when it comes to the internet, but over the last few weeks I've realised that I've been living in the dark ages! We are encouraged to use Twitter and all manner of Internet tools as well as Tweet during lectures (tweetingbanksy if you’re interested!) Coming from an organisation where the use of mobile phone is very much frowned upon during lectures or meetings, I’m now faced with being told off for not playing with my mobile.

As part of the course we are assigned fields of Journalism to follow and develop. For example; Politics, Crime, Education etc. Strangely enough I've been assigned defence. My first story has been following the Cambrian Patrol and in particular the debut of a team of German Army reservists.

I met up with them at the home of 104 Regt RA(V) in Newport where they had been staying and interviewed to them before they departed for Sennybridge. I then interviewed them again over a beer in Cardiff Bay when they had returned from the event. They were slightly disheartened not to have completed the patrol but were keen to attempt the challenge again next year. I can officially announce that the mighty Welsh terrain and "baby’s heads" defeated the German Army! If you don't know what baby’s heads are then I suggest you take a walk through the Welsh hills at night. When you get bored of picking yourself up off the ground after tripping over the large clumps of grass you'll understand what they are.

I also drove up to Sennybridge last Wednesday to watch one of the stands on the patrol. I spoke to some of the Directing Staff and gathered some audio to accompany the interviews. The stand I went to see was the night ambush and I managed to record some really good audio of machine gun fire whilst I tried to describe the scene. I asked the D.S how the foreign teams had performed and which teams had impressed them the most. I was surprised to hear that apparently Bristol University Officer Training Corps had impressed, these students are getting everywhere! Well done Bristol, I’m not sure if Wales UOTC entered a team but if they did I’m sure they were as equally impressive.

23/09/10

Reality is now finely kicking in. I picked up my NUS card yesterday from the Students’ Union, less than a week to go until I become a full time student. But even more worrying than the prospect of becoming a stinking tax dodging student is the fact that in exactly one week I hit the big three zero. Most of my friends are looking forward to the conclusion of their twenties as it means that they are awarded an extra half a minute in their Army personal fitness test. But as my last day in the Army is the day after my birthday, I very much doubt I'll manage to squeeze in a quick PFT and experience the luxury of the full eleven minutes. Not that I've ever needed it of course!

I'd thought that I wasn't too apprehensive by the dirty thirties approaching, but I must confess over the last few weeks I’ve had a few wobbles. A couple of weekends ago I joined up with a group of Army chaps to watch a Rugby match in order to celebrate a former colleagues thirtieth. It was only when I left them that I realised I was in fact a little concerned at the prospect of hitting this next landmark. After the conclusion of Bath Vs London Irish I jumped onto the train and began to brood over my current situation. I've always been fairly objective about the fact that I'm leaving a secure job to pursue my new career, but it was only on the 18.13 to London Paddington that I began to truly panic about the bigger picture. The prospect of being an unemployed thirty year old student with very little to his name suddenly hit me. If I was remaining in the Army then I would currently be living a very comfortable lifestyle, with few debts, looking to buy a house, upgrading the car and trying to work out what unnecessary gadget to buy next. I must also confess it has crossed my mind on more than one occasion the thought of reconsidering my departure from the Army. Never to the point where I've thought seriously about signing my kit back out, but it has made me realise how easy it would be to walk back into a secure military career. Every time I think about getting back into uniform I soon realise that my uncertain financial future is the only thing that I find daunting and I soon snap out of it. Luckily the prospect of a new and exciting career coupled with moving into the unknown always re-ignites my enthusiasm (that and the prospect of fresher’s week!)

But unfortunately Fresher’s week isn’t all about drinking your own weight in beer whilst dressed as a school girl, there’s also a more serious side. Firstly I have to begin paying my fees, which is a rather thorny subject to say the least. Luckily being a service leaver I am somewhat at an advantage over my fellow students as the Army will contribute to my fees through the Enhanced Learning Credits scheme. I don’t think it’s widely known but this scheme will help you financially for up to ten years after you’ve left the service and for this assistance I am very grateful. But the most worrying aspect of next week is that I have to meet my shorthand lecturer. On the first day we have a meeting so that she can assess the progress we have made on the worksheets that were sent to us earlier this summer. I am a little concerned as it all still looks like squiggles and lines to me, but I’m hoping that it all falls into place over the next few days – fingers crossed.

Sorry this week’s blog is rather shorter than normal, but I am actually very concerned by the standard of my shorthand and I must get back to practising my lines and squiggles. Oh and of course I’ve got to go and pick up my school girl outfit.

10/09/10

I am now one step closer from being completely civilianized or maybe civilised? Last Wednesday I returned to my old regiment in Northern Ireland to have my final medical and hand my ID card in (what a liberating experience). For the last two months I have been considering myself a bona fide civilian, so to return to my old barracks and to be addressed as sir and acknowledging salutes again felt very odd. But it did give me the opportunity to say some final farewells and submit my last JPA claim. I’d like to say that things hadn’t changed in Northern Ireland since I left two months ago, but as I was driven back to the airport I was concerned by what I had seen in Lisburn. When I left in June, the soldiers appeared in good spirits, but this time the mood was somewhat different. They seemed somewhat haunted by a new evil sprouting up within the country. I am of course referring to the Quarter Masters new moustache! Scary indeed, some people say that the atmosphere in Northern Ireland is in danger of reverting back to that of the troubles. Well with that moustache I know at least one person who’s trying to re-live the seventies! I’m only jealous as my moustache turns ginger, good on you QM.

I’ve also taken one step closer to becoming a student this week as I have made the move down to Cardiff. My parents have finally managed to re-claim their guest bedroom and shake off their 30 (nearly) year old son. I’ve moved into a lovely terraced house, about a ten minute walk from the University. Those of you who have been reading my blogs will be glad to know there are plenty of takeaways nearby and I won’t have to rely too heavily on my own cooking. Although last night I did benefit from the culinary skills of my pole dancing instructor housemate, she’s clearly a woman of many talents! My other house mate and land lady is a Mortgage Consultant, not quite as exotic, but I’m assured her cooking is just as good. I think the offer of her homemade lasagne last night was due to a previous conversation when I expressed my excitement about learning to cook scrambled eggs. The two girls looked at each other and said “he’s not even joking is he?!”

I must say I’ve been pleasantly surprised by Cardiff so far, good bars, good restaurants and I managed to coincide my move here with the first Twenty-twenty Cricket match against Pakistan.
Despite the early rain it turned out to be an excellent day out, I particularly enjoyed the cries from the crowd of “no ball” every time Pakistan bowled.

This will be the first month when I will try and live to my new student budget; it’s already not looking too promising. I’ve realised how hard it is to have a cheap week when you can’t simply hide in the Officers Mess and spend no money. I used to be able to leave for the weekend with the same money in my wallet that was left over from the previous Sunday. But without the safe haven of the Mess and the reliance on someone else feeding you it’s not easy to stop the pounds pouring out of your wallet. Yesterday I ventured into the local Lidl supermarket for the first time, I think my single officer opulent spending in Waitrose has been replaced by Lidl – how the mighty have fallen. Before the end of the year I think soup will be regularly appear on the menu. Unfortunately I don’t mean Single Officer Unnecessary Purchases, oh to be a carefree Captain once again!

24/08/10

CV cracked! Shorthand..? Not so much! Luckily my course doesn’t start until the end of September, so I still have some time. Although I did have a rather disturbing dream the other night which involved getting told off for not having prepared properly. But then again I once dreamt I was getting married to Kylie and that never happened, so fingers crossed.
Whilst I haven’t been making great gains in my academic progress, my transition to becoming a self-reliant civilian is going from strength to strength. Although the Army might not be the safest of career choices, you are very much spoilt by the levels you are looked after and pampered whilst not on operations. Clearly this results in a slightly high and dry feeling when you’ve handed back your uniform. Serving soldiers and officers might not agree with this, but I think anyone who has left will appreciate the fact that life in barracks is a fairly straight forward one.

What do I mean by all of this? No, I’m not taking a bribe from the Army retention centre; I’m merely keen to illustrate the reasons why I’m such a bad cook!

Up until the end of June I could count the number of meals I had cooked from scratch on one hand. During my formative years in the Army’s Sixth Form College we were fed meals such as “dog burgers” by the Grems (our affectionate term for the dinner ladies). During this time my only two experiences of cooking were putting a Dairy Milk bar between slices of bread to make chocolate toasties, and getting caught in the girl’s kitchen. I confess I wasn’t there to show off my culinary skills! It did however cook up a storm with the matron!

Next I moved onto studying for my degree at the Royal Military College of Science. Where again, I wasn’t allowed to follow the normal path of beans and pasta, but instead forced to eat in the Officers Mess. So once more my gastronomic skills weren’t put to the test. But it was at this time I learnt the value of cooking for prospective girlfriends. I apologise now to any unfortunate ladies that were unlucky enough to sample my Andalusian Chicken (yes I’m afraid you weren’t the only one I cooked that for). Then of course there was Sandhurst were I spent a lot of time cooking for myself, albeit it boil in the bag rations! I have since tried to cook a ration pack for one particular lucky lady, all I’ll say is... Menu D didn’t go down too well!!

So having been fed and sheltered by the Army since I was sixteen I have realised that I need to pull the proverbial thumb out and learn my way around the kitchen. I did at one point consider using my re-settlement learning credits to fund a residential cookery course. But then I discovered how expensive my university course fees were and I had to re-assign every penny. That does somewhat tenuously lead me onto the subject of education and preparing yourself for the big bad outside world.

When I joined the Army I thought I would make a full career as a soldier and as a result I must confess I never paid much attention to the funding available for education. After making many visits to the education centre in Lisburn I have finally acknowledged all of the opportunities and funding available for the most random and diverse courses. To that end I would seriously recommend that any serving soldier/officer reading this to take time out of your day and go and take a walk around your local centre. I would say even more so to my fellow officers. For the following reasons:

Firstly, it will help you to educate the soldiers under your command. Secondly, a soldier’s career usually allows them to gain more vocational qualifications than an officer so therefore spending some of your leave educating yourself will do no harm to your CV. Finally, your boss will be impressed! Pop in after lunch, have a walk around, grab a coffee then head back to the mess for a snooze! Textbook!

09/08/10

Yesterday I agreed with BFBS that I would contribute to their newly revamped website in the form of a Blog. “Why?” you may ask. Well if you have read my brief Biog, then you will see that I am in the process of a career change. This time last year I was on OP HERRICK 10 as a Fire Support Team Commander and now I’m preparing to return to University to re-train as a journalist.
Therefore the good people at BFBS thought it might be interesting for me to share my experiences in my period of transition from Soldier to Journalist (via being a 30 year old student).

At the time of writing this first entry I’m on a train returning from the funeral of an old friend who was killed by a suicide bomber in Iraq last month. Why should I share this with you? Well firstly whilst my friend was working for a private security company and not as a soldier it highlights the fact that clearly Iraq is still in a rather delicate situation (don’t worry I’m not getting political). Secondly funerals always make me realise how rubbish we all are at staying in touch with old friends. Today I met up with probably a dozen people who I had not seen for years and whilst I might not include them in my closest circle of friends they are all people who I would consider to be good friends. The majority of these friends are, or have been, in the Military. Now if I can’t stay in touch with people who have the same job as me then how on earth am I going to maintain old friendships when I’m a lowly civvy?

This revelation about my lack of social skills brings me onto tonight’s activity. I’m heading into London to catch up with my Company Commander from OP HERRICK and an ITV reporter who was embedded with us on OP PANCHAI PALANG (someone who has been extremely helpful in offering me advice in my new career). So the chat tonight over a beer or three will pretty much some up my state of mind at the moment. One half of me is keen to discuss and gain advice about my new career whereas the other half is more than happy to spin dits and recall stories about the good old days!

Well that’s all for my first Blog, I hope you enjoyed it and it either helped you to nod off or perhaps gave you some food for thought. Over the next few months I’ll try and keep my Blog regularly updated. I’ll try and talk about the resettlement process and the issues I come across and not too much about my student antics, but if you want to find out about those you’ll have to follow me on Twitter!

Exercise Ascari Thunder - Day 6

A quick jump in a PUMA took me back to Nairobi, an overnight flight back to London and on to Belfast. Home sweet home. But I’d go back to Kenya tomorrow!

Fiona Weir, Forces News …………AFRICA!

Exercise Ascari Thunder - Day 4

03:00 Boom , boom, ratatatatattat boom…it would seem the final assault had begun and the realisation as to why I never became a soldier dawned on me along with the splendid sunrise.

Hoping out of bed I realised I needed a wee…I was in the middle of the Africa in a Mosquito Igloo. Where was the loo?

Yep you guessed it, I was going to have to find a suitable bush BUT bushes in this part of the world have more spikes than leaves.. but more about that later, maybe.

With sleeping bags safely stowed we boarded our trusty 4X4 and headed closer to the action and as the sun came up we found ourselves overlooking the fictional town of Katooma in the fictional Dakeer Province of Jella.

The brief was for 2 Rifles to push out the imaginary insurgents who were occupying the region.

All morning the battle raged until noon when endex was called.

There was just time for the AAR (After Action Review) back at EXCOM before the taxi ride of my life.

An air safari c/o the RAF back to base…. the landscape from above was breathtaking, the animals scattering at the noise of the PUMA. Never did I imagine I’d one day get a birds eye view of Africa (thank you Flt Lt Tim Smith).

Exercise Ascari Thunder - Day 2

The adventure begins. After an overnight at the barracks in Nairobi a three-hour car journey took us the Nanyuki.

Now I say a car journey … it was a white Land Rover driven by a local Kenyan solider and as anyone who has ever been to Kenya will know the roads are anything but smooth! There are crater like pot holes, road markings are non existent and as for traffic laws …forget it!

Now anyone that knows me will know that I just DON’T do camping. …Well I do now. Shown into a twenty man (woman) room (corrugated iron barn/shed) I quickly learned the art of mosquito nets, sleeping bags and unreliable ablutions (a huge thank you has to go to the girls of 4 Med Regt, couldn’t have done it without you girls!)

After a tour of the military base at the Show Ground’s we popped into the local Kenyan air base and 230 Sqn PUMA . En-route we passed a Kenyan Air force quartering patch and believe me after seeing that I’ll never ever complain about British Military housing again

10/12/10

To the uneducated soul, Cyprus is all about the sunshine, long lazy days spent all year round on golden sands , gazing at azure skies and sapphire seas. On the whole that’s right.

Although, they neglect to tell you about the rain. Yes, the rain.
When it rains in Cyprus, it rains big. Massive fat, stinging drops that pelt at monsoon proportions in solid sheets of water. It’s quite a spectacle to see, especially when accompanied by the cacophonous thunder claps and huge white zig-zags of lightning that tear across the sky. Torrents of water scream down in minutes washing away inches of dusty topsoil and flooding the streets till they resemble a crazy tangle of gurgling brown rapids. It is at times like these that we learn that the network of three-feet deep Storm Drains actually serve an architectural purpose and are not just strategically placed traps to weed out the more drunken individuals who stumble their way through short-cuts to home only to unwittingly find themselves up-ended with a face-full of dry leaves staring out a cockroach or two. Turf-less gardens are transformed into magical, mysterious marsh-lands, and murky lakes, the enormous puddles luring children with false promises that their depths do not exceed the tops of their wellies.

Today is the day that the Cypriots were hoping for. After an unfeasibly long, hot and dry summer, the authorities were beginning to fear that an equally dry winter would result in the kind of water shortages that have crippled the island in previous summers. A couple of summers ago, the disastrous combination of a virtually rainless winter season and a typically hot summer resulted in the enforcement of water rationing across the island. Households were limited to only a few hours of running water per day and simple tasks such as laundry became a struggle. The Cyprus government appealed to neighbouring Greece for shipments of water and they even wheeled out the local Church Councillors in mass services to pray for a break in the weather. So, as you may realise, those big drops that fall from the sky are a precious and very welcome commodity indeed.

That being said, you would think that when the rain begins, the Cypriots are prepared for the torrential downpours that they have anticipated for so long. Umm, no. Somehow this entirely natural phenomenon seems to take the locals by surprise every time. Roads are closed, the already too high road traffic rate sky-rockets, I suspect because the drivers are so taken aback by the spectacle of the rain that they forgot that a dangerous and slippery road, awash with mud and silt lays treacherously before them. I have witnessed cars stopping dead in the road as the drivers screech to a halt to contemplate Nature in all her glory. You seriously need your wits about you if you take to the wheel on a day like this. In addition, electricity grids topple; television studios are flagged (probably because at the first drop of rain, the cameramen are out to record the event, which is then broadcast simultaneously on every Cypriot channel like some great terrestrial disaster).

Personally, I love the thunderstorms at night. Despite being a small island, our climate seems pretty diverse and localised. The Troodos mountains are a classic example, when the snows come, you can spend the morning skiing and sledging, then come down to the coast for a picnic on a sunny beach. Fabulous. Anyway, I have the privilege of a stunning view of the mountains from my bedroom window. Sometimes, on a perfectly dry Akrotiri night we can witness the spectacle of a lightning storm raging across the mountains and beyond. Great gashes of light that streak from east to west, impressive flashes of electric purple, a pyrotechnic show of awesome and terrible proportions. Cyprus certainly offers the whole shebang of extreme weather conditions.

Tonight the Officers’ Mess is holding its’ Christmas Draw. I do feel sorry for the poor ladies who will be attempting to negotiate the streets with newly coiffed hairdos, wearing delicate heels and gowns not likely to be of water resistant material. There is also talk of a Tornado heading our way, so keep your fingers crossed that the Weather Gods aren’t narked with us right now.

As for me, I’ll be sat with a soothing coffee watching my kids negotiate the newly-formed water park that used to be our garden. No doubt I’ll be emptying their wellies later.

29/10/10

Well..,et lost, Giselle, leg-it Linda and naff off Naomi, there’s a new kind of supermodel in town.

She’s fun, she’s fresh, she comes in all different shapes and sizes and was last seen carousing the catwalk at the Akrotiri Ladies Events Annual Fashion Show. Back on October 8th, Akrotiri Officers Mess was the scene for the hottest show in town when a gaggle of glamorous girlies and a group of groomed gents strutted their stuff on the runway in aid of local groups and charities. The event, now in its 5th annual incarnation, was the culmination of months of hard work by the voluntary committee of Akrotiri Ladies Events.

Due to the resounding success of each previous year’s event, the pressure is always on to add a unique and exciting spin to the current year’s offering. This year was no disappointment. Having showcased the handiwork of local dressmakers and retailers in past years, the committee wanted to tap into the current recession-hit climate and put on a show that had a lesser pull on the purse-strings of the audience.

So the brainchild of the Project officer was born. It was suggested that the many wardrobes of the Akrotiri residents were no doubt in need of a spring-clean, so appeals were made in the local community for ladies to bring along their unwanted ballgowns, cocktail dresses and formal wear to be sold on the night.

The plan was that a select number of the most immaculate and desirable frocks would be modelled on the catwalk and put up for auction, whilst the remainder would be on display for ‘try and buy’ throughout the evening. A proportion of the sale proceeds would go the individual donors of the items, once a sales fee had been taken. In other words, everyone’s a winner.

Well, despite the idea being such a cracking one, nobody anticipated the sheer volume of interest this would generate. The project officer who kindly volunteered the use of her home as a storage area for all the dresses found herself inundated with beautiful gowns of all colours, styles and sizes and her living room soon began to resemble the stock room of any respectable department store with literally hundreds of dresses filling rails and hangers. It is a credit to not just her, but her whole family (which includes two children under 7 and a distinctly vicious cat) that all the gowns made it to the show intact, and the patience of her husband must have been distinctly saintly as he found himself answering the door for the umpteenth time to be greeted by a strange female brandishing armfuls of silk and taffeta.

Of course, once all the dresses were gathered in, there was the ‘simple’ matter of getting together with the models for fittings, and once again the house was taken over in the name of charity.

In the meantime, while this frenzy of fashion was going on, there was also the matter of preparing the logistics for the day’s eventualities. Venues had to be booked, catwalks, tables, lights, carpet and chairs had to organised. Traders had to be contacted, hairdressers, make-up artists and photographers recruited, cocktails planned and mixed. Posters had to be designed, printed and displayed; tickets produced and sold. Raffle prizes had to be blagged and the tickets distributed. Promotional radio adverts and interviews had to be aired. Music had to be picked and the comperes for the night briefed. It was truly an “all hands on deck” situation.

As the Big Day approached and the hysteria mounted, some souls were anxiously viewing weather forecasts. The Fashion Show is traditionally an outdoors event, taking advantage of the mild Cyprus weather yet avoiding the scorching humidity of the summer (sweat stains are not pretty on a silk frock!), but in October there is always the slight risk of rain. In previous years Akrotiri Ladies suffered from the lack of forethought by scheduling the Fashion Show bang in the middle of one of the annual Coptic Storms which batter Cyprus with gale-force sand laden gusts from the Middle East. That lesson learnt, the show has been moved from late September to early October.

According to the Akrotiri Met Office, there was a distinct chance of thunder storms on the night. So, a Plan B was prepared, ‘just in case’ and ticket sales were limited to 180. Thankfully, the weather Gods smiled on us that day and Plan A- the Al-Fresco Option was able to go ahead.
Had you perchance to pop in to the Akrotiri Officers Mess on the morning or afternoon of October 8th, you may well have been greeted with the spectacle of a mass of flustered ladies transforming the usually plain courtyard into a wonderland of lights and fabric, with the centrepiece being an impressive catwalk which zig-zagged amongst the seats. The stage was set-up and the PA system was implemented. As the afternoon progressed, backstage was a fog of hairspray, perfume and face powder as the crew of experts worked hard to prepare the models for their debut in just a few hours. Dresses were hung carefully on every available surface and wine glasses were genteely clinked within a safe distance.

Word soon came back that the night was a sell-out! In fact, right up to the last minute people were clamouring to obtain the elusive tickets, many even offering to pay twice the face value in order to get in. On top of all the already overworked volunteers, it was wondered if bouncers and the anti-ticket-tout police were to be required too!

And so, the moment of reckoning was here. At 7pm on the dot, the Mess doors were opened and in poured a mass of ladies and a few gents eager to sample the complimentary ‘Frocktail’ and try and maybe even buy from the huge selection of dresses that didn’t make it to the catwalk. Committee members were everywhere – meeting and greeting, selling raffle tickets, taking sales of dresses, dishing out the drinks, running back and forth from backstage, placating the vendors that also attended with wares to sell on the night.

After the initial hustle and bustle, the guests settled down to enjoy the show. The lights dimmed, there was a crack of thunder (thankfully, just a pre-recorded one), and to the theme tune of ‘Halloween’ there emerged a group of ghouls and monsters who hissed and shrieked amongst the spellbound audience. Amongst these were a few of the local schoolchildren, modelling costumes sold by a local fancy-dress merchant. When these spooky souls slinked away, the Fashion Show proper commenced. The show consisted of three sets, as the lovely ladies paraded the catwalk, first in party wear, then in cocktail outfits and finally in formal gowns, accompanied by a handful of gallant gents in dinner jackets. After each set, the auction for each individual gown was held. Egged on by the fantastic and highly entertaining chemistry between the two hosts, BFBS presenters Jennifer Packham and Wez Thompson, some of the auctions generated a lot of interest in the audience and a few items went for a lot more than anticipated. Credit must also go to the fantastic models. During the first set, a certain amount of nerves were detected amongst the ladies who were making a debut appearance before a huge crowd. However by the third set, their confidence had apparently grown ten-fold and the wonderful and beautiful girls were positively glowing with pride as they sashayed down the aisle. One does wonder how much of this was attributed to the wine which flowed copiously backstage.

A surprise element of the evening was the ‘big ticket’ auction item, a flying jacket and photo both of which had been signed and donated by Forces Favourite, model Nell McAndrew. Earlier in the year, the project officer had the brainwave of contacting Ms McAndrew to invite her to attend the show. Expecting the usual brush-off she was extremely surprised to receive a personal phone-call from Nell herself apologising profusely for not being able to attend and offering the jacket and photo by means of compensation. This item caused a flurry of excitement amongst the audience.

As the evening drew to a close, the raffle was drawn and a host of impressive prizes were distributed. All that remained was to give thanks to the multitudes of volunteers who helped to make the show such a resounding success, and to present bouquets to the key figures who made it all possible.

Akrotiri Ladies Events are incredibly proud to announce that this has been our most successful Fashion Show so far and the evening made an ASTOUNDING THREE THOUSAND EUROS! This money will be distributed to local groups and charities by the means of grants.

We would like to thank everyone who dedicated their time and energy to making the event such an amazing one and look forward (if a little nervously) to next year’s show.

29/09/10

Our second outdoors venture was in a much less civilised, but no less enjoyable vein. Last Saturday, the Lundie Clan joined twenty or so other families for an overnight camping adventure at the Happy Valley camping ground in Episkopi garrison. The weekend was a venture organised by Akrotiri Ladies Events and proved to be not only fun-packed but grime-filled in the way only “roughing it” in a dusty wooded area can be.

Following a hearty lunch in a local cafeteria, a convoy of happy campers drove their way to the picturesque beach-side site to be greeted not by a village of neatly arranged and sophisticated tents but by stacks of folded green canvas. Our first challenge of the day was the erection of our temporary homes. Not for us the ultra-light, easily assembled, modern, waterproof domes of the contemporary tent-dweller – oh no! The canvas monstrosities that we were faced with were the old style military style 9x9s, the like of which I’m sure I had only previously seen on the label of a bottle of ‘Camp Coffee Essence’ popular during times of the Boer War! I can only say that 30+ degree heat and high humidity is not conducive to attacking the conundrum of interlocking poles and heaving dusty, stubborn sheets of military issue canvas over a frame, which you hope vaguely, resembles a shelter for the night. Once that challenge has been met, the next endurance trial involved entering the newly erected sweat-box in order to fathom out exactly how to fold out the camp beds whilst disentangling oneself from the mass of mosquito netting that seems to adhere itself to your sweaty, exposed flesh.
Of course, eventually, after much huffing and heaving, and re-organising when we discovered we had built our tent inside out, we stood back and, exhausted yet proudly, surveyed our handiwork, eagerly anticipating the forthcoming day’s events.

The first activity of the day was the treasure hunt, which had been kindly and expertly organised for us. This involved pairing up with another family and following clues and a map in order to collect tokens from various key points around the campsite. Having teamed up with the family of the Station Commander and being married to a Customs Officer who amongst his duties was required to patrol the very area in which we were hunting, I was pretty confident that victory was imminent. Dear reader, I was wrong. It turns out that the removal of an official uniform renders both family heads incapable of determining east from west, and, as we passed the same clue-post for the third time, hopes of success were fading. So we did the honourable thing – ducked into the beachside café for a sneaky coffee and cake and sent the kids to steal the answers off their friends in other teams.

Once all errant families were gathered back, it was time for a brief raffle and dinner. The food was provided by the local CESSAC caterers who arrived in a van loaded with sausages, burgers, nuggets, potatoes, salad and all the trimmings. I suspect that they also added to the authenticity of the experience but unleashing a legion of wasps that seemed to home in the moment the first tin-foil pack was unwrapped. Still, that’s part of the joy of camping isn’t it?

After food, the children were all presented with prizes for the treasure hunt, which included a bag of sweeties resulting in the inevitable sugar rush. Still the hazards were minimal, apart from a labyrinth of guy-ropes and fold-up chairs, so the parents cracked open the bottles and tinnies while the little darlings ran around in sugar-fuelled frenzies, gathering layers filth in the process.

For me, the highlight of the event was at sundown. Due to the Fun Police (aka the Health and Safety Executive) placing an embargo on campfires, many of us brought along solar lights and lanterns, so as the sun dropped behind the hills, the lights began to twinkle and glint. An unexpected treat was the ingenious idea of a couple of the campers to obtain a few box loads of Cyalume glow sticks to give to each of the children (and a few parents, too). It was an awesome sight to see hundreds of red, blue and green rods running round the camp attached to darkness-obscured little people. In the nearby football field, a large number of children took it upon themselves to hurl the glow-sticks high in the air so that they momentarily resembled a fireworks display. My only reservations were that the campsite was directly under the flight path of RAF Akrotiri air terminal, just a few miles away, and I hoped that the pilot of the inbound trooper did not confuse the football field with the red-lit runway. Still, the arrival of a Boeing would probably only have added to the party atmosphere!

As the night quietened down and some of the younger children were put to bed, we were joined by a guitarist for a traditional sing-song. The evening started off hopefully but soon degenerated to a raucous alcohol-fuelled Karaoke session as the wine and vodka flowed liberally and inhibitions loosened. There’s nothing quite like the acoustics of a large, wooded valley to give a hearty rendition of Tom Jones’ Delilah that added ‘pizzazz’….and I can only offer my shamefaced apologies to the nearby residents of quarters in Episkopi, amongst, whom, I have been informed, resides the Commander of British Forces, Cyprus.

I would so like to report that a sound, peaceful sleep was had by all, but, certainly in my case, that was not true. The camp beds are probably adequate for fit young soldiers but for a lady of ample frame who is wont to hog an entire double bed given the opportunity they did not suffice. Furthermore, in my naivety, I had only brought a thin covering sheet, unaware that, despite the high temperatures during the day, the balminess subsided to chilly dampness in the small hours. For a few hours I lay under the canvas listening to some unidentified beastie crawl along the branches of the trees above us and occasionally drop seed pods onto the roof, no doubt to maliciously remind me that I was surrounded on all points by creatures intent on biting me, stinging me or crawling under my sheets and doing unspeakable mischief’s. And then, my bladder began to twitch, no doubt aggravated by the cold. It was at the point, with a sinking heart that I realised that the tents did not come with an en-suite facility. After what seemed like a lifetime of leg crossing and wriggling I resigned myself to the fact that a trip to the toilet block was necessary and so I donned my shoes (having shone a torch inside first to ensure no scorpions had opted to make a home there) and trudged to the loos.

It was at this time that I was fortunately re-acquainted with the joys of camping, especially in Cyprus where the risk of rain is minimal and clouds are a rarity. Looking up at the night sky, unbleached by street lights, I saw a spectacular array of stars and found myself gazing up for hours at the glittering canvas of constellations, some sights of which I had never witnessed on UK nights. Suddenly the discomfort of the accommodation faded into significance. Inspired by the solitude, silence and awesome beauty of my surroundings, I found myself taking a walk to the nearby beach and lying on a sunbed, the only living being on that stretch of coast flanked by golden cliffs, watching the sun crawl up the sky from the horizon and gently fill the sky with light, changing the sea from a misty pale blue to sparkling azure. It was truly a “champagne moment” and one I will never forget.

Of course, all good things must come to an end, and with the dawn came the chattering dawn chorus and the ensuing bustle of children waking up their somewhat hangover and aching parents. The campsite slowly drew itself to life, and several scenes from “Dawn of the Dead” were called to mind as I watched my fellow adult campers emerge reluctantly from their tents and drag their camp-bed battered bodies to the toilet block. Once ablutions had been completed, it was time to clean up the site and take down the tents. Thankfully it was a far less complicated affair and we were all awarded with pre-ordered slap-up full breakfast at the beachside café. Also laid on were beach activities including banana boat rides for all who still had the energy to participate. I dread to think of the slick that must have formed on the water as hoards of dust and mud-ridden children splashed around in the sea in lieu of a decent bath.
Arriving home later that day, the shower I took could not have been better if I had been handed the loofah by Brad Pitt, and my bed never felt so comfortable. That said, we all had the most amazing time and I’m incredibly grateful for the tireless and dedicated souls that gave up their spare time to make it possible. I’m definitely up for doing it again, although before then you may well find me surfing in Amazon for self-erecting tents and luxury air-beds!

22/09/10

Residents of Akrotiri are probably aware that in the last few months the Thrift Shop has not only undergone a change of management also a slight overhaul. The great majority of the customers have reported nothing but positive feedback for the increase in opening hours, the re-jigging of the taking-in and paying-out system and the re-organisation of the shop contents.

It seems, however, that there are certain ‘souls’ who are less than satisfied with the upheaval caused by this work. I was recently involved in conversation with the staff and volunteers at the Thrift Shop, who reluctantly admitted that the premises may be the subject of certain spectral visitations. On more than one occasion, on entering the shop after it has been vacated and locked up for a day or two, staff have noticed the imprints of a childs’ shoes on the floor. The volunteers who work there maintain that the floor is always cleaned thoroughly before the shop is closed. Furthermore, there have occasionally been a secondary set of shoeprints on the opposite side of the shop floor, with no other marks in-between. On other occasions, bolts to inner doors behind doors which have been witnessed to have been closed at the end of the day have been mysteriously found pulled back the following morning. However, perhaps the most spine-tingling occurrence has been the discovery, one morning, of a pile of books found, neatly stacked in the centre of the shop floor, as if having been tampered with by a mischievous child. None of these can be explained logically as there is no sign of any forced entry and only the manageress holds the keys to the shop. Does the Aki Thrift Shop have a poltergeist, the spirit of a disgruntled customer? Who knows!

This is not the only report of alleged supernatural goings-on around the base, and, when you consider the history of Akrotiri, it is not surprising. Since its establishment in 1955, Aki has seen its fair share of incidents as well as the aftermath of many conflicts and operations. These include the troubles between the Turkish and Greek Cypriots which culminated in the occupation of the north in 1974, two Gulf Wars, Operation Highbrow which came into force to liberate the occupants of the Lebanon in 2006 and, of course, the ongoing war in Afghanistan. A brief sojourn around the airbase brings you into contact with a great number of buildings that appear to have been standing (some, now barely) since the inception of the base; and currently undergoing demolition are a number of quarters that are at least a few decades old. It would be impossible to contemplate the numbers of families that must have passed through our gates in the last half-century, each bringing with them their own stories and situations, some, I’m sure, more tragic than others and which may have left their imprint on the bricks and mortar they left behind. I have friends who lived previously in the older quarters on base who claim to have heard mysterious and unexplained noises in the night that have even the most logical minded amongst them feeling the hairs on the back of their necks prickle.

Another suspected hub of phantom activity is The Princess Mary Hospital. The very location of the hospital lends itself to myth and speculation as it sits on a lone promontory overlooking the Mediterranean. During the day it is the scene of breath-taking views over endless blue sea flanked by imposing cliffs and a picturesque golf-course, however, when the spectacular sunset ebbs away and the shadows creep over the water, the eeriness seeps in, perpetuated by the peninsula wind which whips and blows between the buildings. It is no wonder that the building earned the nickname ‘Alcatraz’. The hospital itself is usually fairly unoccupied unless a crisis is ongoing and at night the echoing, empty corridors would be enough to make any but the hardiest of disposition just a little jumpy. There have been many staff members claims of feeling certain ‘cold spots’ which have an air of uneasiness and which don’t invite the occupants to linger long.

The wards have been a temporary home to numerous casualties, including both Terry Waite and John McCarthy, the ill-fated Lebanon hostages en-route to the homes after their liberation. More sadly, it was also used as a crisis centre for victims of the US Marines Barracks Bombing in Beirut. Doubtless there are individuals who ended their days there and, who knows, the echoes of these sad events may still emanate through the wards today.

07/09/10

I can imagine that the mood is very subdued today at Episkopi Garrison here in Cyprus as news seeps through that the 2nd Battalion The Duke of Lancaster's Regiment – known as the 2 Lancs - have suffered another loss of life during their deployment in Afghanistan. I can only offer my heartfelt sympathies, not only to the family and friends bit also to the colleagues that remain to fight another day with one less comrade in their courageous crew.

Prior to moving to moving to Cyprus and rubbing shoulders with the military, I had no real concept of the impact of this kind of news. It is true that these kind of reports are always tragic but back in Civvie-world it was easier to detach and spout off hollow platitudes of the futility of war, and in particular the conflict in Afghanistan. It’s not so simple when you start to meet the families and realise that there is a credible and terrible chance that your friends and neighbours may one day become the victims of another senseless attack. Real people with real lives, not just another statistic.

It is with absolute certainty that I feel that we should have the utmost pride and awe for the courage, integrity and comradeship shown by the troops who put themselves in the face of danger daily. It is with relief and gratitude that I observe that the tide has turned within the media and that our brave troops are finally being proffered the respect and recognition that they have earned ten-fold.

I also spare a thought for the partners and families left behind when loved ones are deployed to these hostile lands. Now that the children have returned to school, I pride myself on having made it through the six weeks without committing an act of filicide, however, on reflection, this is a scant achievement compared to the legions of wives and husbands who had no choice but to battle through the break without the support of their partner. In addition to that, no doubt, they would have had to maintain a positive and cheerful disposition for the sake of the children, all the time watching the news with trepidation and experiencing many a heart-stopping moment any time the phone or the doorbell rang at unexpected hours. I’m not sure I possess the inner resolve and grit required to try and lead a normal life under such a threatening shadow. Military wives and partners, I salute you. War has many unsung heroes, and amongst them you should stand proud.

There is talk of Homecoming parade when the 2Lancs eventually return to Episkopi from Afghanistan. I for one, will be there, sadly aware, having lost my civvie naivety, that amongst the jubilation, pomp and circumstance march a bunch of men and women haunted by the sights and sounds of life on the battlefield. And, behind the scenes will be families shattered by the fact that their loved ones were brutally robbed of the chance to be reunited once more. This is the bitterest pill that I have had to swallow.

To all of you affected directly or indirectly by this senseless, heartless war I extend my humblest sympathies. And to those waiting on their love ones to return I offer my heartfelt hopes for their safe return.

25/08/10

Well, the Lundies have landed back in Akrotiri after our mammoth three-week tour of the UK.

Having negotiated the motorway networks of England, Scotland and Wales our final challenge was enduring the process of checking in and embarking the flight full of holidaymakers bound for our current homeland. Being a seasoned traveller, and also having worked at Heathrow for eight years, I have formed the opinion that there is some kind of force-field secreted within the body-scanner security arches which wipes from the average traveller the last remnants of common sense and empathy for their fellow human beings.

This is particularly compounded on the kind of flight that chooses not to allocate specific seats to its passengers (you know who I mean, no need to name and shame just yet!). It is with more than a degree of exasperation that I witness people who, I am sure, are compassionate, considerate individuals in their every-day lives, mutate into mercenary, twitching psychos at the merest hint that the airline ground-staff are due to announce that “the flight will be boarding shortly”. You can almost see the red mist descend as they survey their fellow passengers, determining which are the weak and defenceless who must be thrown aside like skittles and make the ultimate sacrifice in the quest for the window seat with the best leg room. It is in this air of paranoia that I find myself unable to resist messing with the heads of the susceptible few. A favourite game is to listen out for a barely audible airline announcement from another gate, and to get up and proceed to the doors of the boarding gate and stand there expectantly. Ten points is scored for every person who agitatedly jumps up to form a queue behind you before you subtly slip away making “baaa” noises under your breath....

Anyway, enough of my ranting, thankfully my entire family made it on to the plane and, having waved goodbye to the green fields of England for another year, we enjoyed a relatively incident-free flight.

On touching down in Cyprus, we were met with an entirely different scenario. As we disembarked on to the tarmac of Paphos airport we were greeted by a wall of heat. In Cyprus, it’s hot....no, really, very hot. It’s the kind of hot that invites the locals, even the leathery, weather-beaten men of the villages to regard you with a frustrated sigh, a melodramatic wipe of the brow and a slightly amused shrug. Having enjoyed the wettest spring in years, Cyprus is suffering the hottest and most humid summer on record.

Enter our home at the moment and you could easily be forgiven for thinking that you have stumbled upon the set of “Apocalypse Now”; the ‘whoop-whoop-whoop’ of the fans on full speed are reminiscent of the legions of helicopters, and sometimes I wonder if our roof needs to be cleared for take-off by the nearby air-traffic control tower. Only weeks ago, we delightedly watched the weather reports of the UK from this sun-soaked island and smirked at the tales of rain, cloud-cover and thunderstorms, now those very same forecasts are like the tantalising promises of a far-away land. We’re British, we’re never happy!!

August is typically a very quiet month, both here in Akrotiri and island-wide. Many of the Cypriots take long holidays and close their businesses and the schools enjoy an extended break. Meanwhile, a great deal of Akrotiri residents take the opportunity to visit families back home while the kids are off school. It is an unfortunate situation in some ways for August is also typically the time that we see the greatest number of new arrivals to Akrotiri, mainly families who hope to settle in before the children begin the new school year in a new school. At this time I tend to reflect on what a bewildering and disorientating time it must be for these new arrivals and trust that the systems that have been set-up to integrate the newcomers can rise to the challenge of providing the information and support that, naturally, these people crave and deserve. So far, I have been impressed, particularly with the work of the schools that aim to make the transition from one education establishment to another as stress-free an experience for the students who arrive here. Certainly at Akrotiri Primary, their efforts are commendable with a specifically allocated staff member who not only welcomes and personally introduces the new children to their classes, but also dedicates time to ensure that the children who are due to leave Akrotiri are informed and prepared for the changes they may expect on their departure. It is certainly a unique challenge faced and the constant turnover of pupils, together with the other expectations of any school working within the National Curriculum, provide a great deal of work for the staff there. And on top of this, the school manages to provide a warm and relaxed atmosphere (even when the air-con is on full-blast!) So top-marks to Service Childrens’ Education, and keep it up!

02.08.10

Over recent weeks, the one word I have most frequently, and reluctantly found myself uttering has been ‘goodbye’. Yes, it’s the summer holidays here again at RAF Akrotiri, a time where, traditionally, as the temperatures rise the number of familiar faces declines and families finish their tours and pack up their houses to move on to the next posting. There is a distinct whiff of Domestos in the air as the poor individuals battle with the rigours of the march-out, preparing their homes for the arrival of ‘new blood’ in the weeks to come. This year, I’m feeling the sting as it is my third summer in Cyprus, and a large number of very good friends who arrived on the island in the same season as my family and I are reaching the end of their time here on the island. This is where the life of a civvie has its downfalls. Yes, you do get to spend longer in the sunshine on this beautiful island but the price is watching friends come...and watching them go. It’s a bitter-sweet situation.

It’s definitely friendships and the great community feeling that keeps places like Akrotiri alive. The base is populated by hundreds of families all flung thousands of miles from their familiar lifestyles – friends, family, the support systems we all surround ourselves with. Everyone here is in the same boat and soon becomes apparent that it’s ‘sink or swim’ if you wish to spend a fulfilling and enjoyable term here. Fortunately, the people here have worked very hard to set up a variety of little ‘life-boats’ and are always on the look-out for the strugglers. If the welcome had not been so warm when I first arrived, then I am sure we had not have applied to be extended, but, I’m delighted to report that I have always felt and continue to feel a great part of the community here. Sometimes, too much so, that it tugs quite heavily on the heart-strings when goods friends have to leave.

Friendships here are formed quickly and strongly, it’s incredibly important to know you have people to turn to when a long-distance call back home just doesn’t cut the mustard. Also, it’s all too easy to feel isolated when you feel unable to turn to a neighbour, friend or relative for practical help in moments of crisis. The residents of Akrotiri seemed to have a deep, ingrained understanding of this need to connect and are always willing to reach out to one another. As a Community Support Clerk, this is profoundly important to me, for, there are times when I know to refer our customers not to formal organisations or a faceless system, but just to give them a phone number of a kind individual I know for sure will offer their services above and beyond the call of duty out of kindness and empathy. A prime example of this is the Headless Chickens group formed by a group of mothers all affected by being left at home with children while their partners were posted out of area, sometimes for up to six months. Although the Welfare Office does a sterling job in providing practical help, the Headless Chickens go the extra mile in arranging child-friendly dinner dates, getting together for coffee mornings, and supplying a support network amongst their members for child-minding etc. They also understand each others’ situations much more specifically and deeply than those not affected by the enforced absence of a partner ever could. They can be found on Facebook and are well worth looking up.

Other similar groups include Akrotiri Friends, aimed at providing meet-ups for newcomers, especially the singlies, to the Base, The Akrotiri Blokes Club who are a bunch of house-husbands that meet monthly to (and I quote) “ drink beer, discuss sport and exchange childcare tips....borrow tools and get advice on fixing your motorbike/ computer/ other broken stuff.”, and Akrotiri Ladies’ Events whose aim is to organise a variety of events (ranging from Red Carpet cinema nights, to Fashion Shows, Watersports Days, etc) the profits of which are used to provide grants for the myriad of other clubs, organisations and special interest groups that exist here.

The Community Support office itself also offer a CAMEO (ComeAndMeetEveryOne) session every fortnight where people who have recently arrived can come and chat over free drinks and ice-cream and learn about what’s happening at Akrotiri and exchange hints and tips about Cyprus Life (naturally, the important things such as the best discount shoe shops and who does the best kebab), the kind of info you won’t find except through word of mouth. The sessions aren’t restricted to newcomers, anyone is welcome whether they have something to say or want to make new friends.

The sheer tightness of the community and the proximity of all its’ residents has caused some people to bemoan what is referred to the “fishbowl syndrome” After all, it is hard to maintain your privacy when you are likely to live a few doors down from your childrens’ teacher or the colleague you had to reprimand that day, or you may find yourself rubbing shoulders at the local fish counter with the doctor who performed your smear test. But frankly, I have welcomed the opportunity to shake off the typical British stand-offishness that has polluted so many societies back home. Having lived in London and its environs and not even knowing the first names of my next-door neighbours I find it a refreshing change that every day there is always a smiling face greeting me not too far away. I think the sunshine helps, warm weather makes you smile. A friend (yet another departed from here) likened living in Akrotiri to living in a 1950’s movie, perhaps a little like the fictional Bedford Falls in Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life”. A town where, ultimately, the residents pulled together to make it a better place for everyone, what better compliment can there be?

The only downfall I can consider is that, inevitably, every time I go to the local supermarket on base I find myself engaged in a chat with someone about their lives, their stories etc. That’s utterly fine until you remember that you’ve been standing chatting for fifteen minutes or more in 38 degrees heat with a tub of ice-cream in your bag that has now reverted back to milk.
Oh, and the other downfall...when fantastic friends have to go. I’ll never get used to that. Although I have to say the technological wonders of Skype can soften the blow, and visits to the UK are never dull as we have friends to revisit in almost every corner of the British Isles.

So I’m dedicating this blog entry to all those who have recently seen my signature in a goodbye card, exchanged hugs over a farewell kebab and who have enriched my lives ten-fold. You know who you are, don’t be strangers and thank you for being a valuable part of my time in Akrotiri. Good luck in your new postings, wherever that may be.

28.07.10

In my last entry I spoke of adapting to and embracing Military Life when my family and I moved to RAF Akrotiri in 2007. When we first entered the system, it became very apparent that we had to urgently and adeptly learn a new language. I’m not talking about Greek, as spoken by the locals here, what I’m referring to is MOD-Speak.This is a curious form of Olde English designed to baffle and confound, no doubt a form of anti-espionage tactics, and mainly consists of anacronyms and abbreviations, peppered with a healthy dose of metaphors. It also appears that most military personnel, not content with the names their parents no doubt carefully chose, prefer to answer to nicknames, even when being addressed formally. I found it most confusing to be greeted with phrases such as “Nobby, the 2IC of the REME has gone AWOL” actually translated as “Major Clarke, the deputy officer of the Royal and Electrical and Mechanical Engineers appears to be skiving off”. And in my past life living with civilians, the only ‘BFG’ I was aware of was Roald Dahl’s Big Friendly Giant. But, eventually, I found my ear adapting to this foreign gibberish, and I even dared to dabble in returning a few phrases myself.

Ironically, living in Cyprus, the one language I have failed to master is Greek. Much to my shame, after residing here for almost four years, my bi-lingual abilities extend only as far as ‘please’, ‘thank-you’, ‘excuse me’ and a swear word which comes in very handy when some idiot cuts you up on the roundabout in his BMW (most effectively executed with a universally recognised hand gesture). For most of my language failings I fully accept the blame, however, part of the problem is compounded by the fact that 99% of Cypriots have a very good command of the English language. The Cypriots in general are a wonderful and very quirky race of people. They have always extended, at least on the face of it, a very warm welcome to a bunch of eccentric foreigners who have occupied and isolated some large tracts of land on this beautiful island. Admittedly, the British presence has generated a good amount of employment and revenue for the Cypriot people, however we must never forget that the island belongs to them and they were here with their trading routes, stunning architecture and sophisticated education systems while we still trying to work out how climb down out of the deciduous forests.

One of my first encounters with some of the ‘locals’ was just a few days after arriving at Akrotiri, and was quite a memorable one. I was pottering about in my kitchen when there was a knock at the door and I found, waiting on the doorstep, two swarthy boiler-suited gentlemen brandishing rakes. The elder of the two, pushed a cigar to the corner of his mouth and grumbled, “we here to clear garden”. So, dutifully, I showed them to the back gate and indicated that they should get on with what was required. Returning to my kitchen I busied myself with the chores to the background noise of hedge clippers and strimmers. All of a sudden there was a tap at the window and the younger of the men, shouted through the fly screen “You take clothes off?”.

Naturally I froze on the spot, aghast, wondering what to do next. Obviously sensing my confusion the young gardener repeated the question “You take clothes off, please?”. At this point I was struggling to maintain eye contact in an assertive manner whilst backing carefully towards the knife drawer when suddenly my gaze caught the young man’s pointing hand. His arm was stretched in the direction of my washing line, gaily adorned with clean clothes which the considerate young man had concluded would be dirtied by the dust generated by the garden clearance. I breathed a sudden sigh of relief and the ensuing hysterical laughing that emanated from me probably only confirmed the Cypriot belief that the British are not just eccentric but positively bonkers.

From thereon, I embarked upon my journey of discovery of the lovely people of Cyprus. Some conclusions I have drawn in my 44-month investigation so far include the following:
Cypriots are incredibly laid-back individuals, whose sense of time and urgency are the polar opposites of the MOD’s pressing deadlines. There is a concept here of ‘Cyprus Time’, which on average is usually at least one hour, and more frequently one day or more, behind any allocated appointment or booking. The locals have a much-used phrase: “Siga-Siga”, whose literal translation means “slowly, slowly” but it is more accurately interpreted as “whatever”, “whenever” or the literate expression of the shoulder-shrug. The job will be done, just not when you expect it.

The one exception to the chilled-out attitude of the locals is when they get behind the wheel of a car. For some reason, the act of placing the key in the ignition can transform a placid, relaxed individual into an impatient, near-homicidal maniac, for whom any obstacle on the road, be it a line of traffic, a tractor, a herd of goats or an old lady on the zebra crossing, proves to be no obstacle at all. The art of overtaking in Cyprus is best achieved on blind bend, whilst conversing on a mobile phone and drinking an ice-cold frappe.

The Cypriots have an unprecedented love of the mobile phone, yet seem to have still to grasp the concept that these telephones have a sophisticated and highly sensitive microphone. Most conversations overheard are experienced at a high decibel level and, to the untrained ear, sound remarkably similar to a violent domestic incident. This scenario is in fact very rare and most of the shouting and wild gesticulation is of a genial nature.

In Cyprus, as in many Mediterranean countries, the OId Lady rules supreme. Unlike in the UK, where the majority of our Senior Citizens are treated with a shameful disdain and neglect, in Cyprus, the older matriarchs are proffered the utmost respect. It appears to be an unwritten rule that the longer one exists on the earth the more one feels entitled to have things your own way. This rule applies most profoundly in supermarket queues. No matter how long you have waited at the delicatessen to be served your halloumi and tahini dip, if an Old Lady is within twenty feet of the queue’s end, she will feel fully entitled to elbow , shuffle and viciously handbag her way to the front, reducing even the most assertive grown men to submission. Any individual who attempts to usurp this power ploy will be greeted with disapproving stares, teeth-sucking and badly veiled envy. It is best to concede defeat in this case and hope that these women are working solo.

Continuing with the shops and supermarkets theme, I need to touch on the Cypriot shopkeepers overwhelming generosity and touchy-feeliness when it comes to the presence of children, particular those who look obviously ‘foreign’. My two red-haired, pale-skinned children learned very early on in our tour here that an endearing smile and a cutely tilted head was very often enough to obtain them freebies and/or sweeties in the majority of shopping outlets. The same applied to restaurants and cafes where lollipops and ice creams flowed bountifully at the flick of an auburn curl. It took a little longer for me to shake my reserved British sensibilities and conclude that the touching, hair-stroking and even kissing of strangers’ children was a form of compliment and not the pre-emptive strike of the ‘paedos’ that the British tabloids would have us believe lurk on every corner.

So there we have it, a capsule view of living ‘amongst the natives’. In conclusion, I have to say I find the Cypriots to be a wonderful, warm and fascinating bunch of people whose quirks and foibles only add to the richness of our experience so far here in Cyprus. I am proud to call some of the Cypriots working at Akrotiri my friends and hope to remain so for many years to come.

22/03/11
Catherine Brazier

RAF Akrotiri is a hub of activity at the moment, even more so than normal. As you will have seen from our news coverage the airbase is providing vital support to ongoing operations over Libya. E3D Sentry, Sentinel and Nimrod aircraft have been stationed here for most of the last month – running surveillance missions over Libya – they are accompanied by two VC10 tankers providing a crucial refuelling capability. For someone (like me) who’s experiencing the sights and sounds of these planes up close for the first time, the last few weeks has been fascinating and I’ve been rushing to the nearest available window every time I hear a jet roar! They’ll make a plane-spotter out of me yet……

A couple of weeks ago I spoke to OC Ops about the pressure on the infrastructure of Akrotiri in the context of these latest developments. He was quick to point out that this is nothing new for British troops based in Cyprus who are continuously contributing to main effort. Yes, it is going to be busier (anyone eating in the mess over the last fortnight will have noticed that) but Akrotiri is well set up for this kind of thing. As much as I don’t relish our involvement in another hostile operation it’s quite something to watch everything unfold from here and know that the planes I can hear day and night are playing such an important role.

With all this going on it would be easy to forget that March in Cyprus traditionally heralds another arrival…..but the Red Arrows left us in no doubt of theirs as they flew over Akrotiri on Sunday. My room shook. A few people I’ve spoken to say it’s easy to get blasé about the Reds, especially when you’ve been here for a few years but I’m thinking HOW LUCKY ARE WE!!!?? Even sitting here at my desk, I’m being treated to a mini display. There will be plenty to savour from this lot over the next six weeks so I won’t bang on about it too much now.

I did my first story with some of the guys from Op Tosca (UN based in Nicosia). Three guys became the first to traverse the Buffer Zone (from west to east) on foot in less than 60 hours. Everything about this challenge was incredible. Sergeant Andy Gillies, Warrant Officer Wayne Rowett and civilian Max Dyck completed it in 56 and a half hours, covering a multitude of different terrains and with only four hours sleep each. They started near Kato Pyrgos, which is a 2 and half hour drive from the BFBS office but so worth every minute – one thing I love about this job is the unexpected places it takes you. There would be very little reason for me to venture so far off my own back but now that area of the island is on my to-do list. And I find the buffer zone fascinating with all its history. Anyway, I digress. The trio finished at around 2pm on March 4th right over towards Deryneia – it was a beautiful sunny afternoon, all their families were there and they sang Happy Birthday to me! I’ve just heard from the guys to say that their fourth member (or muppet as they called themselves) also completed his solo challenge a week later. Major Simon Thomson, who couldn’t take part the first time round due to work commitments, completed it in 51hrs – the honourable (and now I’m thinking slightly mad) Andy Gillies ended up doing the second half AGAIN with him to keep him sane!!!! They say that donations are now well over 3k, raising money for Help for Heroes, UNICEF, the Captain James Philippson Trust Fund and the Mark Wright Project.

Meanwhile, I’ve been over to Dhekelia a number of times recently. Mostly to watch the golfers in action – RAF and Army – ahead of the inter services championships at the end of this week. I’ve always liked watching golf but now have a real appreciation of how difficult it is to film. There being only one of me I’m afraid the footage wasn’t up to Sky Sports standards but I think I captured the essence of the rivalry. I also visited the Poachers again – they were holding their annual inter-platoon competition. And they don’t do things by halves. Every platoon had to complete 24-36 hours of activities including abseiling, water skills (with full kit), night navigation, command and leadership skills, stretcher races, first aid and hours upon hours of tabbing. I was only with them for three hours and I was exhausted. The results are being kept under wraps until this Friday when there’ll be a prize giving at the Garrison. I’ll be there and will bring you a full round up.

Now, in all the hype over Libya we shouldn’t forget that, for the majority of our troops in Afghanistan, it’s business as usual. As April approaches we are in the midst of the rip. I’d be interested to know if Akrotiri or BFC have ever had so may personnel on island at any on time. This is surely going to push the various accommodation cells to their limits but what a buzz to here with non-stop activity.

For me this has been a particularly busy, and occasionally, frustrating time but something tells me it’s not going to ease up for a while…should keep me out of trouble anyway!

17/01/11
Cath Brazier
Roof-stomping

Saturday nights at Akrotiri are rarely quiet affairs but this weekend it was a particularly noisy one for Mr and Mrs Station Commander! Ahem…let me explain.

In the Air Force it’s known as a Tac Eval – short for Tactical Evaluation – and it involves rocking up at someone’s door and demanding to be let in for a drink. This weekend 84 Squadron took some friends along to Akrotiri House. They weren’t invited, nor were they expected, but instead of politely knocking on the door of said house, a few of them actually climbed onto the roof and chanted ‘we want beer’ until they were let in for refreshments! This practise, I was informed, is known as roof stomping…talk about stating the obvious

Thankfully, and not surprisingly, it was all taken in the spirit it was meant and the Station Commander, Gp Capt Barrie Thomson, and his wife Jo, welcomed us all in. For health and safety reasons I’d like to point out that no alcohol was consumed before the roof stomping – the same, however, cannot be said for the remainder of Saturday night.

It’s business as usual across the island with the large majority of BFC back to work. The schools have also returned to normal service and for some 2011 is going to be a year they won’t forget in a hurry. Five pupils from St John’s school in Episkopi and five more from King Richard’s school in Dhekelia are just under a month away from the trip of a lifetime. The lucky ten are leaving for Africa on the 11th February, where they are going to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. This weekend I went to see them after a training walk up the Troodos Mountains. They’re feeling confident after comfortably finishing a 16k walk in four and a half hours – much quicker then they expected. I’m hoping to catch up with them again before they leave but whilst they’re away they’ll be making their very own video diary so I hope to bring you the edited version on BFN at the end of February.

Keep watching and see you soon

Cath Brazier

22/11/10
Cath Brazier
Speed Demon…the story continues

One of the first things I was told when arriving on the island was that the speed police were ever present around the roads leading to and from Akrotiri. Had they been pre-warned I wonder? Did my reputation really precede me?

For those of you who read my Afghanistan blog you’ll remember there was an awkward moment when I was caught doing 18mph on Camp Bastion (the limit is 15mph). As a result I was given the ‘tongue in cheek’ nickname Speed Demon by a couple of RMPs. So you might understand my concerns.

Contrary to popular belief I don’t go looking for speed guns and long may that continue. All that remains is to thank my fellow drivers; a quick flash makes me feel like we’re all in it together.

Driving etiquette is one of the many things I’ve had to speed learn in the last few weeks. My head is crammed with new names, new places and my new life. The good news is that, despite well and truly being thrown in at the deep end, my head is above water and I’m loving every minute.

As Carla mentioned it’s a season of change on island and as a result my first month has been pretty hectic with handovers, Remembrance services and welcome home parades. There was also the sad news of the death of a young British airman who was killed during decompression – particularly tragic as he was a day away from going home.

As myself and Carla come to end of our own handover I just want to big her up for a second. She’s spent the last few weeks tirelessly showing me the ropes and it’s easy to see how well she’s fitted in here and the respect that she’s built up in Episkopi, Akrotiri and Dhekelia. I, like many others, will be sad to see her go but I have the feeling it won’t be long before we see Miss Prater back on these shores.

05/10/10
Carla Prater

Sometimes I get the feeling that people back home are rather disgruntled by Cyprus, particularly when it's been raining so much in the UK. So if you're one of those who are fed up with hearing about our sunshine, you'll be pleased to know it actually rained this weekend! Ha! Ok, I admit, it didn't last long, but it was long enough for a few people here to get excited. I have seen any since May.

The skies over Episkopi were a gloomy sight for once but that didn't stop people going outside. Over the other side of the island in Ayios Nikolaos it was the annual Nikfest station fayre, which meant lots of stalls, displays and general hijinks. I was particularly amused watching the tri-service gun run competition. The RAF emerge from third place to win, beating the army by a second - close stuff! BFBS radio was down there providing the commentary and music, though I think the whole process exhausted our engineers. I caught one having a lunchtime nap behind the stand and another clearly in a deep sleep behind the van. They've been working too hard!

Meanwhile here in Akrotiri, 18 hockey teams were busy competing in their annual tournament. Now when I was at school I wasn't much of a hockey fan. You wouldn't have been either if you'd had a group of hormonal teenage girls charging at you with a stick. This lot however, made the game look rather fun. I still have to laugh at the ridiculous goalkeeper attire. Have you seen the size of their boots?! But I don't blame them one bit. I can still remember what it's like having a hockey ball smacked at the ankle. Ouch.

By Sunday those who weren't in the final seemed to be flaked out on the grass recovering from what I hear was a very raucous cartoon themed party the night before. Those that were playing seemed to somehow be holding it all together. Particular thanks to the Chameleon team for posing and showing off their snazzy socks and to the goalie with the duck for keeping me amused.

24/09/10
Carla Prater

Now we get a lot of people coming through Cyprus for training. The facilities, terrain and similar climate to Afghanistan (at times), makes it rather popular. It's not just a jolly I assure you!

This time round 6 Reg, Royal Logistics Corps are out here from Germany for a month on Exercise Lion Sun. They're due to deploy on Herrick 15 and have been all over the Akrotiri training area. I spent this morning with them on patrol as they held a mock Shura. One told me he'd already been to Cyprus before on Op Tosca with the UN at the Buffer Zone. Apparently he spent 6 months as a life guard in Nicosia! You couldn't make it up!

14/09/10
Carla Prater

It's been a tearful time for me lately, and a very sad time for 2 Lancs. The flag has been flying at half-mast outside their Episkopi headquarters marking the deaths of two of their Lions in just a few days.

Kingsman Darren Deady and Captain Andrew Griffiths both died as a result of injuries they received in Afghanistan. Griff was one of my friends who lived in the Mess. He was such an enthusiastic and energetic character it is still impossible to accept what has happened.

When we first heard he was injured his girlfriend and family flew to his side. Sadly he never woke properly to see them but I like to think he knew they were there beside him all the way. Right now I cannot accept that such a strong person could have lost his fight for life. I have also never read so many tributes before – literally dozens of messages were sent from theatre, and although many out there have no opportunity to grieve right now, we are all planning a special memorial for him when everyone is back. Rest in peace now Griff.

08/09/10
Carla Prater

It seems the sluggish summer atmosphere is over in Cyprus – this week everyone has picked up a gear.

The Royal Anglian regiment have now been on the island for two weeks and they’ve got stuck in straight away with their training. They become the next Theatre Reserve Battalion soon so it'll be a busy year for them.

C Company are lined up as the first to deploy, their leave date penciled in for late October, but when I saw them last week they weren’t exactly dressed for theatre – more for a riot. They’ve been on public order training, learning skills for duties in Cyprus. Each platoon took turns playing the role of the angry mob and they seemed to be enjoying it, almost a bit too much!

As with all infantry that I’ve met, they were more than happy to pose for the camera, even to serenade me with an Enrique Iglesias hit (!) and surprisingly they weren't put off by interviewing. I see the start of a blossoming relationship!!

25/08/10
Carla Prater

It's been a bit of a week here in Cyprus, a friend of mine serving in Afghanistan was injured by an IED and it's been quite a shock. It's the kind of thing that happens to other people, not someone you know. I'm not sure the news has sunk in. Thankfully he survived and is back in Sellyoak in good hands - but the news has put a lot of things into perspective and my thoughts go out to all his colleagues and the guys out there right now.

Morale may have dropped here, but for others with friends and loved ones in theatre, there have been lots of efforts to keep spirits up. The Welfare Office at Episkopi have been organising events to bring families together. Staying shut in the house is one of the worst things they can do - and so there have been daily activities taking place. Last week there was a breakfast on the beach where mums and wives from 2 Lancs, (and even the CO's wife) turned up for a bacon butty. Yesterday I joined a trip for the kids on board the Marine Unit's landing craft and we sailed along the coastline.
It was gorgeous sunshine, but I really don't have sea-legs so even the slightest swell made me wobble around. Filming wasn't easy!

On the subject of sunshine, it's still shining strong here in Cyprus. I almost feel a sense of guilt when I hear the daily weather warnings on the news from the UK. We haven't seen any rain in Akrotiri since May, and even cloud is quite a rarity. Idyllic some would say, but the heat is actually rather debilitating! It's quite an achievement to be able to sleep through the night without waking up being hot and we're all feeling very sluggish. I have been speaking to meteorologists on base and they told me this year the summer is hotter than usual. It turns out even the Cypriots are complaining - and that says something!

27/07/10
Carla Prater

The temperatures are rising in Cyprus this week leaving many of us struggling to sleep under fans or, (if you're lucky), running for the air-con. Ever since I arrived on the island people have warned me about the summer temperatures and I'm starting to get an idea of what they mean. It's only in the mid-to-high thirties at the moment, but I'm told it'll be in the forties soon so we're preparing for some sweaty times!

I spent yesterday filming with the RAF's 84 Squadron who have been working on their fire fighting skills. Their Griffin helicopters are on standby to help tackle fires on the island and this time of year they can be kept rather busy. I was perched on the cliffs near RAF Akrotiri watching the crews scoop up hundreds of litres of water from the sea and then try to drop it onto a target on the rocks - it's not as easy as it sounds!

With all this heat I'm hearing lots of grumbles from people who are getting rather hot and sticky at work. Whilst I sympathise, it's the workmen on the building sites that I pity most. A new Medical facility is being built at Akrotiri, while in Episkopi the TA have flown in to help construct another mock Afghan village training area. Some haven't been on island long and are really struggling to get acclimatised.

Of course the sunshine isn't a problem for everyone. The schools broke up last week and it's been noticeably quieter on base. I think I know where they're all hiding though. A little bird tells me they're all at the pool - and who can blame them? I may have to pop along myself if I get a minute!

10/02/11

Is it really Valentine's Day on Monday? I'm shocked with how quickly the first month of the year has flown by. But also rather happy as January is always a strange month that most people want to bypass as quickly as possible. The reason it's disappeared at such great speed is because I've had a fairly busy few weeks.

First of all, I spent two weeks of January back at Chalfont, the HQ of British Forces News. I hadn't been back since I moved over here to Herford in March so it was lovely to see old faces and of course the new faces.

In between catching up with any Chalfont changes, I was on the road with the BFN cameramen. My first day was pretty exciting as Mike and I drove down to an ice skating rink in South London. I was there to meet Johnson Beharry, the military hero and Dancing on Ice star! He was training with his partner Jodeyne Higgins, who was absolutely lovely! She was so welcoming, friendly and patient as we interviewed them both. I even had a little skate with them myself, although I think they thought I couldn't stand up on my own as they were holding on to me pretty tight! I would tune into Dancing on Ice now and again, but now I enjoy watching it a lot more and keep up to speed with how Beharry is getting on. I've seen in the media that he might even now be a favourite to win!! I guess we'll find out in a few weeks!

Whilst in London, I also covered another fun report on Indy Car racing! The Indy Car team from the US were on a tour visiting their American troops for their Centennial Tour and they decided that they'd also go and visit a British military base - RAF Honnington was chosen. All members of the team were very talkative, friendly and helpful and they talked so passionately about their love for Indy Car racing. They even had one of their cars with them and gave 20 lucky raffle ticket winners a chance to get a ride with the famous Mario Andretti. Of course, they absolutely loved it - the speed, adrenalin and excitement! Hopefully next time, I might be able to get a go!

So after working in the UK for two weeks, I then packed up my bags again and made my way to the French Alps. It was the start of the Combined Services Winter Sport Championships and I had a fun, active and exciting week of competition ahead of me! Meribel was absolutely beautiful and it was so nice to be in such stunning surroundings, blue sky, sunshine and clear, mountain air. The resort hadn't had any snow for two weeks when we arrived and unfortunately it didn't snow whilst we were there either. It meant that the slopes were very icy for the competitors but they didn't seem to mind too much....they were enjoying the warmer temperatures and racing and competing to their very best! It was such a action-packed week with events going on every morning, lunchtime, afternoon and evening. To see more info on the week and what competitions took place, you can read our Meribel Blog under the 'BLOG' page or watch our reports under 'WINTER SPORTS.' From alpine skiing, to telemark to snowboarding, I loved watching every event and it was also fantastic to meet so many interesting and energetic people. As the week came to a close, it became apparent that for the first time in 40 years, the Navy had won male alpine skiing championships. And for the females - the Army girls won!

It's been a busy three weeks and I'm now back in Herford at Hammersmith Barracks. Thankfully, the weather has been kind and the blue sky is trying to appear every day. Hopefully spring will arrive in no time and we can enjoy all the great events, carnivals and wine festivals that Germany treats us with when the weather is good! For now, I'm ready to get stuck into the stories and events that are taking place around Gutersloh Garrison. And tonight is a biggy - the Boxing Match against 7 Regiment and 5 Rifles. It should be a good match and you can soon see the report on BFN or on this website!

11/10/10

It’s been a busy month or so over here in Germany and until this weekend, I hadn’t spent one weekend just being at home relaxing. In the middle of September I went to report on the Arnhem 66th Anniversary Commemorations. It was the first time that I’d been to Arnhem and I was so grateful for the opportunity. It was interesting, moving and a real honour to meet the veterans who were involved in Operation Market Garden. It was a privilege to be able to chat to those that were actually there and be able to hear personal accounts of what really happened.

I then covered the Berlin Marathon which if I’m honest, wasn’t as enjoyable as I’d hoped. The sixty-five runners who ran the marathon for ABF were just fantastic and did so well. But it was the non-stop torrential rain that made it difficult to film, interview and it was a big challenge to try and keep the camera dry. But compared to running 26 miles in the rain – that was nothing! I really admired every single runner and it was a great experience to be involved and get amongst the crowds.

In between working over the weekend, I’ve had a couple of weekends back in the UK for friend and family birthdays. We then arrive at the weekend just gone and I decided that for a change, I’d stay in Bünde and actually relax and enjoy being at home. Typically, that school of thought didn’t last for long as Oktoberfest celebrations were calling (and it’d be extremely rude not to celebrate Oktoberfest if you live in Germany! So on Saturday night I donned on the Bavarian costume and joined 1 Army Air Corp as we sang, danced and drank beer all night long. It was excellent fun and I now can’t wait to book next year’s Oktoberfest and celebrate the real thing down in Munich!

But enough party talk, onto Herford and this week’s reporting...

18/08/10

Well it’s pretty quiet here in Herford at the moment. Actually, that’s a lie – it’s very quiet as most people are away on leave and hopefully sunning themselves and relaxing rather than being in a very grey and rainy Germany! When I arrived here, I wish I could be given a pound every-time somebody told me that ‘the summer’s are always much better over here than in the UK!’ Naturally I was pretty excited about this prospect and eagerly awaited the fantastic German summer. Unfortunately and typically my luck, the heat-wave that hit Herford happened to take place in the week that I had my summer holiday to Turkey – rather annoying, but still I was grateful to be able to have a relaxing week on the Aegean coast so I can’t complain.

The last couple of interviews/reports that I have been on have involved events for charity and since I started working for BFBS I’ve really been inspired by all the charity work and organisation that takes place.

WO2 Geoff Hill from 101 Force Support Battalion REME in Bielefeld is currently training for the Great North Run and the Dublin Marathon. He’s raising money for the Stroke Association and for the hospital where is brother is ill after suffering from three strokes. His brother SSgt Gary Hill who serves in the Royal Engineers had severe pneumonia and doctors believe that a heavy coughing fit contributed to the first of the three strokes that he had.

Gary is now being cared for in Harrogate Hospital where he sadly has brain damage and has been in a coma since April.

His brother Geoff is raising money to generate awareness on the risk and possibility of strokes and to raise money to revamp the family room in the hospital. At the moment there is a small TV and a few magazines, but he hopes to get enough money to buy a new TV and a Wii for the children to play with and keep them occupied whilst their Mum/Dad or family member are recovering.

If you want to support Geoff and his brother Gary then go to http://www.justgiving.com/Geoff-Hill-running-for-gary

17/06/10

Well what a busy week it’s been….but a lot of fun! On Tuesday I went up to Kiel (about 3 ½ hours from Herford) to cover the Queens Birthday Reception. But as well as covering the celebrations, I also went up to film an old classic sailing yacht called Flamingo. She was built in 1935 and sailed in the 1936 Olympics and for the last 6 months she has been out of the water for renovation work. So Tuesday was her first day back in the water and I was able to experience her first day sailing again with General Caplin and his wife. It was such a lovely day, the weather was beautiful and it was excellent fun filming Flamingo sailing along. We also managed to stop off at a small fishing village in North Germany and had German fish and chips!

When we returned the Queen’s Birthday Celebrations got under way with a marching band and a parachute display, there was such a good atmosphere and in such a beautiful setting.

On Wednesday I joined Gill Jenkins from BFBS Radio and Tracey Phillips and Kath Brown from Sixth Sense for the Exercise Rhino Caterer competition. Instead of just going along to cover the event, we thought we’d make up our own ‘media team’ and get our hands dirty! It was so much fun and rather humorous….digging a big hole in the ground, putting an oil drum in the hole, chopping wood and then starting our own improvised oven! So clever! We then had a random box of ingredients that we had to use to cook a meal for 40 Afghan villagers! Well, I’m not the best cook in the world and rarely cook at all if I’m honest so I left the others to decide our menu and then they gave me instructions on what to do - I’m great at chopping vegetables now - any veg you want chopping, bring it my way! And a first for me in the kitchen department - butchering a goat!! Now that was an experience! Anyway, we succeeded in our task and the judges seemed very happy with our efforts, although I can’t take much credit for that at all!

And on Thursday I covered the BA(G) Athletics Competition. Another beautifully sunny day and a fantastic atmosphere. With a little help, I even managed to get everybody in the stands to do a Mexican Wave for my TV package!

So a pretty jam-packed week, but everybody has been so helpful, friendly and so welcoming - thanks everyone! Now onto next week…..

21/12/10
Combat Stress partners with new Brit Flick

As Service-related mental ill health stays high up on the public and media agenda, we get approached with a great deal of requests to help with research for articles, documentaries, books and films.

Due to the high interest in Veterans’ mental health and the sensitivities around embarking on media work, we are not always able to help but when we do we hope that speaking to staff and sometimes clients can help journos/writers/directors produce sensitive, faithful and empathetic pieces of work.

We are extremely pleased to say that since director Brian Welsh, producer Michelle Eastwood and actress Joanne Froggatt (of Downton Abbey fame) spent some time at Combat Stress we have been working together to promote their powerful new film, In our Name.

In our Name follows Suzy, a young Gunner in the British Army, as she returns home from Iraq and struggles to return to life with her husband and young daughter. It raises the urgent issue that while most sailors, soldiers and airmen find their Service to be a really positive experience, a significant minority return to civilian life with a mental health problems.

Depression, anxiety and Post traumatic stress disorder can have a massive impact on a Veteran’s life. In In our Name, Suzy's battles at home illustrate some of the symptoms experienced by Veterans who contact Combat Stress and show why it is so important that there is specialist treatment and support available for those who need it.

The film was released on Friday 10 December via Artificial Eye and can be seen at Curzon cinemas and selected Independent cinemas around the country.

There is more info on the film on our News page at www.combatstress.org.uk - where you can also see the trailer.

All that’s left to say is congratulations to Brian, Michelle and the whole cast and crew for a really thought provoking film, a nomination for Best British Newcomer at the London Film Festival, a nomination for Best Achievement in Production at the British Independent Film Awards (BIFA) and specifically to Joanne for Winning the Most Promising Newcomer category at the BIFA!

P.S. If you can’t make it to the Curzon or your local cinema isn’t showing it (shame on them), In our Name is also available on the Curzon on Demand service - http://www.curzoncinemas.com/film_on_demand/

03/12/10
New wing opens at Combat Stress’s Leatherhead Treatment Centre, Tyrwhitt House

Back in 2009, Combat Stress received an amazing grant of £3.5 million from fellow Forces charity, Help for Heroes.

Since then we have put the money to fantastic use with a number of building projects to make sure that our facilities are more than fit for purpose in the 21st Century – this is especially important as we gear up our services for the increase in demand that we continue to see.

On 11 November 2010, Bryn and Emma Parry, co-founders of Help for Heroes, officially opened the Help for Heroes Wing at Tyrwhitt House – the latest development at Combat Stress made possible by the generosity of the charity they established.

The opening followed a poignant Service of Remembrance which was attended by Veterans, Staff and members of The Enemy Within Appeal Board including General Sir Richard Dannatt and former Rugby World Champion and ex-Army Officer, Josh Lewsey MBE.

This new building has provided the Veterans staying at our Leatherhead treatment centre with a new living zone comprising two new lounges, a new library, canteen, laundry as well as four new twin bedrooms so that carers can attend with Veterans when necessary - these new bedrooms all have en suite bathrooms suitable for disabled Veterans.

Not only is this new wing a welcome improvement to the living quarters at Tyrwhitt House but it has also allowed the next phase of work to start - the remodel of the main house.

The ground floor of the main house is currently being re-organised in order to optimise the existing space for treatment delivery – with purpose built consulting and therapy rooms.

Since 2005 we have seen a 72% increase in Veterans contacting Combat Stress for support – with no sign of this demand abating, projects like this keep us ready and able to deliver dedicated, specialist treatment for Veterans suffering from psychological injury.

Well... where to start?
Introductions first, I think.

My name is Stephen/Steve – not too fussed about which one people use. I work for Combat Stress which you may know is one of the charities that the BFBS Big Salute supports.
You can see a short film about us by searching 'Combat Stress' on this site.

That is the heart of what we do. I hope that through this blog I can also share some of the other sides of Combat Stress that we don’t always get to flag up.

When you label someone there is always a tendency for this to be the only point of reference for them, to reduce them to just that detail. Mental illness and Veteran are loaded terms; they lead people to ideas that make it easy for them to understand but often overlook the bigger picture.
A Veteran can be any age, not just the brave men and women who served in wars past, and mental health is something we all have but sometimes need help maintaining – just like physical health.

Unfortunately, because you cannot see psychological injuries, we don’t always think of them in the same way as the equally tragic physical scars. It makes it harder for all of us, sometimes even those suffering, to understand what they are going through.

Working at Combat Stress I have been privileged enough to meet some of the people who receive help from the charity and the generous volunteers that give their time and energy to raise funds and support us in various ways.