SOLDIER'S DIARY:British soldiers face rockets, grenades and rifle-fire in an Afghanistan ambush, writes Lieut Paddy Bury
Zip. Zip. Crack. Crack. Whoosh. Bang. Whoosh. Boom. Zip. ZipZipZip. Crack. CrackCrackCrack.
"Contact! Small arms and RPGs. Wait out!"
"Get down! Get down!"
Chaos reigns.
One Section hurl themselves into a watery ditch, as rocket propelled grenades explode only feet in front of them, showering them in dust.
Overhead, bullets tear into the trees, scattering splinters and foliage over them and landing just yards behind.
"Watch the flanks! Watch the flanks!" I yell to try to combat the suicide bomb threat.
Three Section, who had been escorting a quad motorbike laden with our supplies from the compound we had been staying in, are caught in the open.
"Move left! Move left!"
As a rocket-propelled grenade self-detonates mid-air sending shrapnel screaming around him, the quad driver decides it's time to abandon his juicy target and rushes for cover with his section who have positioned themselves between it and the enemy. Meanwhile, One Section have composed themselves and are now returning fire.
"There! 400 metres. Left edge of compound. Two by Taliban."
"Seen! Seen! Seen!" reply the rangers.
"Raaaapid fire!"
Bullets start winging toward the enemy. In the hail of copper that clatters around them the Taliban are momentarily suppressed. Two Section take advantage and break from their paltry protection behind a mound in an open field and dash for the cover of some ruins, closer to the enemy.
The Taliban fight back. Zip. Zipzipzipzip. Crack. Crackcrackcrack. Whoosh. Boom!
"There! Eleven o'clock. RPG man."
Tim, our US Marine Corps sniper, has already whipped his sniper rifle from his pack and, standing waist-deep in the soaking ditch, is searching for targets.
The Taliban are firing from different places, popping out in small groups, letting off accurate bursts and disappearing again. Just as a masked and robed fighter pops out with a primed RPG pointing our way, Tim catches him in his sights.
"Seen!"
The shot sends the fighter to the floor.
By now Two Section are suppressing as well. The Taliban cannot match our heavy weight of fire.
One Section withdraw in line with the rest of the platoon and we adopt an all-round defensive posture. The incoming stops.
"Watch and shoot! Watch and shoot! Watch the flanks!" goes the order to stop continuous firing and look for the enemy popping out of cover again.
I am dealing with sensory and information overload. Amid the noise and confusion of the contact, two radio channels buzz in my ear as rangers send information on the enemy and the operations room looks for a location of the enemy and details of any friendly casualties.
After that highly-charged pause, it emerges we have none.
The mortar controller is speaking to his barrels and laying them on to the target should we need them. Overhead, air support is coming on station.
Our interpreter tells us from an intercept that the Taliban have broken off the attack and taken a casualty. Then comes the news they are preparing to mortar us.
"Get into hard cover! Incoming!"
Things get tense. Amidst the ruins we sit and await a hail of shrapnel. Thankfully it never comes.
The Afghan National Army have rushed out of their base to our aid and are now in hot pursuit of the Taliban as they flee to their safe houses to drop off their weapons. As the lull lengthens I move a section back to the quad and get it away to safety.
The ops room wants us to search the firing points so I move forward with a section, covered by another. We move cautiously as the locals start to return to the fields.
"Boss, he's one," says an experienced ranger. "He's wearing the same dish-dash as the guys on the firing point."
I am staring into the face of an indignant looking 17-year-old. Is this our enemy?
We search him. Nothing. Smell his hands for cordite. No.
I'm not sure about him. Maybe I don't want to believe he could be enemy. I let him go, recording where he lives.
We trudge back to camp and, as the adrenalin wears off, realise how exhausted we are.
• Lieut Paddy Bury from Wicklow remains on duty in Helmand province, Afghanistan