An Cosantóir

23 "Because I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again." – John Denver, songwriter our nationality. He is Wilfred from Gambia, a friendly chap, very happy to talk to me. He asks me to step into his photo, I agree, of course. I do the same, I pass over my camera to his colleague to snap us. I think they are blown away by our equipment as he points to my headset and then to my rifle and gives a firm thumbs up. A quick snap and then Irish patrol flight UN421 to Ganta is called out over the tannoy system. We shake hands again, part ways, never to be seen again. This opening trip at the start of a new mission was far from an easy one and far from an idle one. Robust patrolling, camp duties, dealing with an early tragedy and fatality, dealing with extremely high temperatures and terrain we were unfamiliar with. A very different mission to past Irish missions in Lebanon, East Timor and Kosovo. Mechanised patrolling for days at a time. Calls home, physical fitness, a shower, a bed and the odd bottle of beer in the canteen which was open for alcohol for two hours 3 nights a week. These pleasures were not a thing when you were miles and miles in country on a long-range patrol and well away from the comforts that we made at our HQ at Camp Clara, so as you can imagine, the mission in that sense required adaptability and mental strength. So, the time has come and it's the night before we leave Camp Clara for Roberts International Airport to catch a flight out of this West African war zone and back to our normal lives, friends and families back in Ireland. A quick gathering in the canteen where it's opened for 90 minutes so that we can grab a beer and share a drink with our colleagues before we all go back to our home units in Ireland. After each of my four tours of duty, I always found this part of the mission particularly strange, in the sense that you'd bonded with these soldiers you may not have known prior to the trip, you've become familiar with every face, what their role was, how physically fit they were and what quality of soldier or character they were. A gathering of troops like this is always temporary, but you always keep the memories. Naturally there is a playlist on in the background and songs such as Homeward Bound, Tie a Yellow Ribbon and My Heart is in Ireland are part of that, but it's when John Denver's Leaving on a Jet Plane comes on that almost everyone in the canteen gets involved. This is like a ritual and the done thing for Irish soldiers overseas just before they rotate with the new soldiers en- route to relieve them. It's like an end-of-trip anthem. "So, kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you'll wait for me. Hold me like you'll never let me go. Because I'm leaving on a jet plane, don't know when I'll be back again." The volume is turned up a notch and everyone gets involved. There's a certain happiness that we can all relate to, plenty of smiling and hand shaking. What we've been waiting for since the day we got here. Our job is done here. It's 9am on a midweek morning. We mount up on UN coach buses and make our way to the airport to welcome the incoming troops from the 91st Infantry Battalion and to catch our connecting flight out of here. We will stop off at Gran Canaria, a quick refuel and then it's next stop, Dublin airport. As we gather in a hangar at Roberts International Airport, we see the lights of the incoming chartered plane in the distance, it is descending to land. Within seven or eight minutes, it hits the runway and the excitement for us mounts some more. As the soldiers of the 91st Battalion leave the aircraft and move in single file towards another hangar about 50 metres from where we are, you can't help but notice how pale-skinned they are, which gives you the harsh reality check that you too are pasty Irish white when you're not under the hot sun on a six month tour of duty in the Middle East or on the African continent, or on holiday in Cyprus or Tenerife. We wave towards them, they vaguely wave back, as they perhaps feel that we are rubbing their noses in it, not to mention that they're more than likely experiencing what I wrote about earlier when stepping off that aircraft. The searing heat, the stench and the unimaginable humidity, so they can be forgiven. We shortly mount the aircraft, take our seats, remove our heavy boots and relax as best we can. We're out of here! After about 11 or 12 hours of travelling, two flights and some waiting around in-between, our plane hits the tarmac at Dublin Airport and as it does, the cheer that goes up is a loud one, lots of clapping and a few 'yahoos'. I'd experienced this feeling previously from my earlier trip home from Lebanon with the 88th Infantry Battalion, but it was nice to see the excitement on the faces of those coming home from their first tour of duty. This mission was made up of a lot of young soldiers on their first tour of duty as around that time there was a lot of recruitment within the Defence Forces, but trips of this size in numbers were not a thing since we pulled out of Lebanon (Mark 1) in 2001, there was a small number of troops in areas such as Kosovo, Eritrea and East Timor, but not of battalion size. As we came through the arrivals gates there was a great reception from the families of soldiers who had gathered to welcome their sons, daughters, husbands, wives and partners home. It was a lovely feeling. All of my family were here so that was great. They'd noticed how much weight I'd lost, though there wasn't much on me to begin with, it was clear that we would all lose additional weight from this mission due to patrolling, general humidity and our own physical fitness regimes when at our HQ. It was coming into summer 2004. Within a year from now I would have completed my NCOs course and be promoted to Corporal. I would also be headed back to Liberia for a second time on a six-month tour of duty in May 2005. But that is another story for another day. Lar McKevitt's blog: https://soldiersindreams.wordpress.com/2020/05/23/out-of-ireland-into-africa/ MULLINGAR TO MONROVIA – A SOLDIER'S MEMOIR

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