Curtis McGrath - Blood, Sweat and Steel

I dedicate this book to the men and women who have served

their nations and paid the ultimate sacrifice. As well as

those who came back with wounds to the body and mind.

Your sacrifice is never forgotten.

23 August 2012

The day began like any other in Afghanistan, with a grey dawn sky fast turning flawless blue, lit by a blazing sun. We were in the district of Khaz Uruzgan. Desert-brown mountains loomed in the distance.

I pulled on my boots, a week old and still not broken in, and laced them up. Army-issue boots werent exactly made for comfort, and I was sure to have a few extra blisters by the end of the day. After quick breakfast of cereal, orange juice and sunshine, I grabbed a couple of crackers with cheese and Vegemite for the road. It would be another long forty-degree summer day.

We were here to reclaim and re-establish a checkpoint that had been taken by insurgents. The enemy was nowhere to be seen. Wed already cleared the area of landmines or improvised explosive devices (IEDs), as we called them, and fortified the small buildings that would be used to both attack and defend. Now, with the Afghan soldiers in place and ready to defend the area themselves, we were almost done. There was just one nearby road to clear, currently blocked by a large boulder the size of a small car. I was already thinking about the next day, the last day, when wed be going back to Firebase Anaconda and putting our feet up, a hard operation done.

Kiwi! My good mate Livo snapped me out of my daydream. Livo was the lance corporal who led our brick, or crew. Weve been given the green light to blow up the boulder. Can you go ahead and check it out? Well meet you over there soon.

No worries, I said. I grabbed my gear.

With the sun behind my back, I walked down the hill over the ridge and towards the rock. It was about sixty metres away from the checkpoint. but didnt seem as big as it had yesterday. I yawned. All the hard work wed been doing was catching up with me and I felt like taking a nap, even though it was ten oclock in the morning. Everything was that little bit harder at 3000 metres above sea level.

If I didnt move, Id fall asleep, so I grabbed a handful of rocks.

Thud!

The first one went crashing into the sand, not nearly as far as I would have liked.

Thud!

The next one went further, but still not far enough.

Rock throwing is a sport in the army, something we always do. Whenever theres a lull, rocks will be found and rocks will be thrown.

What are you doing? From nowhere, Pitch appeared. Tall and easygoing, at nineteen Pitch was the youngest in our brick. This isnt the boulder!

I was about to throw another rock. What are you talking about? I uncocked my arm. Yes it is!

Na, mate, he said. This is the service road. Youre supposed to be at the rock on the main road. He grabbed a rock of his own and threw it.

I turned and started off without him. I wasnt searching as I walked, the trail I was on already cleared, with fresh footprints everywhere, heavily used. I was soon approaching the wall of Hesco baskets, large mesh containers filled with dirt used as a temporary blast wall.

Suddenly I was on the ground.

How?

I had no idea why. I didnt hear a bang. I didnt see a flash. But here I was on my back, looking into a shitstorm.

Everything was dark, a cloud of sand and dirt blocking the sun. I looked around. Tried to find a hint. A clue. But I could only see dirt.

Kiwi! someone screamed. Fuck! Where are you? Are you all right?

It was Pitch. I couldnt see him. Shit. My ears were ringing so bad I could barely hear him. I dug my elbows in the dirt and raised my torso to get a better view. Thats when I saw there was blood gushing out of me. Then the pain hit me like a freight train...

I DON T REMEMBER THE first house I ever lived in. It was in a little town called Alexandra in Central Otago on the South Island of New Zealand. All anyone can tell me is I had a Tonka truck that Id push through the vegie patch, leaving a trail of destruction. Seems like I was already making my mark.

When I was two, my dad sold the fencing company he owned and he, Mum and I moved to Wanaka, a small resort town with a population of around 9000. It was on Lake Wanaka in the centre of the South Island and was surrounded by glaciers, forests and lakes.

Paul, my dad, became a tour bus driver, catering for all comers but mostly Japanese tourists. Hed be on the road, driving them across to Christchurch, down to Milford and all the way to Picton in the north of the island.

We lived in a house perched on the top of a hill above a tourist attraction called Puzzling World, a collection of mazes and optical illusions thats now famous for being the weirdest attraction in the world. Our house had a bright red roof that was visible from the road and was surrounded by rolling green grass topped with sheep.

Born in 1988, I was a typical kid of that time. I preferred peanut butter sandwiches to just about anything else and my favourite shows were Looney Tunes, Rugrats and Transformers. But while cartoons were okay, I preferred to be outdoors riding my first set of wheels a bright blue trike. It wasnt long before I graduated to a real bike, a BMX. Black and orange, it had pads and stickers in all the right places. It looked even tougher when I ripped the training wheels off.

During the holidays, wed go camping, mostly to Glendhu Bay on the other side of Lake Wanaka, where Dad would race his boat.

Dad was tall, fit and adventurous. Maybe a little too adventurous. I vividly remember going to a rodeo at Wanaka and watching my dad ride a wild horse. Yep. A bucking bronco. My dad was no cowboy, but hed grown up on a farm and apparently that qualified him to jump into an equine ejector seat. Im not sure how he fared. I just know he made it home in one piece at least before he had to deal with Mum!

My mum, Kim, is the emotional rock in our family. Shes strong, calm and compassionate, but also straight-up and decisive. You always know where you stand with Mum, because shell tell you!

Once, as a little kid, I was drinking milk from a glass cup. I bit into the glass, shattering it, and a shard shot straight into my eyeball.

I cant see! I screamed. I was in agony.

Mum gave me a quick up and down then bundled me into the Camry and floored her way to the after-hours medical centre through pouring rain.

We cant treat this, I overheard one of the doctors say when we got there. Its bad. He needs to see an eye surgeon. Hes in danger of losing his eye.

The closest eye surgeon was in Dunedin, a three-and-a-half-hour drive away. So we got back into the Holden and Mum put her foot down. We were about forty-five minutes into the drive when I interrupted Mum.

I need to pee, I shouted.

She asked me if I could wait.

No, I said. I need to go now. Right now. Im going to wet myself.

Mum slammed on the brakes and turned towards the shoulder. Rain was pelting on the windscreen.

Bugger, she said as the brakes locked up. The car began to slide. Shed hit a muddy bank.