Friday 1st May
The official Remembrance Service might have been yesterday but as I started to emerge from my concrete box for what will be the last time I had a few moments of contemplation about the last few years.
I hope that it has been worth the 179 British and the many others, particularly the innocent Iraqis that have had to give their lives to further democracy in this hot but beautiful country. Let the enormity of each and every one of their deaths not be in vain.
From the first frustrating days in Kuwait when we were stuck doing innumerable “The Final Checks Before The Off” pieces, to filming out of the turret of an armoured vehicle as we drove noisily but uneventfully over the border a few days later.
The great courtesy and respect that we were given by the members of The Scots DGs and The Irish Guards along with the freedom we were given to report without any restraints.
The long days broadcasting to organisations all over the world as the events unfolded.
The nights of sleeping beside our armoured vehicles as we moved closer and closer to Basra, always under constant threat of attack.
The day I went into Basra with the guys as they fought their way in and the city was “liberated”.
The sad news, that late on that day after a bloodless battle from the British point of view two Irish Guards were shot by a sniper.
The happy Basrawis coming to speak to us whilst we broadcasted live from the City for the first time.
The trip we made a year later driving up from Kuwait in a hire car.
The Basrawi people we visited with their positive outlook on the future and their happy disposition.
The various, pretty much annual trips I have had to the base here.
The sound of the alarm that meant there was something not very pleasant on it’s way.
The time spent face down in the dust with everyone else waiting for where it would hit and sometimes hearing a dull distant thump as the rocket landed.
The many helpful, professional and the good humoured soldiers and civilians I have met keen to be of assistance.
The memories playing like a classic well loved movie in my head as we went to this morning’s location.
The ladies housed in a big tent near the DFAC facility were getting ready to ship out in two days time. They were able to bring out some of their packed kit to use as a backdrop. It was piled up around the entrance to the tent.
We chose that particular tent because it had a Union Jack flying and a little patio affair made up of scrap bits of timber, making it look quite homely.
Richard Rehearsing the Words
There was also a nice sign hanging up which added to the welcoming look.
The girls were very amused and slightly surprised that we were going to show the sign on national TV. I could not see what was causing the girls to giggle at the thought that the great British breakfasting public would see their art work.
The Sign!
I felt a bit naive, but felt I had to ask.
“Think of a camel toe, only bigger.” was the reply
“Ah!”
A while ago when I did a live broadcast with one of the GMTV main presenters
The idea of getting it on now was much more exciting. It is great fun when you can get an in joke on the telly.
This morning had it’s frustrations. We did a test of the Satellite equipment, linking up with the studio back in London. Everything worked perfectly. A short time later we attempted to link up again but without any joy. So we missed the first transmission. The rest were alright.
Trying to make a call was particularly frustrating this morning. The call would connect for a few fleeting seconds before dropping out.
After the last transmission of a busy and very eventful week Richard and I shook hands happy with the work that we had done.
Auntie Anne’s Pretzel cabin a little oasis of steaming hot cappuccinos, lattes and tasty cinnamon pretzels was where along with the rest of the media pack we congregated to chat over the events of the week.
The Media Relax at Anne's.
It was now that in the middle of what is still classified as a War Zone and the standing orders from the British military is either to wear body armour or have it to had at all times that there was the only injury to any member of the press. Gavin Hewitt, the BBC Special Correspondent was the victim of an unprovoked attack by a cup of coffee.
He ended up with a pretty impressive bandage covering a painful scalded hand.
The hope was that from mid morning until our flight out to Kuwait at ten thirty at night we could enjoy the sun and relax for a few hours.
The military machine has a way of scuppering the best laid plans.
As we all started to do our own thing in the big tent, looking forward to maybe reading, listening to music or sitting in the sun the announcement was made that we needed to have all our kit and bags packed in fifteen minutes.
We were to spent the next chunk of time getting the bags and boxes checked in for the flight much later.
As the sun started to sink down in the hazy Iraqi evening sky we did get nearly an hour of just sitting, or in my case lying in the sun.
The journey out to the comfort of Kuwait in the utilitarian Hercules was noisy, cramped and a bit uncomfortable but uneventful.
Inside the dim and noisy Hercules. (Huw Edwards covering his ears)
At least the BBC main Presenter came on the rather uncomfortable flight with the rest of the crew. He also had a little concrete bed box as we did. This was unlike the seemingly rather precious Mark Austin who got the Media Ops people to organise his departure much earlier in a helicopter to Kuwait and he had to have slightly better accommodation than the rest of us.
We got off the aircraft and were bused to the UK military arrivals area where we were to meet up with the kit. When we got there they said just grab your bags from the pallet and come round to the bus that will take you to the civilian side of the airport.
When we told them the minimum kit we each had was two big bags and that there was over a ton of equipment on the pallet they were a bit surprised.
It took a little time to get the bus round to us and the pallet full of gear. It was getting close to 1 am. We were all keen to get a bit of sleep before the flight home in the morning. So, it did not take us too long to load the bus as everyone from ITN, the BBC and us little old GMTV did their bit of humping and carrying.
The bus slowly drove off and was heading for a brightly lit building in the middle of the darkness of the night. We passed the building, came to a roundabout and went back in the direction we had come passing the military exit we had come out of about five minutes before.
It was another annoyingly long time before we arrived at the terminal. Once there we all again mucked in to get the multitude of baggage off the bus.
The pile being sorted out.
The pavement outside the terminal was stacked with our bits and pieces. The bus drove off and we started sorting what was what and who's was who's. The bus had not been gone long when we realised there were a few things missing. A compartment on the bus had not been emptied.
There were representatives of the US Army in the Starbucks in the airport to deal with any problems. I went down to see of they could help.
At one end of the coffee shop there were four casually dressed people pottering about on computers. There were a couple of large military looking bags on one of the seats. I asked one of the guys if they were from the US Army. He said that he was.
I explained the situation about the bus and the kit that was still on it. He made a call and briefly spoke to whoever it was who answered. He appeared to get no joy. He asked me to speak to the guy that was on the other end.
He handed the mobile handset to me. Once again I explained the situation. In a very heavy American accent the voice the guy babbled a lot of Army acronyms at me about where the bus had come from and where it was going to.
I told him that I did not understand all the military jargon and gave him the story yet again. This time I made sure I spoke slowly and clearly.
This time the reply was a little shorter on military terms but not much. He was going on about the bus being a different one when I said that all he needed to do was contact the driver to get him to turn around.
In the end I had to give up and hand the phone back to the guy in the seat. He just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
At this point Rachel the BBC producer and Paul the ITN producer arrived to see if they could have a go because some of their gear was also missing.
I left them to it so that I could get at least some sleep.
Richard and I checked into our very nice hotel. After all the mucking about we were going to amass a total of three hours in the room before we needed to be leaving to check in for the flight to London later in the morning.
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