Terrorism’s hidden legacy

A decade on from 9/11 I’ve been privileged to spend time with two men whose lives were changed as a result of that fateful day. Making a documentary about the resulting war on terror has taken me from the tranquil town of Arbroath to the frontline in Helmand.

Arbroath is home to 45 Commando, who are Scotland’s only Commando unit and fiercely proud of their North-east roots. In two tours of Afghanistan they’ve lost 13 men.

But there is also a hidden legacy of this nearly decade-long war. Scores of young men and a few women have returned from Helmand with profound injuries.

I was in Helmand in 2010 to film a documentary about the British field hospital in Camp Bastion. There medics were carrying out surgery in a state-of-the-art hospital in the middle of the desert. It was dubbed the busiest ER on the planet, and spending time there I could only marvel at the skills of the surgeons and saddened by the young men whose broken bodies they were patching up.

I wondered what sort of life these once intensely fit soldiers were returning to. We as a society solemnly salute the dead in Wootton Bassett, but are we prepared to look after scores of severely injured veterans in the long term?

That is how towards the end of last year I found myself introduced to two of the most impressive men I have ever met.

Although they were a continent away when the planes hit the Twin Towers on 11 September, Colour Sergeant Paul “Baz” Barrett and Corporal Jay Hare’s lives were changed as a result of that day. As serving soldiers with 45 Commando, both were to pay a huge price for their part in the Afghanistan war.

In late 2008 Jay Hare, 30, was on patrol in the Sangin valley when he stepped on an improvised explosive device (IED). It was the second time he’d been blown up but this time he knew it was more serious. He recalled: “It’s unmistakable, the pain hadn’t yet registered or anything like that, it was just ringing. It was as if the world had slowed down.”

Jay had lost his leg below the knee, numerous fingers and had devastating facial injuries including losing an eye and his nose.

Less than a month later Baz Barrett, 36, knelt on an IED. He lost a leg above the knee, most of his arm and fingers from his other hand; he suffered multiple internal injuries as well as damage to his eye and his hearing. Doctors described Baz’s injuries as the worst suffered by anyone who’d arrived there still breathing. His family were alerted and Baz was flown back to Britain to die.

Over the past nine months I’ve followed Baz and Jay, not just in their physical rehabilitation but as they tried to prepare for a life outside the military. Surprisingly the eventuality they most feared wasn’t the surgeon’s knife, but the return of their unit to Afghanistan.

It’s difficult for those of us on civvy street to understand the psyche of the soldier. After a brush with death a return to a warzone would be unimaginable, but Baz and Jay felt envy, even guilt, as their comrades headed back to Helmand.

Baz summed it up: “That’s where the majority of my life’s been, not out in Afghanistan, but wherever the unit go. It was a dark time to watch them complete their training and depart for the operation.”

With unique access to 45 Commando my producer and I followed them to Helmand. The average age of a marine is 23, but many are younger. As a mother of a teenage son it was difficult to be dispassionate as I watched them at work and at play knowing that every time they left the base to go on patrol they risked death or injury.

Multiple limb loss has been described as the “signature” injury of the Afghanistan war. To date almost 200 British servicemen have lost an arm or a leg, with more than half of that number suffering, as the MoD puts it, significant multiple limb loss. There are also financial fears. A prosthetic leg that enables the wearer to run or ski costs thousands of pounds, much more than the standard NHS issue. When the bulk of Afghanistan amputees are discharged from the military will the NHS be willing or able to pick up a costly bill for leading-edge prosthetics? That’s a situation still to be tested.

As the months passed Jay found a life after Helmand in the rolling hills of Royal Deeside as part of the charity Horseback UK. It uses a kind of equine therapy not just to teach amputees to ride, but it aims to equip them with outdoor skills to find jobs in the outside world.

In his cowboy hat and chaps Jay’s prosthetic leg is hidden, but his facial injuries are a constant reminder of what this handsome father of two has endured. He faced a dilemma over whether to undergo further surgery that would make his face look worse before it got better.

Baz also faced challenges. Weeks after he was allowed out of his wheelchair he attempted to confound the medics and complete a 10km walk to raise money for a fledgling memorial garden at 45’s Condor Base. It was an aspiration that was fraught with danger as he risked causing long-term damage.

During the time filming Baz and Jay I was aware of the honour it was to be allowed into their lives. Occasionally they got their own back as we tiptoed around their physical predicaments.I won’t forget the day I inadvertently complained to Jay that my hair-dryer had blown up that morning. Quick as a flash with a dry smile he replied: “Yeah, it’s terrible when things blow up on you, isn’t it.”

l BBC Scotland Investigates: 9/11 A Hidden Legacy is on BBC1 Scotland Tuesday 13 September at 10:35pm