Jay Tailor served in Basra from March to July 2008, and has been deployed around the world in various administrative positions. He retired from the RAF as Warrant Officer in May 2024 after 36-and-a-half years in service. He has been an Association RAFALO of the year and is a member of Woodbridge RMG.
Jay Tailor served in Basra from March to July 2008.
I was in Basra during 2008, working in the admin office. Often, I would work the night shift to document arrivals and departures from the airfield. Flights had to be made under cover of darkness, as aircraft made for easy targets during the day.
Darkness was also when most attacks on the base came. Insurgents would set up rockets during the day, point them at the airfield then set the timer and disappear.
I knew the dangers before arriving in Basra as I’d spoken to my predecessor in the admin office, and on the day I arrived an RAF sergeant had been killed by incoming fire. We were all briefed on what to do when hearing the siren and got used to having our helmet and body armour within reach.
One particular night I was on shift with Dave, a British Army lance corporal. We were processing departures when the alarm sounded. We were in a portacabin, so quickly put on our armour, left the cabin and lay face down on the tarmac outside as protocol demanded.
The C-RAM base defences sent long bursts of bright gunfire into the night’s sky to intercept the rockets, but their sheer number meant that many still got through. We could feel them hitting the ground around us; some extremely close by. There would be the occasional lull, then, just as the all-clear would sound, more rockets would arrive. It was continuous.
I could see Dave becoming agitated, and as a sergeant it was my duty to help. I reached out and patted his helmet, saying:
“Dave, I’m here, mate. I’m here with you. It’s OK, we’ll be OK.” “I don’t like this,” he replied, shaking. “I need to get out of this.”
“No, we have to stay here,” I said. “We don’t move. Belt-buckle on the tarmac is the safest option”.
As I spoke, a rocket landed very close by. The sound was tremendous. We felt the impact of the explosion then the debris flooding onto us – shrapnel, dirt and tarmac.
“They’re getting closer!” said Dave, close to panic. So, I kept talking, keeping him calm.
The volume of incoming definitely made it the worst night that I experienced during my tour. Time and again a lull would be followed by another round of explosions across the base.
When the all-clear finally sounded my first thoughts were for Dave. We sat up, and he grabbed his cigarettes while I passed him a bottle of water. After a few moments I decided to focus his mind elsewhere.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s start the postattack procedures.”
So, we walked around our cabin checking for any casualties, damage or unexploded rockets. After that we went back inside and I made us some tea, spooning extra sugars into Dave’s. We had a chat and, as his adrenaline had been going non-stop, I told him to have a power nap to calm down before continuing the shift. After that he was fine.
I was fine too. While the attack had been prolonged and very close, looking after Dave gave me something to focus on, which in turn helped me to cope with everything that was happening. Being able to help someone in a situation like that is one of my proudest achievements.
A Counter-Rocket, Artillery, and Mortar (C-RAM) weapons system in action. It is able to acquire its own targets and fire 4,500 rounds per minute © Public domain
