Dog Soldiers: Part 1 of 3: Love, loyalty and sacrifice on the front line by Isabel George

Author:Isabel George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

Camp Bastion: 11pm, Sunday 27 July

Someone from the REME produced a hip flask. It was a welcome start to the proceedings and broke a little ice. Gazing into the darkness it looked like a disappointing turnout at first, despite there being two men making the return home. The cavernous hold of the C17 gaped open, its ramp down ready to accept the two flag-strewn coffins that sat in the back of the waiting field ambulances. As the lights came up to illuminate the runway the beams caught the truth of the scene. Row upon row of uniformed personnel were waiting in silence. It seemed as if the whole of Camp Bastion had turned out.

Certainly Frank’s wish to get as many dog soldiers there as possible had been granted and the Engineers at the Joint Forces EOD (Explosives Ordnance Disposal) had performed miracles. They had worked with Ken and Sasha and were used to the job split: the dog soldiers locate the explosives and the bomb squad blow them up. It was a good relationship and they felt the loss as keenly as Frank and the rest of his team. Using all their powers and man-management skills, the EOD had successfully brought in all but three of their teams from the various FOBs to attend the ceremony. These were the faces, many tear-stained, shining out of the darkness.

The bearers took the strain of the weight of the coffin first in their hands and then on their shoulders. The practice weight was lighter than this but the responsibility was heavier. Frank Holmes took the rear position, ready to instruct and push up as the party took the slow and careful incline up the ramp and into the body of the plane. Sasha’s former handler, Sergeant Andy Dodds, took front left position: ‘The concentration was immense. The plane is meant to take cargo so the ramp is designed to be smooth underfoot and as I looked ahead to prepare for my first step up I couldn’t help noticing the number of people present and the dogs, too. As I took that first step onto the ramp I became very aware of my legs and feet. I only wanted them to do what my head was telling them. I’m sure all of us were feeling the same. Marianne was walking alone behind us, her arms around the shell casing containing Sasha’s ashes. I’ve no doubt she was trying her very best to hold back tears right to the point where she placed the casing at the head of the coffin.

When Marianne Hay accepted the honour of carrying Sasha’s ashes onto the plane at Camp Bastion she did it to ensure that the dog she trained was repatriated in the way of a hero, to sit at the feet of another hero, her friend and fellow search dog handler, Lance Corporal Kenneth Rowe. With tears welling in her eyes for the loss of the dog she considered closest to her heart and the man she

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