Charlie Company Op Haven 1991
by Mne P E Guinan

It was the quickest working week in the company's history: drawing kit, returning kit, packing kit, unpacking kit, we did it all. Eventually on the morning of 27 April we were ready and were given the order to move, said our final farewells and headed for Brize Norton via South Cerney. After the usual painfully long wait we boarded our aircraft and were on our way to Southern Turkey, landing after a five hour flight at Diyarbakir.

After a brief we boarded American Chinooks that took us to our final destination . . . Silopi, or 'Sloppy' as it became known. After staying here for a couple of days headed for the hills, in particular a small village called Begova. This was it. We were finally in Iraq!

It was a tactical move, and it went well. The only hiccup came when Kate Adie sped past in her jeep - four truck-loads of Bootnecks draped over the sides, tongues hanging out (a natural reaction - we hadn't seen a Western woman for 72 hours). We arrived at Begova and set up camp. The village would normally have a population of around 4,500 people, but initial patrol reports revealed only 100 at most. After a few days carrying out village patrols, bridge security, our own camp security and the dreaded TQ's working parties we were on the move again, this time into the heart of the mountains to Nazdur. Our objective was to establish and recce safe routes for the bulk of Kurdish refugees returning to their homes from the refugee camp at Yekmal on the Turkish border.  

C Coy's Bridge

This seemed the perfect location. One mega mountain range between us and the refugee camp and the world's allocation of Mosquitos what else could we want? We kept up the patrolling and waited for the influx of thousands of refugees and waited and waited.

Meanwhile 'back at the ranch', Colours Mudd and his clan were in top 'pinging' form. Working parties here, working parties there, working parties every . . . where. If it wasn't water working parties, it was food, petrol, kit, toys! You name it we hoofed it up the hill from the roadhead to our camp. During one of these working parties I turned to Colours and suggested he did what the Yanks did, ring 0898 and, after about six or seven 'circling' routines by the pilots, get it dropped in by helicopter. Easy!

The 1st Convoy of Refugees

After eight days in Nazdur, still we waited. Where had the refugees gone? Were we in the right place? Several hundred per day came down but the majority gratefully accepted truck rides the longer but easier way down through Turkey and over the border at Silopi. Two and a half weeks later, Begova has reclaimed its population. Villagers are welcoming the task of sorting out their old homes, cultivating their land and going about a peaceful life once more. We still provide security in the form of 'hospital watches', mobile patrols and the manning of the bridge. With working parties easing every day, we are managing to squeeze in a few hours bronzing hands, cuffs and faces but you never know what could happen next . . . 'Working parties!!'