SANDBAGS decorate the walls, wooden planks balanced on empty ammo boxes are sofas and the less than fragrant smell of the latrines can be detected well in advance of a sighting.Contact with the world outside their Hesco bastion and barbed wire home at the Sangin District Centre is limited for the troops of A Company, 1st Battalion, The Royal Anglian Regiment and its attachments. Privacy inside the wire is equally tight. Mosquito nets enveloping camp beds provide flimsy screens from neighbouring cots squeezed into the few rooms before overflowing onto roofs and terraces. Men have communal shaves in front of broken mirror shards and women sneak down to the river for a wash after dark. Quiet corners for letting off steam in a bluey home are at a premium and nobody can escape the reality of the Taliban lurking round the corner, especially when your body armour has evolved as your second skin.
The austere routine of life reflects the daily threat of attacks troops live with in Sangin. Downtime with an out-of-date magazine or contemplative cigarette always carries the edge of having to respond to an emergency at a moment’s notice.
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