Afghanistan had been a cakewalk compared to Iraq. The Iraqis knew we were coming. They were dug in, ready to fight. The Yanks had started their 'shock and awe' campaign with the bombing of military installations across the country. Then the troops were sent in. The Royal Marines came in by sea, the rest of the army crossed the border from Kuwait, a dual strike towards the main target of Basra.
Our first target was the main Iraqi port of Umm Qasr. Alongside our American and Polish allies, we met stiff resistance, needing to clear the city street by street. It was the first time I'd led Marines into proper conflict. I honestly didn't count Afghanistan. I led men on patrol but rarely fired my weapon in anger. In fact, I could count on one hand how often I even raised it in the event of ending up in a firefight.
Umm Qasr was a sign of things to come. Clearing the city took a few days, longer than expected, compared to the original plans, that had suggested Iraqi forces would have retreated and dug in at Basra, ready for a long siege. As soon as Umm Qasr was pacified, 40 Commando was sent due north to assist in the taking of Basra.
Taking Umm Qasr had been an entrée. Basra was the main course. The Iraqis gave no suggestion they were going to give up. They fought hard and with tenacity. Very few were willing to surrender unless they were given no opportunity. As we dug in, ready to clear the entire city street by street if necessary, we were reinforced by further British units from the army and Royal Marines, and once in position, the US forced disengaged and continued north to Baghdad, leaving the taking of Basra to the UK forces present.
D Squadron of the British SAS eventually infiltrated the city, guiding in air-strikes against the leaders. Air strikes had continued throughout. Tank battles took place, leading to the destruction of the local Iraqi tank squadrons operating in the area. Sending tanks into Basra itself was problematic, particularly the old town. Even getting regular vehicles in was difficult due to the narrow confines. So the orders were to hang back and draw them out.
That's what happened, the Iraqis sending out tanks to sucker us in. We simply destroyed them from distance. Slowly but surely, we started to take suburbs, and seeing the writing on the wall, we started to take prisoners. Many were probably conscripted into fight, given a uniform and sub-standard weapon. Most of them were terrified, so we simply took their weapons and guided them towards the rear.
The battle of Basra had commenced on March 21
st
. By April 6
th
, the entire city was in the hands of the British after once of the largest tank battles since WWII. The shooting continued as we cleared out pockets of resistance but, after all that preparation, it was over within three weeks. After the battle, it was a mopping up operation.
The locals didn't know what to make of us. Some of us knew what happened twenty years before and then the fact we hadn't finished the job. But we'd had the situation explained to us before arriving. Some of us welcomes us as liberators from the tyranny of Saddam. Others were more circumspect, wondering what the future would bring. There was no two ways about it. We had invaded a sovereign nation.
But we ignored all that and simply focused on the task at hand. We cleared the region around Basra of any forces loyal to Baghdad. Gunfire persisted for a number of weeks, though it never turned into a major incident. Half the time, it was the local population celebrating something, so we turned up, scared the shit out of them before understanding what was going on, then just left them to get on with it.
The situation remained tense during our entire six-month deployment. While the majority seemed to appreciate our arrival at first, it didn't take long for them to be fed up with our continued presence, particularly once the Yanks took Baghdad and Saddam was forced to flee. Within a few months of our arrival, the riots started. Stones were met with rubber bullets. And that's ignoring the RPG and mortar attacks that were still fired at our bases.
Up north the insurgency was already in full swing. Basra simmered with tension with each month that passed by, and admittedly, while we were exhausted by the end of a six-month deployment, some of us didn't want to leave, feeling we were leaving with the job only half done. But orders were orders, and even though part of me wanted to see the job through, even if it meant six months or more in the field, I was as exhausted as anyone else. The sensible part of my mind knew going home was just what I needed.
I let everyone know when I'd be back in the UK. Just like leaving Afghanistan, we'd be stopping in Cyprus for debriefing before flying to the UK, where we'd all be given time off to rest and recuperate. Stepping off the plane back in Blighty, the fact it was grey, miserable and drizzling wasn't that much of a surprise. The usual crowd of families was waiting for the men to disembark and reunite.
Seeing no sign of any family, I figured I was just going to catch a ride on one of the buses that would take us all the way back to base. After shaking hands with a few of the lads, desperate to get home to at least some sort of normalcy with their wives and children, the crowd slowly parted and I was brought to a halt by the person waiting for me. I dumped my bag and walked towards her. She burst into tears as she embraced me tightly in return.
Amy.
"Okay, I'm going to ask this bluntly but kindly. What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked softly.
"I've missed my little brother. I've been saving like crazy to afford the airfare to fly here. I told Mum and Dad I was coming. They knew why. I spoke to Emma and Hannah, let them know. They figured it out and made sure I was here waiting for you."
"So you're single?"
"Wouldn't be here if I wasn't, Nate. I love you and need to be with you, but I couldn't do that if I was with someone."
"Sorry, that was an awful question. I know you far better than that."
"I understand why, Nate." She kissed me again. "I still love you," she whispered.
"My feelings haven't changed and will never change when it comes to you, Amy."
"Don't add a 'but'. This is your life. You are a Royal Marine Commando. I understand how hard you've worked to get to where you are. Watched a lot of videos on the internet to increase my understanding. I'm... amazed, actually. What you had to go through to make it."
I hugged her again. "Want to go back to mine?"
"My suitcase is in my hire car. I wasn't planning on going anywhere else for two weeks."
My bag in the back with hers, she chose to drive, relying on the satellite navigation to get us back to my apartment. We chatted away as she drove, and I realised rather quickly she asked me nothing about Afghanistan or Iraq, which I appreciated. Afghanistan had been shit, but we were there in the early days and spent most of the time just on patrol. I'd taken my first human life during my time in Iraq. Hadn't bothered me at the time, it was just the job I was doing. I didn't know if that was a good thing or not.
We stopped on the way for coffee, sitting in a motorway rest stop, the car, trucks and buses speeding past in the distance. It was a rather picturesque spot... for a motorway services. I bought a couple of cups, sitting outside as the drizzle had stopped, the sun starting to shine, though it still wasn't particularly warm.
"Was it bad?" she finally asked.
"Just a job, Amy. A dangerous one, and it feels like we're on the clock twenty-four hours a day, but it's just a job. That's how I deal with it, anyway."
She cuddled into my side. "No matter what, I think you're very brave," she whispered.
