AS ONE of the British Army's top bomb disposal experts, Gary O'Donnell had the most dangerous job of all in Afghanistan.
Almost every day, the Scot put his life on the line to save others serving in the country's deadly Helmand province.
The father of four, who as a child loved to fix things given to him by his parents, would laugh off the peril of routinely comin
g within millimetres of death to defuse Taleban bombs and clear a path for his comrades in the battlefield.
But yesterday came the tragic news that his family and fellow soldiers must have feared would one day arrive.
The Warrant Officer Class 2, of the Royal Logistic Corps, from Edinburgh, was blown up after being called to neutralise an improvised explosive device near Musa Qala.
The tragedy was tinged with even heavier sadness after it emerged WO2 O'Donnell, 40, died just nine weeks after the birth of his youngest son, Ben.
As his fellow soldiers paid moving tributes to a man they described as a "steadfast friend and a charismatic mentor", his widow, Toni, said he had died while "living the dream".
He was killed leading a small squad sent in to defuse the bomb found by a Royal Engineers' search team clearing a route for 5 Scots battlegroup. It is understood he was approaching the bomb when it went off, killing him instantly.
Last night, his commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Dave Wilson, paid tribute to an "amazing" man who was "hugely talented and unbelievably brave".
"He was at the very top of his extremely dangerous and difficult trade. It was a trade at which he excelled. It was his passion and he took immense pride in making places safer for other people. The danger to his own life rarely seemed to affect him."
Lt-Col Wilson said men of WO2 O'Donnell's calibre were "extremely rare" and his death would be a great loss to the bomb disposal community and the army.
WO2 O'Donnell was awarded the George Medal for the bravery he displayed while serving in Iraq in 2006. He was also hailed a hero for his life-saving work in Afghanistan, including one operation when he defused eight deadly booby traps in a single day.
ONLY three months ago, his heroism was highlighted in a Scotsman story in which he told how he had to stick his fingers in a home-made clothes peg acting as a bomb's trigger, to save his own life as he battled to defuse it.
In a short statement issued by the MoD, his widow, Toni, said: "Gary was living the dream and we are all very proud of who he was, and he will be missed greatly."
The soldier leaves four children – newborn Ben, Aiden, eight, and two children from a previous marriage: Dylan, 16, and Kayleigh, 14. He was able to meet Ben a few weeks ago while back in the UK on a break from combat.
WO2 O'Donnell's death took the number of British service personnel killed in Afghanistan since operations began in October 2001 to 118.
Known as Gaz, the soldier joined the army in 1992 and had completed nearly 17 years of military service.
He passed his course on defusing improvised explosive devices as a "high-threat operator" first time – something only 15-20 per cent of candidates do. His skills were put to use during tours in Sierra Leone, Northern Ireland, Iraq and Afghanistan as both an explosives disposal technician and a weapons intelligence specialist.
Defence Secretary Des Browne said he was "deeply saddened" by news of WO2 O'Donnell's death on Wednesday. "For more than 16 years, he worked as an ammunition technical officer, selflessly putting his own life at risk to save the lives of others.
"I have no doubt that in his extraordinary career he was personally responsible for saving thousands of the family, friends and comrades of others from the anguish that is currently being felt by his own.
"My thoughts are with them at this extremely difficult time."
The close-knit army bomb-clearance community was said to be "extremely hurt and deeply affected" by his death.
Major Wayne Davidson, commanding officer of the joint force explosive ordnance disposal group, said: "His sacrifice will make our trade and regiment stronger.
"WO2 O'Donnell has died amongst his work colleagues that have shared sweat, blood, toil and tears with and for him. We will ensure that his sacrifice is not in vain."
Captain Mike Webb, operations officer with the ordnance disposal group, called him a "steadfast friend".
He said: "As a colleague, ammunition technical officer and soldier, he was meticulous in his example, always encouraging his subordinates, peers and superiors alike to ever greater efforts.
"I will deeply miss his sharp wit and ready conversation. He will be fondly remembered by all who knew him."
Warrant Officer 1 "Lav" Laverack, senior ammunition technician, said his comrade died doing the job he loved. "I often hear that quoted but I genuinely believe that it's true for Gaz. In the years that I have known him, he was always smiling and willing to help.
"He was highly regarded by all who had the honour to meet him, and he'll be remembered for his insightful leadership and unfailing help to those less fortunate than himself."
Warrant Officer 2 "Moxy" James, squadron sergeant major with the ordnance disposal group, added: "The people he worked with loved Gaz because of the way he worked. He died doing the job he loved surrounded by people who loved, admired and respected him."
MEMBERS of the search team and bomb disposal squad who were with WO2 O'Donnell at the time of his death praised his professionalism and humour in a group statement.
"His strength of character was proven on countless occasions and his heroics have saved many lives. His charisma, sense of humour and zest for life will be missed by all that knew him, and he will live on in our memories."
The soldier was brought up in Edinburgh's Morningside district and attended St Peter's Primary School and St Thomas of Aquin's High School. His thirst for a career in the army began when he joined the cadets.
From the start, he enjoyed the excitement and the challenge of a job in the army, and appeared to be predisposed towards the technical role of bomb disposal. "As a youngster, he had a really good eye for fixing things. If his parents gave him something to fix, he would do it," an MoD spokeswoman said last night. Beyond his family and his work, his passions were music and singing.
The spokeswoman said he had been due home in October after what was meant to be a five-month tour.
She explained the importance of WO2 O'Donnell's work in Afghanistan, where insurgents have been increasingly reliant on roadside bombs to attack and disrupt allied efforts "to bring peace and democracy to the country".
"Their support is crucial, given the growing threat from the increasingly terrorist-like tactics of the Taleban.
"They are not only helping to identify and clear improvised explosive devices on the battlefield, but also training troops at Camp Bastion so they can identify and deal with the threat."
WO2 O'Donnell's skills had also been relied upon in a recent operation to transport a giant hydroelectric turbine through Helmand, so engineers could complete a vital reconstruction project.
The words of a man who lightly put his life at risk for othersGary O'Donnell spoke to The Scotsman three months ago. In his own words:
Dealing with a bomb trigger fashioned from a clothes peg: "It happened almost straight away. I saw it slipping and jammed my fingers in. If I hadn't done that, if it had shut, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"You have to have a lot of respect for their bombs. If you just touch two wires together, one could go bang."
First reaction to the clothespeg bomb: "You f****** bastards."
"Two kilograms of explosives doesn't sound like a lot, but we are very aware of what it can to do a person."
On Taleban bombs: "They may have similar components, but you never know how they'll be put together."
On the bomb-makers: "We are the bane of their lives. We get rid of almost everything they put out."
Enemies in deadly game of cat and mouseTHOUGH the threat of Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) has come to the fore with the Afghanistan and Iraq wars – 40 per cent of coalition deaths in Iraq have been caused by IEDs – the history of bomb disposal goes back to the beginning of the 20th Century.
During the First World War, the practice was formalised as the mass production of munitions meant that there was a high proportion of 'duds' fired by both sides, prompting the development of a dedicated Ordnance Examiners by the Army.
Modern bomb disposal, however, finds its roots in the Second World War and the unexploded bombs dropped during the Blitz.
Our classic image of a bomb disposal officer stems from the IRA's terror campaign, which saw devices ranging from simple petrol bombs to sophisticated "barrack buster" mortars and remote controlled devices being used against soldiers.
The British Army latterly came to rely on remote-controlled robots to defuse most devices, but bomb disposal officers were still forced on occassion to go in by hand wear heavy all-over body armour to protect them from any blast.
In Afghanistan, however, logistics and environmental factors have forced the Army to rely on hand-defusing bombs. The weight of robots and demands of space in cargo space means use of them is limited – though the US army, with its greater transport capacity makes greater reliance on them. Furthermore, the use of heavy body armour, while affording some protection, leaves its wearer vulnerable to heat exhaustion and to Taleban attacks, slowing their responses.
The British Army, considered to be at the forefront of bomb disposal technology, has developed electronic devices capable of detecting and neutralising radio-controlled roadside bombs remotely.
However, the deployment of this technology has caused controversy. When Scots Fusilier Gordon Gentle was killed by an IED in 2004, it was claimed by his mother Rose Gentle that his vehicle had been on patrol without the technology, which became available the next day.
But such technology can be limited in its effectiveness. As the Army learns how to disarm the various different devices, insurgents and terrorists develop more complex ways to fabricate bombs, or even double back to approaches previously thought abandoned.
Craig BrownThe man I knew, joking in the face of death GARY O'Donnell was a consummate professional at the top of his game. When I met the hero bomb disposal expert in Helmand, in June, he couldn't stop cracking jokes as he told how he'd defused 22 bombs in the first five weeks of his tour, including eight in a single day.
As we chatted in the Bomb Squad's headquarters, in Camp Bastion, the dad-of-four bantered with his fellow soldiers about who had defused the most devices.
Between them, they'd dealt with 80 bombs in less than 40 days – more than the last two rotations of soldiers had seen in 12 months.
It was a record. Gary was leading the field by a country mile and he wouldn't let the others forget it.
But the humour only highlighted his professionalism.
Every bomb they dealt with was a near-death experience, and I was struck by the ruthless courage of a man who risked his life day after day to try and make Helmand a safer place for the rest of Britain's 8,000 troops. There is no doubt that he had saved countless British lives.
Gary, who won the George Medal for similar work in Iraq, was one of only two soldiers trained to deal with the Taleban's increasingly complex improvised explosive devices. He once had to stick his fingers in a home-made clothes peg, wired to a bomb, to save his own life as he battled to defuse it.
They were on ten minutes' notice to go anywhere in Helmand, 24 hours a day. They were so busy that, when I met him, they had only spent three days in Camp Bastion at a time, in between frantic calls to the front line.
Laughter, Gary said, was one of their ways of coping with the pressure, and they had both in spades.
"We can have a laugh and a joke here," he said. "But when you are there, you are completely focused."
Like the professional he was, he had developed a grudging respect for the Taleban bomb-makers, and their bombs.
"As much as they might have similar components, you never know how they are going to be put together," he told me. "You have got to have a lot of respect, not only for the enemy, but also for their bombs.
"If you just touch two wires together, the thing could go bang."
He accepted the risk, because he knew he was saving lives.
"We are the bane of their lives," said Gary about the Taleban bomb teams, "because we manage to get rid of almost everything they put out."
Scots captain was blown on to 20ft-high roof by explosionJerome StarkeyA SCOTTISH solider was blown off the ground on to a roof about 20ft above him by a bomb in Afghanistan, an inquest heard yesterday.
Captain John McDermid, 43, a father of three from Glasgow, was leading a patrol through Sangin in Helmand Province, when a hidden improvised explosive device was detonated beneath him, killing him instantly.
Lance-Corporal Ben Caglar, who was accompanying Capt McDermid, said: "I saw the blast come up from the ground and saw a V-shape of shrapnel and dust come up about 20 metres high."
In tears, he added: "He was lifted off the ground. I did not see where he landed. The blast was exactly underneath Capt McDermid."
Capt McDermid's body was later found on a nearby roof, thought to be 15ft-20ft high, Wiltshire coroner David Masters told the inquest at Trowbridge town hall.
A "command" wire, which had been concealed in the road, was later found leading to the centre of the blast, caused by about 6.5kg of explosives.
The device was triggered via a motorcycle battery by an insurgent who was positioned on a rooftop overlooking the road, the court heard.
The purpose of the patrol had been to "dominate and reassure" inhabitants of the local area. Six members of the Afghan National Army, whom Capt McDermid had been mentoring, were on the patrol and also witnessed the explosion.
The coroner ruled that the cause of death was blast wounds from the explosion.
Moments before the attack, on 14 November last year, Capt McDermid had ordered his men to split into two groups after members of the patrol realised they were being "dicked" – watched – by the enemy.
Capt McDermid, of the Royal Highland Fusiliers, 2nd Battalion the Royal Regiment of Scotland, served for 21 years as a soldier after joining the army in 1983.
He made officer rank three years before his death.
He was serving with the 2nd Battalion the Yorkshire Regiment when he died.
As well as three children, he is survived by his wife, Gill.
An officer for the Royal Military Police's Special Investigations Branch said yesterday that the perpetrator had not been caught but that the case file remained open.
ANGUS HOWARTH The full article contains 2595 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
