CHAD DIARY:I WAKE with a boot from Corporal Armstrong who tells me politely that it's time to get up. It's five in the morning and still dark, about three hours since I went to bed having done sentry duty, and I'm 25 today. This year there will be no hitting the town, because I'm in the middle of the Chadian desert, 5,226km (3,247mls) away from home. A swift kick takes me away from this thought emphasising the need to get up.
Happy Birthday Jim.
It’s the final day of our first patrol as we have been tasked with patrolling up to a town, close to the Sudanese border that crosses straight into the troubled area of Darfur. Given the current political situation in Sudan, the atmosphere on both sides of the border is tense to say the least.
Information reports we have received outline various rebel factions of anything from 2,000 to 5,500 ready to move a few short kilometres away on the far side of the border. And here I am along with an Irish company patrol also thrown into the mix.
In the event of the whole thing “kicking off” between the rebels and ANT (Armée National Tchad), as it did in June of last year, our job as peace enforcers is to ensure that no harm becomes any of the humanitarian organisations, internally displaced persons, or Sudanese refugees in the area. Yesterday we saw the ANT defensive positions who are evidently on high alert.
One of the main reasons Irish troops spend so much of their time patrolling these far out regions is to reassure these people that we are here, they are safe, because we will protect them. The sight of professional EUfor soldiers also deters potentially hostile parties.
Following a quick order from the boss, the crew of “seven-zero” (my vehicle’s radio call-sign), mount up and hit the road. This war-torn country is void of any form of infrastructure, other than a series of intertwined dirt tracks that cross a number of dry river beds, which are potential hazards for vehicles to break down and get bogged. To help avoid this happening the cavalry act as pathfinders operating forward of the main body as a form of advance party.
Our primary role is to navigate for the convoy, which is much easier than you might think as there are no roads for you to take a wrong turn! But the sand is so fine it forms a thick dust cloud hindering visibility and can make breathing difficult, along with ambient heat rising up to mid to high 40s. Drivers are constantly negotiating the unforgiving terrain and on the lookout for local civilians, livestock, and wildlife, which are liable to jump out of the dust cloud in front of vehicles at any stage.
Halfway to our destination, we pull in to another village again to meet the local “players” as before. This pit stop gives drivers a chance to rotate and also carry out a quick check of the car. The 12-week driving course teaching us to drive armoured vehicles not only covers handling difficult terrain, but also and more importantly, ongoing maintenance to keep them in working order because out here they are our lifeline. Any halt by the convoy is done tactically, the vehicles are deployed to offer security and troops are deployed for same.
Two hours later we rolled into camp for much sought after luxuries such as showers and fresh food, but only after vehicles were unpacked, cleaned, filled and restocked for the next mission given that we can be deployed at a moment’s notice. As if to prove this point, as we’re preparing the cars, an operational order comes through stating we’re out again first thing the following morning.
As the commander this time, I’ve just enough time to make a plan and deliver a set of verbal orders for a patrol heading 30km north to escort an explosive ordnance disposal team to destroy a rocket found at a local village. Guess I’ll have to take a raincheck on the birthday cake.
Capt Cahill remains on duty with the Defence Forces in Chad