ianstone
08-08-2010, 06:08 AM
Stuart Webb The Guardian (http://www.guardian.co.uk/theguardian), Saturday 7 August 2010
Article history (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/aug/07/bomb-disposal-experts-afghanistan#history-link-box)
http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/About/General/2010/8/3/1280849932467/IEDs--001.jpg Staff Sergeant Gareth 'Woody' Wood does the lonely walk - he alone has to approach the IED, leaving his support crew a safe distance behind. Photograph: Stuart Webb Guardsman James Stephenson is just 20 years old, but when the soldiers of the 1st Battalion of the Coldstream Guards (http://www.army.mod.uk/infantry/regiments/3484.aspx) leave their base in the Babaji area of Helmand, he leads the patrol. Stephenson's nickname is "Steveo", but on duty in Afghanistan (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/afghanistan), everyone calls him "Vallon Man". The Vallon is the metal detector used to sweep for bombs – and being a Vallon Man is one of the army's most dangerous jobs.
The last five years have seen a sharp increase in the use of IEDs (improvised explosive devices) in Afghanistan. According to figures leaked last month, the number of IEDs increased from 308 in 2004 to 7,155 last year (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/datablog/interactive/2010/jul/26/ied-afghanistan-war-logs); a total of 16,000 were planted in those five years, killing at least 7,000 Afghan civilians. These devices have also caused the vast majority of all British and American deaths during the conflict, and are seriously hampering Nato's operations in the country. Of the IEDs recorded in last month's figures, 8,582 were found and cleared, but 7,553 exploded. The threat is so high that every patrol must be led by a soldier sweeping with a metal detector. However, the insurgents have started cutting down on the metal they use in the devices, making them harder to detect and more likely to have their desired effect.
In February, Stephenson's friend Lance Corporal Darren Hicks (http://www.mod.uk/DefenceInternet/DefenceNews/MilitaryOperations/LanceCorporalDarrenHicksKilledInAfghanistan.htm), from the same battalion, stepped on an IED and was killed while patrolling as a Vallon Man. Five of the battalion's soldiers have died during this tour and a further six have lost their legs – all victims of IEDs. Stephenson admits to feeling terrified each time he leaves the gates of the patrol base.
The patrol is on the move. An Afghan interpreter with the Coldstreams monitors the Taliban (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/taliban)'s radio transmissions and relays what they say to the company commander – everyone can hear. The soldiers pause at a farm compound and, over the radio, the insurgents say they have laid IEDs to the south of the patrol and prepared an ambush to the west. Stephenson looks nervous. With a pistol in one hand and a metal detector in the other, he steps out of the compound to face whatever is waiting.
His instinct must be to move quickly, but Stephenson can go only at walking pace, otherwise he risks missing the metal signal for a bomb. Everyone must follow him – at a distance. A shouted warning from the sergeant major leaves no room for doubt: "Don't get too close to Vallon Man – if he goes up you'll go with him."
The patrol reaches a stream and clambers down into the water. Any hope that the steep banks can offer protection is quickly dispelled by the shrill noise of incoming fire. Soldiers dive for cover, but it's over in moments. The Coldstreams call them "shoot and scoots". Outgunned by Nato's superior firepower, the Taliban have changed tactics. Now they are fighting the war with IEDs and hit-and-run attacks. During their three-day patrol, the Coldstreams are ambushed around 20 times.
Moving off, I look at Vallon Man just ahead of me. Standing bolt upright he sets off again – out front and alone.
Once an IED is found, the task of dealing with it is handed over to a bomb disposal expert like Staff Sergeant Gareth Wood. It takes eight to 10 years to train a bomb disposal specialist to the standard required to work in Helmand – longer than a doctor or a barrister – and among candidates there's only a 14% pass rate. The work in Afghanistan is considered so dangerous and stressful that bomb disposal operators will be asked to do only one six-month deployment to the region. Their first tour will also be their last.
"Woody" finished the final part of his advanced training in 2008. In September of that year, Warrant Officer Gary O'Donnell became the first British bomb disposal operator to be killed in Afghanistan. For Woody, the news was a stark reality check: "The first killed was a real shock, because up to then we had always beaten the bomb. No one had been killed since the 80s."
A further three bomb disposal specialists have since died, along with five Royal Engineers searchers. Usually, when soldiers call in an IED find, the exact location is unclear, and there may be other IEDs in the immediate area. A Royal Engineer search team goes in first, to identify and confirm the location of the IED, and to find a safe path for the bomb disposal specialist to reach it. Sergeant Kevin O'Dwyer heads the search team: "It's not been a good tour for us – terrible. The losses among the counter-IED force are phenomenal." O'Dwyer's best friend was one of those killed. He helped carry the coffin at his funeral.
The bomb disposal teams are very small and close-knit – all the specialists know each other and many spend years training and working together. Any loss or injury is a terrible blow to such a small community. In October last year, Staff Sergeant Olaf Schmid (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/nov/02/british-soldier-died-defusing-bomb)was killed on the final day of his tour, while defusing his 65th bomb. Woody and Olaf had trained together and been close friends for 10 years. Woody, who is married with three-year-old twin daughters, was at Olaf's funeral and was given the cigars from Olaf's kit. He smoked one after defusing the first bomb on his tour. He's keeping another for his return to Britain: he wants to share it with Olaf's widow, Christina.
While in Afghanistan, Woody is in constant demand. In the evenings, the British commanders hold a conference call rounding up the day's events. It is usually a catalogue of IED finds and explosions: foot patrols and vehicles are frequently hit – many soldiers owe their survival to a new generation of mine-resistant vehicles. "In Northern Ireland during the Troubles, you might do five or six [IEDs] in a whole six-month tour. You can do that in a day in Helmand," Woody says. He doesn't keep a tally of the number of bombs he has defused – he says it's bad luck. "Some of the guys who kept tallies aren't with us now."
The bombs are generally low-tech: simple, easy to make and deadly. The insurgents use whatever is to hand. The most common IEDs use what is called a "pressure plate": an explosive, often farming fertiliser, is housed in a yellow cooking oil container; the trigger is two strips of metal that are then attached to electrical wires and batteries. When the two pieces of metal are pressed together – by a soldier's foot or vehicle wheel – an electrical circuit is formed, causing the bomb to explode.
Once an IED is found, Woody gears up to move in. Despite having an 11-strong search team and a column of armoured vehicles and soldiers to protect him, he makes the final approach on foot and alone. The soldiers call it "the lonely walk".
"It's quite surreal really, you're just on your own in your own little world. It's pretty normal to us – it's not abnormal, although to most people it would be." Woody doesn't wear a huge bomb suit like those depicted in Hollywood movie The Hurt Locker – in the real world of bomb disposal in Helmand, they are too hot and cumbersome. Instead, he wears the same body armour as any other British soldier. Using little more than a paintbrush and his bare hands, he gently reveals the device. It's a kind of deadly archaeology – his head just inches from the bomb.
Woody is remarkably calm, thoughtful and level-headed. But every now and then he reveals an insight into the tremendous stress and danger he faces. Before he sets off in the morning, to clear IEDs from a section of road near Nad-e-Ali in Helmand, he confesses to me a real apprehension about the day ahead. "I've got an odd feeling today, and not a good odd feeling. There's new devices going in the ground which are potentially targeting specific people. So we'll just have to keep our wits about us."
When he says "targeting specific people", Woody means himself. He knows bomb disposal experts are a prime target for the Taliban; the bomb-makers are constantly devising new methods to catch them out. The second IED of the day, for example, has a normal pressure-plate mechanism – but hidden under a stone nearby is also a pressure release trigger, working in completely the opposite way. If Woody had lifted the stone to clear it while working on the IED, the release of pressure would have detonated the bomb.
By late afternoon Woody is on bomb number three. He's been working for seven hours without a break. Through the zoom lens of my camera I can see he is struggling with the hard earth around the IED, which has set like concrete in the baking sun. He looks hot, tired and frustrated. Woody takes off his helmet. It's a shocking sight to see his bare head right next to the bomb. He's dealing with the biggest IED of the day. It's big enough to blow up any military (http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/military) vehicle. Being that close, no amount of body armour would save him.
There are so many IEDs that the team unwittingly drove past four on their way to deal with the first reported bomb. The others were found later by passing patrols. Two are at the side of the road and will be marked and dealt with the next day. But the others are in the middle of the road and block their route back. The team was lucky not to have triggered the bombs on their way out. Woody looks exhausted, but he wearily clambers back out of the armoured vehicle so the soldier who found this latest bomb can tell him where it is. "I hear you've found me another fucking bomb," he says.
It's dark before Woody detonates the last of these IEDs. In over 11 hours of nonstop work, he's dealt with five bombs. He already has four lined up for tomorrow – and all this on a stretch of road measuring just a few hundred metres. A pinprick on the map of Helmand. Besides, as Woody knows, as quickly as he can take the bombs out of the ground by day, the insurgents will return by night and lay new ones.
Woody, however, remains philosophical. "Soldiers often say, 'You must be mad. Why do it?' But I'd rather do this than be some 18-year-old soldier patrolling around and stepping on one and losing my legs. When I find one, I'm OK – I know it's there and I know what I'm doing. It's the ones you don't find that worry me."
[B]• Stuart Webb is a journalist with Channel
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Article history (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/aug/07/bomb-disposal-experts-afghanistan#history-link-box)
http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Guardian/About/General/2010/8/3/1280849932467/IEDs--001.jpg Staff Sergeant Gareth 'Woody' Wood does the lonely walk - he alone has to approach the IED, leaving his support crew a safe distance behind. Photograph: Stuart Webb Guardsman James Stephenson is just 20 years old, but when the soldiers of the 1st Battalion of the Coldstream Guards (http://www.army.mod.uk/infantry/regiments/3484.aspx) leave their base in the Babaji area of Helmand, he leads the patrol. Stephenson's nickname is "Steveo", but on duty in Afghanistan (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/afghanistan), everyone calls him "Vallon Man". The Vallon is the metal detector used to sweep for bombs – and being a Vallon Man is one of the army's most dangerous jobs.
The last five years have seen a sharp increase in the use of IEDs (improvised explosive devices) in Afghanistan. According to figures leaked last month, the number of IEDs increased from 308 in 2004 to 7,155 last year (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/datablog/interactive/2010/jul/26/ied-afghanistan-war-logs); a total of 16,000 were planted in those five years, killing at least 7,000 Afghan civilians. These devices have also caused the vast majority of all British and American deaths during the conflict, and are seriously hampering Nato's operations in the country. Of the IEDs recorded in last month's figures, 8,582 were found and cleared, but 7,553 exploded. The threat is so high that every patrol must be led by a soldier sweeping with a metal detector. However, the insurgents have started cutting down on the metal they use in the devices, making them harder to detect and more likely to have their desired effect.
In February, Stephenson's friend Lance Corporal Darren Hicks (http://www.mod.uk/DefenceInternet/DefenceNews/MilitaryOperations/LanceCorporalDarrenHicksKilledInAfghanistan.htm), from the same battalion, stepped on an IED and was killed while patrolling as a Vallon Man. Five of the battalion's soldiers have died during this tour and a further six have lost their legs – all victims of IEDs. Stephenson admits to feeling terrified each time he leaves the gates of the patrol base.
The patrol is on the move. An Afghan interpreter with the Coldstreams monitors the Taliban (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/taliban)'s radio transmissions and relays what they say to the company commander – everyone can hear. The soldiers pause at a farm compound and, over the radio, the insurgents say they have laid IEDs to the south of the patrol and prepared an ambush to the west. Stephenson looks nervous. With a pistol in one hand and a metal detector in the other, he steps out of the compound to face whatever is waiting.
His instinct must be to move quickly, but Stephenson can go only at walking pace, otherwise he risks missing the metal signal for a bomb. Everyone must follow him – at a distance. A shouted warning from the sergeant major leaves no room for doubt: "Don't get too close to Vallon Man – if he goes up you'll go with him."
The patrol reaches a stream and clambers down into the water. Any hope that the steep banks can offer protection is quickly dispelled by the shrill noise of incoming fire. Soldiers dive for cover, but it's over in moments. The Coldstreams call them "shoot and scoots". Outgunned by Nato's superior firepower, the Taliban have changed tactics. Now they are fighting the war with IEDs and hit-and-run attacks. During their three-day patrol, the Coldstreams are ambushed around 20 times.
Moving off, I look at Vallon Man just ahead of me. Standing bolt upright he sets off again – out front and alone.
Once an IED is found, the task of dealing with it is handed over to a bomb disposal expert like Staff Sergeant Gareth Wood. It takes eight to 10 years to train a bomb disposal specialist to the standard required to work in Helmand – longer than a doctor or a barrister – and among candidates there's only a 14% pass rate. The work in Afghanistan is considered so dangerous and stressful that bomb disposal operators will be asked to do only one six-month deployment to the region. Their first tour will also be their last.
"Woody" finished the final part of his advanced training in 2008. In September of that year, Warrant Officer Gary O'Donnell became the first British bomb disposal operator to be killed in Afghanistan. For Woody, the news was a stark reality check: "The first killed was a real shock, because up to then we had always beaten the bomb. No one had been killed since the 80s."
A further three bomb disposal specialists have since died, along with five Royal Engineers searchers. Usually, when soldiers call in an IED find, the exact location is unclear, and there may be other IEDs in the immediate area. A Royal Engineer search team goes in first, to identify and confirm the location of the IED, and to find a safe path for the bomb disposal specialist to reach it. Sergeant Kevin O'Dwyer heads the search team: "It's not been a good tour for us – terrible. The losses among the counter-IED force are phenomenal." O'Dwyer's best friend was one of those killed. He helped carry the coffin at his funeral.
The bomb disposal teams are very small and close-knit – all the specialists know each other and many spend years training and working together. Any loss or injury is a terrible blow to such a small community. In October last year, Staff Sergeant Olaf Schmid (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/nov/02/british-soldier-died-defusing-bomb)was killed on the final day of his tour, while defusing his 65th bomb. Woody and Olaf had trained together and been close friends for 10 years. Woody, who is married with three-year-old twin daughters, was at Olaf's funeral and was given the cigars from Olaf's kit. He smoked one after defusing the first bomb on his tour. He's keeping another for his return to Britain: he wants to share it with Olaf's widow, Christina.
While in Afghanistan, Woody is in constant demand. In the evenings, the British commanders hold a conference call rounding up the day's events. It is usually a catalogue of IED finds and explosions: foot patrols and vehicles are frequently hit – many soldiers owe their survival to a new generation of mine-resistant vehicles. "In Northern Ireland during the Troubles, you might do five or six [IEDs] in a whole six-month tour. You can do that in a day in Helmand," Woody says. He doesn't keep a tally of the number of bombs he has defused – he says it's bad luck. "Some of the guys who kept tallies aren't with us now."
The bombs are generally low-tech: simple, easy to make and deadly. The insurgents use whatever is to hand. The most common IEDs use what is called a "pressure plate": an explosive, often farming fertiliser, is housed in a yellow cooking oil container; the trigger is two strips of metal that are then attached to electrical wires and batteries. When the two pieces of metal are pressed together – by a soldier's foot or vehicle wheel – an electrical circuit is formed, causing the bomb to explode.
Once an IED is found, Woody gears up to move in. Despite having an 11-strong search team and a column of armoured vehicles and soldiers to protect him, he makes the final approach on foot and alone. The soldiers call it "the lonely walk".
"It's quite surreal really, you're just on your own in your own little world. It's pretty normal to us – it's not abnormal, although to most people it would be." Woody doesn't wear a huge bomb suit like those depicted in Hollywood movie The Hurt Locker – in the real world of bomb disposal in Helmand, they are too hot and cumbersome. Instead, he wears the same body armour as any other British soldier. Using little more than a paintbrush and his bare hands, he gently reveals the device. It's a kind of deadly archaeology – his head just inches from the bomb.
Woody is remarkably calm, thoughtful and level-headed. But every now and then he reveals an insight into the tremendous stress and danger he faces. Before he sets off in the morning, to clear IEDs from a section of road near Nad-e-Ali in Helmand, he confesses to me a real apprehension about the day ahead. "I've got an odd feeling today, and not a good odd feeling. There's new devices going in the ground which are potentially targeting specific people. So we'll just have to keep our wits about us."
When he says "targeting specific people", Woody means himself. He knows bomb disposal experts are a prime target for the Taliban; the bomb-makers are constantly devising new methods to catch them out. The second IED of the day, for example, has a normal pressure-plate mechanism – but hidden under a stone nearby is also a pressure release trigger, working in completely the opposite way. If Woody had lifted the stone to clear it while working on the IED, the release of pressure would have detonated the bomb.
By late afternoon Woody is on bomb number three. He's been working for seven hours without a break. Through the zoom lens of my camera I can see he is struggling with the hard earth around the IED, which has set like concrete in the baking sun. He looks hot, tired and frustrated. Woody takes off his helmet. It's a shocking sight to see his bare head right next to the bomb. He's dealing with the biggest IED of the day. It's big enough to blow up any military (http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/military) vehicle. Being that close, no amount of body armour would save him.
There are so many IEDs that the team unwittingly drove past four on their way to deal with the first reported bomb. The others were found later by passing patrols. Two are at the side of the road and will be marked and dealt with the next day. But the others are in the middle of the road and block their route back. The team was lucky not to have triggered the bombs on their way out. Woody looks exhausted, but he wearily clambers back out of the armoured vehicle so the soldier who found this latest bomb can tell him where it is. "I hear you've found me another fucking bomb," he says.
It's dark before Woody detonates the last of these IEDs. In over 11 hours of nonstop work, he's dealt with five bombs. He already has four lined up for tomorrow – and all this on a stretch of road measuring just a few hundred metres. A pinprick on the map of Helmand. Besides, as Woody knows, as quickly as he can take the bombs out of the ground by day, the insurgents will return by night and lay new ones.
Woody, however, remains philosophical. "Soldiers often say, 'You must be mad. Why do it?' But I'd rather do this than be some 18-year-old soldier patrolling around and stepping on one and losing my legs. When I find one, I'm OK – I know it's there and I know what I'm doing. It's the ones you don't find that worry me."
[B]• Stuart Webb is a journalist with Channel
http://static.guim.co.uk/static/92977/common/styles/images/gallery_left_arrow.gif (http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/gallery/2010/aug/07/afghanistan-military?picture=365420456)
2 / 8
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