SOLDIER'S DIARY:Daily manoeuvres are a mixture of dealing with friendly locals and surviving Taliban attacks, writes Lieut Paddy Bury.
JUST EAST of the green zone is the hustle and bustle of the bazaar, Sangin's market. It straddles Highway 611, a wide road of stone and dust, for a mile. The highway is the most dangerous road in the world. Each morning, our Afghan army (ANA) comrades clear it of any improvised explosive devices planted in the night.
Amid this situation is the bazaar, a jumbled strip of motorbike shops, DIY stalls, general stores and food suppliers. All are ramshackle open-front buildings with their wares displayed proudly facing the 611. The locals are often friendly, but if the Taliban are in town they become less so. To be seen talking to International Security Assistance Force (ISAF) soldiers by the Taliban can mean losing a hand - or even your head. Nonetheless, they feel safe when we patrol through the area and ask us to share a chai or tea.
The Afghan National Police (ANP) has checkpoints on the 611 north and south of the bazaar to control traffic. Previously, these checkpoints have been targeted by the Taliban, who sneak in under cover of darkness, tell the locals to stay indoors and place lethal booby traps in the ANP's sangars. The results are devastating.
The twisting maze of high alley walls, dirt tracks, rubble and buildings is perfect territory for a homemade bomb. Taliban on motorbikes favour the "shoot and scoot", whereby they drive up to us, fire off a few rounds and run off. Added to this is the threat of the suicide bombers.
In the cramped conditions of the bazaar, they are ready to spring out on us from anywhere and detonate. We use flares to keep suspect individuals at a safe distance and explain through the ANA and interpreters the need to keep back. It is a fine balance being friendly while protecting ourselves, but something the Irishmen of Ranger Company, many from the North of Ireland, understand the importance of acuity.
Only a few days ago, as we patrolled through the green zone, collecting medical information from locals so we could fix water pumps and assess the medical infrastructure, a suicide bomber detonated himself in our midst. The first Seven Platoon knew of it was the bang and plume of black smoke and dust that rose into the air, accompanied by a flying leg.
We dived into an irrigation ditch as suspects on a motorbike skidded and ran off. We took incoming fire from our flank as Nine Platoon was engaging Taliban with rocket-propelled grenades on the other flank. We then hear on the radio net there are no friendly casualties - a huge weight from our shoulders.
Nine Platoon storms the compound from which the Taliban were firing. The engineers place a charge on the thick mud wall that blows a mouse hole for the assaulting section to get through. They go in "red", throwing stun grenades before they enter. But the Taliban have fled, leaving their battle paraphernalia in their wake.
We move through Nine Platoon and search other compounds, going in "green" without firing, and are soon talking to the friendly locals. Overhead jets and attack helicopters circle, looking for the fleeing enemy. We shake ourselves off and replenish our dwindling water supplies. We get the nod to continue the advance back to base. The threat is still high. The sun beats on our backs and our feet sting as we trudge homeward, through waist-deep irrigation ditches and the beautiful, white, pink and purple poppy fields. Sometimes this place feels like Tuscany. After 10 hours on the ground, we are all safe inside base.
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Lieut Paddy Bury from Wicklow remains on duty in Helmand province, Afghanistan