Four of us had 203s, the American M16 Armalite rifle with a grenade launcher attached that fires a 40mm bomb that looks like a large, stubby bullet; the others had Minimis, a light machine gun. For our purposes, the Armalite is a superior weapon to the Army’s new SA80. It’s lighter and is very easy to clean and maintain. It’s a good, simple weapon that has been around in different variants since Vietnam days. The Regiment tried SASOs in jungle training when they came out, and found it not best suited to its requirements. With the M16 everything’s nice and clean; there are no little bits and pieces sticking out. The safety catch is very simple and can be operated with the thumb-with the SA80 you have to use your trigger finger, which is madness. If you’re in close country with the M16, you can flick the safety catch off easily with your thumb, and your finger is still on the trigger. What’s more, if the safety catch will go to Automatic on your M16, you know it’s made ready: this means it is cocked, with a round in the chamber. You see people patrolling with their thumbs checking the safety catch every few minutes; the last thing they want is a negligent discharge within earshot of the enemy.

The M16 has a quiet safety catch-another plus if you’re patrolling-and there are no parts to go rusty. If rifles were cars, instead of going for a Ford Sierra 4x4 -good, reliable, tested, and enjoyed by the people who drive them-in the SA80 the Army went for a Rolls-Royce. But at the stage when it was first brought into service, it was still a prototype Rolls-Royce, and there were plenty of teething problems. In my opinion the one and only drawback with a 203 is that you can’t put a bayonet on because of the grenade launcher underneath.

We didn’t have slings on the M16s. A sling means a rifle is going over your shoulder: on operations, why would you want to have a weapon over the shoulder rather than in your hands and ready to fire? When you patrol with a weapon you always move with both hands on it and the butt in your shoulder. What’s the point of having it if you can’t bring it to bear quickly?

I’m not interested in how or where a weapon is made, as long as it does the job it needs to do and I know how to use it. As long as it fires ammunition and you’ve got lots of it, that’s all you should be concerned about.

Weapons are only as good as their handlers, of course. There’s a lot of inbred rivalry between the blokes when it comes to live firing drills. All our weapon training is live firing, and it has to be that way because only then do you get a sense of realism and perspective. In a firefight, the awesome noise will impair your ability to act if you’re not well and truly used to it. An Armalite sounds surprisingly tinny when it fires, and there’s not much kick. You tend to hear other people’s weapons rather than your own. When the 40mm bomb fires, you just hear a pop; there’s no explosion or recoil.

We had four Minimis, which are 5.56 light-support machine guns They can take belted ammunition in disintegrating link in boxes of 200, or ordinary magazines. The weapon is so light that it can be used in the attack like a rifle as well as giving support fire, and it has a fearsome rate of fire. It has a bipod to guarantee good, accurate automatic fire if needed. The plastic prepacked boxes of ammo for the weapon are not its best design feature. As you’re patrolling, the box is across your body; it can bang against you and fall off, but you just have to guard against it. Another problem can be that the rounds are not completely packed in the boxes and you get a rhythmic, banging noise, which is bad news at night as noise travels more easily. Each man in the patrol also carried a disposable 66mm rocket. American-made, the 66 is designed for infantry antitank use. It’s just over two foot long and consists of two tubes inside each other. You pull the two apart and the inner tube contains the rocket, all ready to go. As you pull it apart, the sights pop up.

You just fire the weapon and throw it away. It’s good because it’s simple. The simpler something is, the more chance there is that it’ll work. The round has a shaped charge on the end, which is designed to punch through armor. The fuse arms itself after about 30 feet; even if you just graze the target, it blows up. The 66 doesn’t explode in a big ball of fire as in the movies. HE never does that unless there is a secondary explosion.

We carried white phos grenades as well as the ordinary L2 explosive grenade. Phosphorus burns fiercely and lays down a rather good smokescreen if you need time to get away.

Grenades no longer have the old pineapple shape that people tend to think of. White phos is cylindrical, with the letters WP written across it. The L2 is more egg shaped and consists of tightly wound wire around an explosive charge. We splay the pins even more than they already are so that it takes more pressure to extract them. We also put masking tape around the grenade to hold the handle down as an extra precaution in case there’s a drama with the pin. White phos is not much used in training because it’s so dangerous. If you get it on you, you have to pour water very slowly from your water bottle to stop it getting oxygen, then pick it off. If you’re not successful, it’s not a nice way to die.

We had at least 10 magazines each, 12 40mm bombs, L2 and phos grenades, and a 66. The four Minimi gunners had more than 600 rounds each, plus 6 loaded mags. For an 8-man patrol it was a fearsome amount of firepower.

Those of us with 203s checked there was a bomb loaded. Bob was checking that the belts of ammunition for his Minimi weren’t kinked-the secret of belt-fed ammunition is that it goes into the weapon smoothly. If it’s twisted, you’ll get a stoppage. I saw Vince checking the box of ammunition that clips on to the side of the weapon to make sure it was not going to fall off. His gang were going to provide all-round cover by moving straight out to points just beyond the wash of the aircraft. As they were running out, the rest of us would be throwing the kit off the tailgate as fast as we could.

Stan checked his white phos to make sure it was easy to get at. Everybody was mentally adjusting himself ready to go. Blokes jumped up and down to check that everything was comfy. You do simple things like undo your trousers, pull them up, ruck everything in, redo them, tighten your belt, make sure your belt kit is comfortable, make sure your pouches and buttons are done up. Then you check and recheck that you’ve got everything and haven’t left anything on the floor.

I could tell by the grind of the blades that the heli was maneuvering close to the ground. The tailgate started to lower. I peered out. You’re incredibly vulnerable during the landing. The enemy could be firing at the aircraft, but because of the engine noise you wouldn’t know until you were on the ground. The ramp came down more. The landscape was a black-and-white negative under the quarter moon. We were in a small wadi with a 13-foot rise either side. Clouds of dust flew up, and Vince and his gang moved onto the tailgate, weapons at the ready. There was a strong smell of fuel. The noise was deafening.

The aircraft was still a few feet off the ground when they jumped. If there was a contact, we wouldn’t know about it until we saw them jumping straight back on.

The pilot collapsed the Chinook the last couple of feet onto the ground. We hurled the kit, and Stan, Dinger, and Mark jumped after it. I stayed on board while the lo adie went across the floor with a cyalume stick in his hand in a last-minute sweep. The noise of the rotors increased, and I felt the heli lift its weight off the undercarriage. I waited. It’s always worth the extra ten seconds it takes to make sure, rather than discover when the heli has gone that you’ve only picked up half the equipment. The balance, as ever, is between speed and doing the job correctly.