Callsign Whiskey

Helmand, Afghanistan, a Contact Report crackles through on the radio to a backdrop of gunfire. Casualties. A Taliban suicide bomber ripping through an Allied Patrol Base. The wounded are listed to the Operations Cell in Lashkar Gah, business as usual until Callsign Whiskey is relayed. Twice. Female casualties raises heads, at a ratio of 15:1, women are a minority, not just in Lash but the entire Armed Forces. Two female injured, life threatening at that, is a bitter blow. Following three commissioned Officers entering the grueling world of ammo, weapons and field-craft, Army Officer training makes no compromises male or female. All thrashed at Sandhurst, the famous Royal Military Academy that trains monarchs and civilians alike. Training Exercises will see feet bleed, hallucinations from sleep deprivation and carving out camaraderie. Finally the successful move onto the Regiments that will hone skills and Operational Theatres that could kill them...

Helmand, Afghanistan, a Contact Report crackles through on the radio to a backdrop of gunfire. Casualties. A Taliban suicide bomber ripping through an Allied Patrol Base. The wounded are listed to the Operations Cell in Lashkar Gah, business as usual until Callsign Whiskey is relayed. Twice. Female casualties raises heads, at a ratio of 15:1, women are a minority, not just in Lash but the entire Armed Forces. Two female injured, life threatening at that, is a bitter blow. Following three commissioned Officers entering the grueling world of ammo, weapons and field-craft, Army Officer training makes no compromises male or female. All thrashed at Sandhurst, the famous Royal Military Academy that trains monarchs and civilians alike. Training Exercises will see feet bleed, hallucinations from sleep deprivation and carving out camaraderie. Finally the successful move onto the Regiments that will hone skills and Operational Theatres that could kill them...