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Our reporters get a hostile lesson in covering war
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And it was here that we learned how to look for land mines and how to de-mine an emergency path for ourselves using only a kitchen kebab skewer. In Afghanistan alone, for instance, it will take 15 years to clear just the 30 square kilometers of minefields that aid workers consider their main priority. To clear the rest is estimated to take 4,300 years.
Time and again, our burly band of commandos hammered home the point that our greatest defense against all these hazards was a tool that we reporters use all the time: observation. And our greatest enemy is carelessness.
"What you are looking for are silhouettes, shapes, textures, and colors not found in nature," said our instructor, Jan, marching us along a deeply rutted muddy trail through the woods.
Some of the danger signs on that trail were obvious. A camera perched in the crook of a tree, for instance.
"Should I pick this up?" said one of the observers, also named Jan, reaching for the camera. Some of us mumbled "no," but clearly we should have been more forceful.
BAM! We all hit the ground. In real life, we might have been hurled to the ground, either injured or dead. Jan showed us the booby-trap mechanism inside the camera. The camera had been attached by wire to a set of alligator clips. A small piece of plastic kept the clips apart, but when the camera was pulled, the clips snapped together, forming an electrical connection that ignited a bomb hidden behind the tree stump.
"If you ever lose equipment in the field and you find it several hours later, just leave it behind," advised our instructor. "It only takes two hours to set up a booby trap."
Other signs were more subtle. Twigs on the ground forming an arrow could signal compatriots of a trip-wire or land mine, without tipping off an intended target.
Coming up to a bend in the trail, we noticed a large tape deck perched in the crook of a tree. Off to our left we could see no particular signs of danger, no trip wires, no mortar shells rammed into the soil. Just a long straight path that stretched to the horizon.
It was then that our instructor Jan told us there was a sniper down that long road, and he already had one of us in his crosshairs. Never mind that we couldn't see the sniper he was wearing a camouflage suit with leaflike flaps that hid the silhouette of his body. The point was that he could see us.
"Sniper, would you wave your hand?" He did, but we still didn't see him. "Sniper, would you move a bit more?" Still no sign. "Sniper, come out of the bush." Suddenly the bush itself moved. This was our sniper.
"There are things that you won't see," said Jan with a sigh, "but still you can cut your risks by not walking down a long open road and making his job easier."
What a relief to be learning this in an English country wood, and not out on the job.
Wear natural fibers: They burn more slowly
Fumbling with the tangle of straps on the back of my gas mask with eyes closed to simulate the conditions of a liquid nerve-gas attack I yank the rubber respirator over my head, pray that there are no gaps in the seal, and exhale as forcefully as my strained, half-filled lungs will allow.
"You've got nine seconds to put this on," barks instructor Peter Scotland, one of Britain's top nuclear, biological, and chemical (NBC) weapons experts. "None of this gear is optional."
