One Mum, from 179 waiting for answers from the Chilcot Report/Iraq Inquiry.
By Melinda Ingram
Finally! Finally, after seven
years of waiting, the Iraq Inquiry is going to be published tomorrow, Wednesday
the 6th of July! Its purpose was to look into why Britain went to
war, so maybe now we’ll get some answers.
I am the mother of one of the
179 service people who died during the conflict which lasted from 2003 to 2009,
and I will be sitting in the balcony on Wednesday, wearing a t-shirt printed
with a picture of my son’s face, as Chilcot releases his report. Many of the
families who lost their loved ones will also be there, bearing witness and
hoping for the truth.
My son, Senior Aircraftsman (SAC) Christopher
Dunsmore, died in a rocket attack on Basra Airport on the 19th July
2007. Two fellow servicemen also died in this incident, which impacted on so many
people – family, friends, colleagues in the RAF Regiment and in Chris’s full
time civilian job with Metacoat – as every event of this type is bound to do.
In order to come to terms with
my grief I started writing. I now have a Masters in English and Creative
Writing, and belong to Ruler’s Wit, a post-graduate writing group. Our third anthology, SummerTales, is available from Amazon, in paperback and
Kindle formats.
Here is an extract from one of
my stories Little Cuts of Film, a ‘factional’ account of what happened to
Chris through a friend’s eyes. It draws on the real accounts of six people
Chris knew, his letters and his diary.
Little
Cuts of Film
The watery sun makes streaks of orange and pink in the slatey blue sky
as it begins to dip below the uncluttered horizon. Against the brightness of
the sunset, and the unremitting greys of the runway and the squat airport
buildings, two shadowy shapes kneel to guide the closing of the twin flaps at
the rear of the C130 Hurricane. The wailing sound of the pipers’ bagpipes dies
away as the four coffins we’d just carried in are swallowed into the belly of
the plane.
A tear escapes from my left eye as the buglers play the last post, one
either side of the huge door. At least one lad in my line had lifted his cuff
to his face discreetly during the service, but I’m determined to stand
firm. The whole squadron is watching; A Flight, B Flight, C Flight,
Support Weapons and the Boss, with the Engineers and Admin people. Something
like a hundred and fifty of us. Well, not quite that many now. Our fellow
Oggies are on their final journey home, away from this relentless heat, the
dust, the lines of the camp, the flat of the land and the fatigue. We’d never
been so tired. So gutted. So proud.
"Parade dismiss!" We turn forty-five degrees together in the
lines where we had been standing to attention, and watch as the plane takes off
into the sun, waggling its wings in a final goodbye.
"Lads, lads, we did our best." I tell them silently.
We’d spent hours every one of the last three sweltering July days
practicing. The drills involved in lifting the coffins, walking with them, turning,
and setting them on trestles after our normal patrols. Everything had to be
perfectly timed so that all four coffins moved together. Somehow it was, even
though the sight of the Union Jacks had closed my throat.
I shut my eyes for a moment before walking away. I can see the chaplain,
dressed in his sandy-coloured battle dress like we all were, his purple mantle
draped over his shoulders. His last words run through my mind. I’m gonna
remember them forever. The bit about forgiving their sins was crap. They didn’t
have any to forgive and who by, anyway? I don’t hold with all the God stuff
normally, but we need the ritual of giving respect. We need to feel we’ve done
what we can for our brothers-in-arms. That is true.
I liked the bit he said about acknowledging their good deeds, and hoping
that the beauty of their lives, rather than the manner of their deaths would be
remembered and celebrated. They were all top blokes. The thing is I won’t ever
be able to forget the manner of their deaths, Chris’s death, not ever. But I
will celebrate his life. For sure. I’m deffo gonna do that…
© Melinda
Ingram M.A.
Ruler's
Wit Publications
You can read the full version of Little Cuts of Film in Summer Tales
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