ROYAL MARINES 350
ng through gritted teeth l Chris Terrill, centre, wth Royal Marines on the frontline in Afghanistan his troop to victory that day with no men lost. Just a week later though he was to see Tom shot dead in front of him – something I know that hit him extremely hard. Tom might have been his subordinate but he was first and foremost a ‘bootneck brother’. On our return to Afghanistan we tried to assess the military legacy after 13 years of war. Was it worth the loss of 453 British lives, including 61 Royal Marines? I confess that we went out with mixed feelings until we visited a school in Kabul. In 2001 this school, Marefat High School, numbered just 37 pupils but now it numbers nearly 3,000 with 43 per cent girls. In one class a girl stood up to tell Bertie how grateful they all were for what the NATO Forces achieved and also how sorry they were for the blood that was spilt on their behalf. She asked us to thank the families of all those men who had been killed and injured but also to tell them their sacrifice had not been in vain. It was an uplifting moment and one that helped, in part, to put war and loss in perspective. Sometimes it is necessary to work pretty hard to summon cheerfulness in the face of adversity when grief is involved but here was a welcome balm, I know, to help soothe Bertie’s own sense of deep-felt loss for a comrade in arms. oyal Marines, like any soldier, know that they may have to go into harm’s way as part of their duty and, furthermore, that they might not come off best. Another Marine friend of mine is the charismatic Cpl Paul Vice, MC. I met Paul, or Vicey as we all know him, out in Nad e Ali,north
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Helmand, in 2011. The place was a hell-hole – riddled with IEDs and squirming with insurgents. After four tours of Afghanistan Vicey knew that the odds were stacking up against him especially with the IED threat ramping up – but still he led from the front. A week after he confided his fears in me he was blown up and nearly died. The quick action of one of his mates, Richie Pencott, who stuck his knee in a gaping neck wound, saved Vicey’s life. Nonetheless, he was left with grave injuries – his heart stopped three times on the evacuating helicopter. The doctors and nurses performed a miracle to save him but massive loss of blood led to brain trauma and the partial paralysis of his right arm and left leg. Three years on Vicey, still larger than life, was one of the athletes in the Invictus Games. He competed as an archer and a cyclist. In the archery he was incapable of pulling the bowstring with his right arm so, adapting to overcome, he pulled the string back with his teeth! Then in the cycling road race he and the other two British members of the team managed to open up a massive lead against the rest of the field so the final medals depended on a race to the line between them. It did not happen. Comrades in arms to the last they all crossed the line hand in hand. It was the perfect result. Everyone a winner. he Royal Marines medal tally at the Invictus Games was impressive. So much so that, as a separate group, they would have come third in the overall medal table behind the UK and the USA! Marines are good at winning
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other sorts of medals too. Of all the Conspicuous Gallantry Crosses and Military Crosses won in Afghanistan 25 per cent were awarded to Royal Marines. “Once a Marine, always a Marine” is the familiar cry of bootnecks past and present and it is precisely that sentiment that we are celebrating this year – the 350th anniversary of the Corps. This magnificent birthday is not so much a time to celebrate battle honours, as impressive as they are, but a time to acknowledge and salute what it is that makes a bootneck a bootneck – something as profound as it is inspiring. n a couple of weeks Vicey is going to hospital to have his left leg amputated. After three years of dealing with the pain and discomfort he has decided to rid himself of a limb he calls his “half dead fish” because it just “flaps around”. He will then have the opportunity of having a “Gucci” prosthetic limb with which he can start to reinvent his life all over again. “My dearest wish”, he says, “is to be able to play football with my kids again.” He has the support of his lovely wife Tessa and also an army of bootneck brothers who he knows will always be there for him. It was just before the Invictus Games that I joined Vicey and the other six Marines who were blown up with him on the third anniversary of the explosion that was to change their lives forever. They have vowed to meet every year to celebrate their survival with a beer or two. They call the day their “Bangiversary”. Cheerfulness in the face of adversity.
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l Above: Chris films the action in Kajaki, Afghanistan, in 2006 l Below, third right: Chris with M Company, 42 Cdo l Below left: Chris trained alongside recruits in 924 Troop l Below right: With Royal Marines in Afghanistan
NOVEMBER 2014 : 27