Once again the all too familiar tension is building and knotting in my stomach, I have become all to accustomed to these varied emotions in the past. I look to my right and see the lead section stacked up in the ditch, the look of fear and apprhension on their face is all to familiar and unhealthy for men of this age. I then hear "CC1, 30 secs to H hour" on the radio net, I nod to the lead section commander and then look down to my watch and at exactly 0530 the Jackals open up with 50cal and GMG onto the village below, for a moment I contemplate that it auctually looks pretty, the tracer bouncing off the walls and shooting into the dawn sky. But then reality hits me, the incredible noise, the shouting, now its my time... Back in the UK, its not the memorys of war, blood or gunfire that haunts me but the enormous amount of paperwork I face each Tuesday morning, when my Private Soldiers are either bailed or relased from police custody. This along with many other mundande paperwork taskings is what I face in Barracks which when you compare with it the responsibilty of commanding 30 men or 3 sections on excerise or operations it dosn't quite add up, and it is all too easy to see why some fall short on return from operations.