Breakfast

Colour Sergeant Michael Saunders, who comes from Nunnery Wood, is three weeks into his six-month tour of Afghanistan and hopes his 'letters from the desert' will help people to understand what the Army is doing in the country, and what daily life is really like.

Michael's sister, Tracy Tyrls said: "Michael loves to write and it's a great way for him to keep us up to date with what he's doing in Afghanistan.

Colour Sergeant Michael Saunders

"I find it reassuring to get letters from him regularly; it's a bonus that it's proved so popular with the pub clientele.

"With 2 Mercian deployed in a really challenging role out there, there are lots of soldiers from Worcestershire in the thick of it.

"I think it's good for people to realise that although thousands of miles away, what's going on in Afghanistan affects the people of Worcester more than they might think."
CSgt Saunders is 35, married and has a three-year-old daughter.

He attended Nunnery Wood High School, his family home is in Exmouth, and when he's not on operations, he's based at Palace Barracks in Belfast.

Here are his blogs:

Blog 18

Another week has gone by, and in that week we have seen bitter fighting and losses that are not possible to articulate adequately with words.

As I travelled with a mind split between home and here, a soldier of the Mercian Regiment gave his life, and when I landed my colleagues were dealing with the sadness of this young man's loss.

Private Jason Williams (deceased)

Private Williams was fairly new to the Regiment, but I am told that he had settled in quickly, and his infectious humour was a light in dark times.

He died while on a joint operation with the Afghan National Army (ANA), when some of their number were killed by insurgents. 

For a time one of the fallen ANA soldiers body could not be found, and so a desperate search was conducted to secure and retain the man's remains, so that he may be buried with dignity and honour by his family.

While attempting to secure the fallen man, Private Williams was killed by a roadside bomb.

In the movies you will hear the soldiers say that "we will leave no man behind" - indeed this has become a motto for some US units - in practice this takes courage and commitment beyond that expected of most men. 

To move in to an area that you know may be littered with improvised explosive devices, knowing the danger, yet doing it anyway is raw courage, and for my mind there is no greater sacrifice than the living forfeiting their safety, and in this case their lives, to protect their dead or injured fellow soldiers.

Compassion is not a word that sits easily with fighting men - indeed as a collective we are capable of much violence and destruction, harshness and bitter enmity.

But we also have that quality of compassion and fair play that sets us apart from savage, mindless men, who wish only to set the world in an image of fear and hate.

By his actions Private Williams has shown to be true what I have long believed, that by one's actions shall we be judged, and not by great words or wishes. 

The peace here will not be decided by men who talk of better times, but by the physical rejection of tyranny and violence by a war weary people.

Though we have suffered much, others have suffered more, and my thoughts are with our soldiers of the other Regiments, who have been stuck by cruel and bitter fate this week. 

Gentle men of violence

In such times it is very difficult to look for a speck of comfort, but there are tales of bravery and selfless commitment so strong as to burn through the dark clouds of despair. 

For as long as the Regimental system endures, and soldiers recall what has been done here, we shall not be poor company for our forbears and such company it is.

From the first time that men formed ranks to become an ordered Army, war and conflict has put spaces in them - these spaces will be filled, but the memory of the man who has been lost will be carried with pride for as long as the unit stands.

Statues will crumble and fall, and some will look back on what has been done here as folly.

But for those of us who have been to this place we will remember those gentle men of violence who gave everything, and we will recall the struggle with pride for these were the times that soldiers were made.

In the quiet times in safety and peace the men of the Mercian Regiment will reflect with pride how the Regiment, its Companies, its Platoons and its men put made a motto live as they "Stood Firm and Struck hard".

Until next week be safe and should you have a moment, spare a thought for the soldiers of your Regiment who fight hard to serve you well.

Blog 17

This will be my last blog for a few weeks, as I will soon be going home for some rest.

I hope to see some of you in person as I will make a visit to the Marwood on my return.

This week the theme, if such a thing exists with my ramblings, is departures.

We have all seen the news and know of the great losses sustained in the fierce fighting here.

What is less publicised is the soldiers who return home injured, or at there end of tour, both of which deserve attention and recognition for different reasons.

Injuries

For those injured soldiers the road to recovery may be a long and painful process, and we must guard against not including them as the friends and comrades that they are.

This is difficult as the pace of operation's here continues, and on return the drive to restart lives put on hold is intense.

For some seeing again the injured, and the results of such injuries, can be a traumatic process, that will force them to relive moments that will have been buried deep.

Individuals will deal with this in different ways, and I, for one, will not judge any man who finds meeting casualties again too much.

After our previous tour I made a few visits to the Forces rehabilitation centre at Hedley Court.

I was struck by a number of things, but mostly the quantity of the casualties, and their absolute refusal to be defeated by the injuries inflicted upon them.

It sounds like a cliché to say that I was humbled by these soldiers, but I was and I still am.

Crowds in Wootton Bassett

If the pictures on the news of the crowds at Wootton Basset teach us one thing, it is that soldiers will always be soldiers, regardless of when their service ends, and indeed for what reason. 

I sat here and watched with my colleagues the pictures, as the hearses drove through the town.

For us who serve here this was an emotional time, as we had seen these men on to the plane that would take them home, and then they were there, in the spotlight of the world media, for all to see and acknowledge.

I must admit that a small part of me did not want to see this, as if by avoiding it the truth would be somewhat diminished, and some of the shock dispersed.

Alongside the well wishers and the general public were soldiers old and new, some of whom will have tasted the bitterness of loss and the sadness of seeing good friends injured in the line of duty.

We as a Battalion have sent many friends home, some of whom will take many months to recover - if they can at all. 

I speak of people like Major Stuart Hill, one of the Company Commanders who was injured badly in the incident that took the life of Private Robbie Laws. 

He is now in a fight of a different kind, as he must now try to climb the mountain of recovery which is set before him. 

He will do this in the same way that he conducted himself here - with pride, dignity and the tenacity that befits an Infantry soldier.

Strong bonds

We have also sent friends home who have completed their time with us, and in doing so have built strong bonds that have been tested to the limit, in a place that does not support petty unit differences or minor grudges.

Soldiers in Afghanistan PA

In this case I speak of people like Colour Sergeant Al Dunn, who has got to be the angriest man I have had the pleasure of meeting. 

Al came to us with the Company from the 3rd Battalion the Royal Scottish Regiment, and was given to us to be a Company Quartermaster Sergeant.

This task involves ensuring that men and material get to the right place at the right time, and is as difficult a task as it is critical.

Al, while being angry, secretly possessed a heart of gold that was well hidden, but not unseen, beneath a gruff archetypal Scottish exterior. 

Indeed I recall vividly him enjoying himself greatly with us all, as he sat and enjoyed the feast we had on St George's day, surrounded by Englishmen, as if he was born to be there!

To Al and others who will be gone by the time I return from leave, I wish only the best of luck, and if there is any justice we will meet again near a bar, so I can secure the pint that he owes me.

In all of this I am reminded that departures can be the saddest of times, but on reflection they can be the foundation on which great memories are made.

We are given over in this life to make many partings, some of which will inspire us, some of which will rend our hearts in two.

Experience of such comings and goings are the fabric by which we make the backgrounds for our life, they bring meaning and substance to the ebb and flow of all that we are, and as such we must embrace the opportunity to keep moving forward, while fixing an eye on those of whom we have left behind.

Soon I will be amongst my family and friends, and it will be strange for some time to not wake up and go through the routine of my day here.

For a time I will miss my friends that continue on in my absence, but I will rejoin them soon enough.

For the time being readers be careful, be safe, and remember to live in the now. 

I will leave you with a short poem I wrote after watching the repatriations of so many of our number, that to recall it brings me sadness.

Crowds in Wootton Bassett

REPECT AND HONOUR

The villagers of Wootton Bassett stood,
As the hearses all went by.
Above the sky had opened,
As if the clouds themselves did cry.
Old and young stood silent,
As they thought about the cost,
While families of fallen men grieved from sudden loss.
Meanwhile several hours ahead and a thousand miles away,
The fallen soldier's comrades had seen out another day.
Another day of fighting in this distant brutal land,
Another day of being the line drawn in the sand.
Soon the fallen soldiers name will be chiseled into a wall,
Please remember not the statue,
Remember,
All gave some, some gave all.

For previous parts of the blog, click on NEXT

• Next