Regards, Ivan
Posted on 03/15/2003 6:29:46 PM PST by MadIvan
THE ammunition arrived today - 300 tonnes of shells, mortar bombs, grenades, machine gun rounds and bullets for the rifles.
The soldiers paused about their daily business to watch the first column of 10 trucks trundling towards the desert kicking up clouds of dust in their wake. It was a distraction from their routines and another sign, if any more were needed, that the time for waiting around in the Kuwaiti desert is drawing to an end.
In this barren patch of sand near Kuwait’s northern border with Iraq, where Britain’s 1st Armoured Division has made its temporary home, any distraction is welcomed.
Weeks of waiting for the politicians to make up their minds on whether there will be a war are having an effect. If they are to fight, they say, they would rather fight now.
For Private Mark Currie, 18, from Dunfermline, it is the waiting which is most frustrating. "I would rather get going because at least then it would be all over. The sooner we get going, the sooner we’ll be home," he said.
"If I was talking to Tony Blair I would say to him let us get over there and find those weapons that you’re looking for. If it’s going to happen, let’s get on with it."
For Lance Corporal Kevin Dowdles, 23, from Dundee, the desire to get on with it overrides his natural caution about what the troops will encounter if they go to war.
"Nobody really wants to go to war but it’s boring sitting about and if that’s what we’ve got to do we’ve got to do it.
"Everybody wants to go because that’s what we joined the army for. I’m a bit anxious because we don’t know what to expect - nobody knows the final plan - but I think I’d like to get going now."
Even in the shade of the camouflage netting draped over the fighting vehicles parked up in the sand, it is not hard to understand why.
The temperature is rising every day and summer is coming, bringing with it the promise of daily readings of 50C or more.
Even now, the bustle of activity falls off around the middle of the day, the soldiers retreating under the netting to sit around reading, playing cards or writing home. If they have to wait much longer they will be fighting in conditions which will sap their strength and stamina.
The threat of chemical or biological attacks only worsens the situation, bringing with it the prospect of trying to fight not only in the blazing sun but in full nuclear, biological and chemical warfare suits - heavy, hooded, carbon-lined jackets and trousers worn with rubber gloves and boots and a respirator.
It is impossible to wear them for long without tiring, degrading the ability of the soldiers to fight for any length of time.
And there are other hardships to endure on the flat, treeless plane. The wind gusts in unexpectedly, whipping up the sand and blowing it into the eyes of anyone unwise enough to venture out without ski goggles.
But although conditions are basic and power supplies sometimes fail, pitching the mess tent into darkness, no one is complaining too much. The troops know they are here for a purpose and they are getting on with what they have to do.
And although they dislike the waiting, the truth is that no one really believes that they will be waiting much longer.
Even in the heart of the night when the temperature has plummeted and the desert should be at its most still, the air is full of the sounds of an army preparing for war.
Trucks arrive from bases behind the front positions, Land Rovers shuttle backwards and forwards and armoured vehicles head out into the night on exercise.
In the early morning soldiers are out doing PT, helicopters arrive and depart, tanks roll across the desert. There are exercises, refresher drills and firing practice on the ranges nearer the border. Everywhere there are signs of preparation for conflict.
The arrival of the ammunition only seems to heighten that sensation. Until now the troops have been equipped only with training ammunition, which was enough for practice and would have doubled as operational ammunition if push came to shove - but it was nowhere near enough to launch a full-scale assault across the border.
The 300 tonnes which arrived yesterday are what is described as ‘front scale’ ammunition - enough to complete the task their commander believes they will be given if war comes. The convoy of trucks which brought it travelled to the camp from the port of Shiba, escorted by their own armed guards.
It is all bar coded and must be scanned when it arrives to ensure nothing is missing, then the batch numbers checked to ensure that those in charge of the distribution know where it is going so it can be traced if any faults are found.
Once checked in, some goes to the fighting troops and their vehicles, some to A1, which operates just behind them, ensuring those on the front line don’t run out, and some to A2, the static echelon, which remains about 30km behind the front line.
The man in charge of ensuring that everything is where it should be is Captain John Stevenson, who operates with A1 and likens his job to a shop delivery service. "A2 is like Tesco and I’m the delivery man picking it up and taking it to the customer," he says.
The sheer volume of ammunition arriving at the camp leaves little doubt that the British Army is now expecting to fight.
Within eight hours of its arrival, the Challenger tanks had been loaded up with their high explosive shells and their smoke shells, the Warrior armoured cars had their 30 millimetre rounds and the troops were walking around the camp with full ammunition clips.
The camp itself is vast - row upon row of trucks in long lines and tanks and armoured cars scattered across a kilometre of desert.
Engineers work on the vehicles, stripping out engines; supplies are brought in and more equipment arrives daily.
Yesterday the troops were practising their NBC skills - learning how to decontaminate their vehicles should they be attacked with chemical or biological weapons.
It was more useful practice, but it also helps focus the minds on the reality of the situation they are in. Nightfall, too, brings another reminder. As the daylight fades, the lights of the Kuwaiti oilfields a few miles to the north begin to shine.
Beyond the oilfields is the border, and across a narrow strip of no man’s land beyond that, Iraq.
As the preparations reach a crescendo, few of those looking north towards that border believe they will be camped on the Kuwaiti side for much longer.
Regards, Ivan
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Metric tonnes or english tonnes? :)
I do feel for the Scottish troops, they are from a cold climate. I dang near froze to death in Edinborough, in July.
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