Read Online Mercenary Mum: My Journey from Young Mother to Baghdad Bodyguard by Neryl Joyce - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Neryl Joyce
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My senses were alert. The trip would take a couple of hours. I had to relax – calm myself down and enjoy the experience. This was an adventure.
THIRTY MINUTES TILL LANDING. I sat watching the clock, wondering how dangerous it would be on the ground. Although there seemed to be little chance of members of the local military acting aggressively towards our detachment, the Cambodian government could not guarantee our safety. We were not permitted to take our rifles into the country, as that was deemed far too antagonistic for an evacuation. I had my army-issued ASP baton concealed under my uniform, but it’d be useless in a firefight. I had complete faith in my commanders – well, perhaps not complete faith. I was beginning to understand how big a role publicity plays in operations such as this. In the end, I just accepted that the threat of weapon fire was low.
Two minutes till landing. This was it. Things were about to happen. I had no idea what I was supposed to do once the aircraft landed, but hoped someone in charge would tell me. We touched down. I couldn’t see anything as I was stuck in my seatbelt and nowhere near a window. My heart was pounding in my ears. Adrenaline was racing through my body. The rear of the aircraft opened slowly. Whatever I had expected to see, this certainly wasn’t it.
Immediately, there was the flashing of cameras. There were reporters and photographers everywhere. There must have been fifty of them, from CNN, ABC – all sorts of agencies. They came scurrying up to the aircraft like mice, pointing microphones, asking questions and shoving cameras in my face.
Fortunately, I was no one of any importance. I knew nothing; I said nothing. I scanned the area after getting off the aircraft. Phnom Penh airport was a train wreck. It had come under heavy fire during the coup, and there were rubble and rubbish littering the severely damaged buildings. There was limited security on the tarmac, as evidenced by the media scrum that now surrounded the aircraft, and no one on the ground who was visibly in command or control. Locals stood around gawking at the hoopla. There was no one around to send them on their way.
I looked around to see what everyone else was doing: loadies were tending to their duties; the air defence guards were trying to clear the tarmac to create a safe environment for the aircraft; other personnel were gathering their equipment. I stood there like a stunned mullet. I had not been given any chain of command to follow. It wasn’t clear who, if anyone, I should report to, as I was the only army soldier on the deployment. I knew I had to follow the rank structure within the detachment, but there was no one around to give me specific orders.
It was extremely unsettling: it meant having to find my own place in this operation. I was used to having my orders given to me. In the MPs, I was a lance corporal – at the bottom of the food chain. In this situation, I was the only link in the food chain. It was scary, but also very exciting.
After helping to unload the essential stores from the aircraft, I left for our base – if you could call it that. In fact, it was just a room in the airport. The windows had been blown out and there were glass and detritus everywhere. I looked around the room and checked all the adjoining doors to see if they could open. None did. Good, only one point of entry to be concerned with. I saw a group of air defence guards huddled in a circle. I walked over to investigate and heard their commander issuing them a set of orders. I listened in as they were assigned duties around the area. When the orders had been given, I introduced myself to the platoon commander. Together we were able to sort out a list of duties that I could perform in conjunction with his team.
I would be assisting the evacuees to board the aircraft at departure time. I would deal with any distressed civilians and other security issues as they arose. I was happy with that, but there
THIRTY MINUTES TILL LANDING. I sat watching the clock, wondering how dangerous it would be on the ground. Although there seemed to be little chance of members of the local military acting aggressively towards our detachment, the Cambodian government could not guarantee our safety. We were not permitted to take our rifles into the country, as that was deemed far too antagonistic for an evacuation. I had my army-issued ASP baton concealed under my uniform, but it’d be useless in a firefight. I had complete faith in my commanders – well, perhaps not complete faith. I was beginning to understand how big a role publicity plays in operations such as this. In the end, I just accepted that the threat of weapon fire was low.
Two minutes till landing. This was it. Things were about to happen. I had no idea what I was supposed to do once the aircraft landed, but hoped someone in charge would tell me. We touched down. I couldn’t see anything as I was stuck in my seatbelt and nowhere near a window. My heart was pounding in my ears. Adrenaline was racing through my body. The rear of the aircraft opened slowly. Whatever I had expected to see, this certainly wasn’t it.
Immediately, there was the flashing of cameras. There were reporters and photographers everywhere. There must have been fifty of them, from CNN, ABC – all sorts of agencies. They came scurrying up to the aircraft like mice, pointing microphones, asking questions and shoving cameras in my face.
Fortunately, I was no one of any importance. I knew nothing; I said nothing. I scanned the area after getting off the aircraft. Phnom Penh airport was a train wreck. It had come under heavy fire during the coup, and there were rubble and rubbish littering the severely damaged buildings. There was limited security on the tarmac, as evidenced by the media scrum that now surrounded the aircraft, and no one on the ground who was visibly in command or control. Locals stood around gawking at the hoopla. There was no one around to send them on their way.
I looked around to see what everyone else was doing: loadies were tending to their duties; the air defence guards were trying to clear the tarmac to create a safe environment for the aircraft; other personnel were gathering their equipment. I stood there like a stunned mullet. I had not been given any chain of command to follow. It wasn’t clear who, if anyone, I should report to, as I was the only army soldier on the deployment. I knew I had to follow the rank structure within the detachment, but there was no one around to give me specific orders.
It was extremely unsettling: it meant having to find my own place in this operation. I was used to having my orders given to me. In the MPs, I was a lance corporal – at the bottom of the food chain. In this situation, I was the only link in the food chain. It was scary, but also very exciting.
After helping to unload the essential stores from the aircraft, I left for our base – if you could call it that. In fact, it was just a room in the airport. The windows had been blown out and there were glass and detritus everywhere. I looked around the room and checked all the adjoining doors to see if they could open. None did. Good, only one point of entry to be concerned with. I saw a group of air defence guards huddled in a circle. I walked over to investigate and heard their commander issuing them a set of orders. I listened in as they were assigned duties around the area. When the orders had been given, I introduced myself to the platoon commander. Together we were able to sort out a list of duties that I could perform in conjunction with his team.
I would be assisting the evacuees to board the aircraft at departure time. I would deal with any distressed civilians and other security issues as they arose. I was happy with that, but there
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