The Eyes Are Always Watching

Twenty years have passed; however, memories of this day still feel raw. Feelings of guilt and doubt from conversations and words from other have eked into my subconscious. 

i walked past a piece of street art in midtown Manhattan. I was drawn to it as I walked the streets, haunted by the image. Here was a piece of art that sadly mirrored a day in my life and the tragic end to someone I knew.

These are my recollections.

Namatil – N’gapa, Cabo Delgado, Mozambique

November 7^th 2005.

The dry season’s relentless grip held firm over the Makonde highlands, baking the red soil and punishing us with unrelenting heat. Sweat streamed freely beneath my blast-proof mask, and my body armor clung to my chest like a second skin. The escarpment lay in the distance, the land chattering with the sound of insects, teasing me with the promise of a breeze that never came. The end of the workday felt like an eternity away as I trudged through the unforgiving terrain.

At night I study maps and try to picture this landscape as it was fifty years ago. My team and I scour the ground for signs. We look at contours, seeking the re-entrants through which the FRELIMO fighters would come, and imagine where the Portuguese conscripts would have lain their landmines. These are the remnants and physical mementoes of Operation Gordian Knot.  We are in the land of barrier mine belts, and there are shit loads of landmines.

For fifty five kilometres teams have been deployed up and down the line for the past few years. We are a slick operation. A Team leader, a deputy team leader, section commanders, deminers, drivers and a cook are deployed at remote camps. All in all, around 200 men.  They work hard, they are disciplined and know the risks. We are finding hundreds of landmines a day; we can sense that the end of the task is coming along. It is only a matter of months before the Northern Border Project is completed. After years of toil, approximately 50,000 landmines will have been destroyed and the land safe once again.

It is my job to make sure that these last few months go smoothly. We are confident and moral is high. I had spent the last week visiting my teams and chatting with the team leaders. Milton, Oscar, Rosario, and Reuben. Each one of them professionals. They know their job and they know the land. Their teams respect them, as do I. For two teams it is coming up to the end of their field deployment and they are due leave.

I sit with Reuben at his control point, we go through minefield data, chat about what his plans are for his upcoming leave. He tells me that this rotation will see him getting married back in Nampula. His smile and happiness emanate. Within forty eight hours he will be heading back to his soon to be bride and family.

 

November 9^th 2005.

Back in Mueda at our compound, I spend the morning going through store checks, working on service plans and excel spreadsheets. As the end of the working day draws close, I walk to be near Elias our radio operator. The team reports come in and the daily count of landmines, meters cleared come through and noted down. It is a good day, and another hundred or so landmines have been removed. The mood is relaxed.

1325hrs.

The radio is full of chatter, I hear voices in rushed tones, multiple calls on the Codan. There is something amiss. There is a pained look on Elias’s face, I am stood with several of our headquarter staff, a stunned feeling comes over us all. There has been an unplanned detonation.

The minefields are closed, the teams are back in camp. My brain is racing. Then I hear a British voice, it is Andrew.

“Reuben’s dead, Reuben’s dead”

“Copy” I reply. One dead. “How many others injured?”

“Three”,

“Copy, what are their status?” In my head I am calculating how long it will take for us to get the casualties to hospitals, I am working if I can get an aircraft to them. I am trying to ascertain if these three casualties will die. We have drilled for an event such as this.

Andrew repeats “Reuben is dead”.

I can’t do anything for him right now, my thoughts are with the wounded.

“Walking wounded, no life threatening injuries”.
“Copy, wait out”

As the radio crackled with urgency, the air grew heavy with dread. An unplanned detonation had claimed Reuben's life, leaving us reeling with shock and sorrow. Amidst the chaos, I scrambled to coordinate the response, my mind racing with the enormity of the task at hand.

I get my phone out and call my boss. It goes straight to answer phone, I keep trying, the same. He is on a field visit in Niassa, a remote area without signal. I leave a voice message.

I then call our Scotland HQ and am patched through to our Director. I explain the situation. One fatality, and several injured. CASEVAC procedures are running. I explain that the area is cordoned off, emotions are high. That I am about to drive back to the minefields to conduct the recovery of Reuben. I run through my plan. I take advice and remember The Directors words “Be very careful and good luck”.

The drive to Nangade and the minefields normally takes around three to four hours. That afternoon Artyom and I did it in about two. We are conscious of the remaining daylight. We are running through the situation in front of us. We smoke cigarettes, we drive in silence.

Arriving at the entrance to the demolition site, there are deminers everywhere, these are my colleagues. I speak with the Supervisors and Andrew. They have done well to prevent anyone from entering the area. I hear again what has happened and I look towards the demolition pit. We are about a hundred feet away, but that hundred feet now seems like a thousand. The shadows from the trees are growing longer. The sun is dwindling fast.

 

I look at Artyom and we go over our plan one last time.

 

I will go first; he will follow fifteen meters behind with the trauma kit and stretcher. We both know that the kit is not for Reuben’s benefit.

I will have to do this by hand. There are too many signals from debris to use a detector. I do a visual check. I look at every foot in front of me, to ensure that no landmines have been thrown out. Placing marker sticks to indicate a cleared path, I cover ground quickly towards the pit. Sweat is covering me again.

Ten meters out, I drop to my hands and knees. I can now see into the demolition pit. I push the sand away as I crawl along.

The Pit is several meters deep. One side is lined with anti-personal mines. Hundreds of them. I see Reuben. He is lying on his back.

I crawl towards him; I approach from the opposite side of the stacked landmines. I can see several that are lying near to Reuben. Artyom crawls behind me with the stretcher.

I take in the scene. A boot is missing, there are blast injuries to his leg. There is no face mask. Why is there no face mask? It’s then that I really take in his face. As I reached out to Reuben, a sense of profound loss washed over me.

The eyes. The eyes are not watching. They are gone.