The Circuit (32 page)

Three days after arriving in Kabul, the rest of the team had gone leaving just me and Joe to look after a very active client. Unlike some diplomats, this ambassador was not content to sit inside the four walls of his embassy and take meetings. He wanted to go out and see for himself how his nation’s money was being spent in Afghanistan.

One of the first issues I had to address was the ambassador’s armoured vehicle. It was very high profile. Just like the Greek Ambassador in Iraq, this ambassador had plastered his national flag on his shiny armoured 4x4. I needed to lower the vehicle’s profile starting with the flag. I told the ambassador it would have to go. At first he was reluctant. The ambassador was understandably proud of what his country was doing in Afghanistan and believed his nation and its representatives were well liked. I explained that while many Afghans did appreciate his nation’s philanthropy, as far as the insurgents were concerned, there was no difference between his country and the United States; any country working in support of the American-backed Afghan government, whether directly or indirectly, was a target. The ambassador was a reasonable man and a rather likeable character. As long as I explained why I insisted on doing things a certain way, he’d let me get on with my job. He agreed to remove the flag from his vehicle.

Next, Joe and I had to get the ambassador’s backing vehicle sorted. The ambassador’s 4x4 was a top-of-the-line level B6/7 armoured vehicle. As his only alternative means of transport in the event of a breakdown or incident, the backing vehicle should have provided the same level of protection. All we had for the job was a soft-skinned pickup truck.

Following the ambassador around in a soft-skinned pickup was like wearing a track suit to a black tie event. More than once I was stopped and questioned at a venue where I’d just delivered the ambassador because the guards didn’t believe I was part of his CP team.

A few days after launching my email campaign, responses started landing in my inbox; all of them assuring me that everything possible was being done to increase our numbers and get us the equipment we needed. To me, Colin and his bosses back in KR London had failed to grasp the urgency of our situation. The safety of the team and the client alone should have spurred KR to fix all of these problems before I even joined the contract.

The situation raised a number of serious questions in my mind about KR’s management. It doesn’t matter where a manager is based; London, Washington or Dubai, they must keep tabs on what’s happening with their contracts at ground level. It’s one thing to sit in a plush London office or an expensive restaurant bluffing a client into signing on the dotted line. Where the manager really earns his money is in the contract’s execution.

In my view, the moment KR management in London knew there was a chance the contract could be slashed, they should have taken off their stripy suit jackets, rolled up their shirtsleeves and got stuck in to safeguard the team and the client, not to mention the company’s future in Afghanistan.

I suspected nothing would change without a kick up the arse – or to put it more accurately – up the wallet. In my follow-up emails and phone calls to KR London, I highlighted the financial implications of allowing the embassy’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs to dictate the number of advisers assigned to the contract. Obviously, the reduction in manpower represented an immediate loss of revenue to KR, but it had long-term implications as well. If the team went from two advisers to none, KR would lose its presence in Afghanistan entirely. With security contracts tapering off in Iraq, commercial security companies needed to move into other markets. KR had established itself in Afghanistan with a high-profile client; an excellent springboard for capturing other business in country. To sacrifice that foothold was madness.

A few more rounds of emails and I was still getting nowhere with KR London. My patience was exhausted. I asked Colin to fly to Kabul to sort the situation with the embassy. He suggested, and I agreed, that instead of flying to Afghanistan he travel to the embassy’s home country and make his appeal directly to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

At long last, I thought, Colin was getting off his arse and doing something.

A few days later I hadn’t heard anything from Colin, so I sent an email asking him when he planned to fly out for his meeting. I got an ‘Out of Office Reply’. Colin had got on a plane all right, but not for business. He’d just left on a ten-day holiday.

CHAPTER 32

I’ve always been a fan of direct communication. When given the choice, I’d rather have it out with someone face to face than discuss things over the phone or fly emails back and forth. Some people, on the other hand, will do everything in their power to avoid a direct confrontation.

I wanted nothing more than to fly back to London, grab Colin by the lapels of his suit jacket and ask him why he wasn’t getting off his fat arse and providing some duty of care to his clients and the team on the ground. But as much as it would make me feel better, I knew it wouldn’t fix things. I had to be realistic about the situation. As far as I could see, Colin had shown no interest in lobbying the client to reinstate the team in full. Moreover, we still didn’t have proper weapons, transport or kit and the security situation in Kabul was growing deadlier by the day. While Colin was enjoying himself on holiday, a Canadian diplomatic vehicle was hit by an IED east of Kabul. Things were definitely heating up in the Afghan capital. The longer the situation with the embassy contract was allowed to fester the longer the client’s security and that of the team would be compromised.

I decided the best course of action would be to play the corporate email game. As much as I love direct communication, it doesn’t leave a record of what is said. I needed proof, in writing, that nothing was being done to fix the problems associated with the contract. It was essential I establish a paper trail.

When he returned from his holiday, I wrote a very stern email to Colin and copied his boss on it. Once again, I loaded my memo with as much ammunition as I could, including the attack on the Canadians, to argue the case for swift action. I told him the ambassador had taken a brief home leave and would be back in Kabul in two days’ time, so we had a narrow window in which to act.

Rather than follow up on his previous plan of flying to the embassy’s home country to make a direct appeal to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Colin sent the following response: ‘I am convinced that any expansion of the team has to be driven from your end,’ he wrote. ‘We will, of course endorse and take any action forward.’

I couldn’t believe it. He was trying to put the onus on me.

I kept the paper trail going. I argued that I didn’t agree that the expansion of the team should be driven by my end and told him that KR should be advising from London directly to the client’s home country – not via Kabul. I told him the issue was a matter of priority and reminded him that the ambassador was due back in country.

‘In 2 days time Joe and I “play” at looking after the ambassador whilst the [KR] Ops room remains empty,’ I wrote. ‘. . . Not only are we ultra slim on the ground, but in addition we are still waiting on adequate firearms.’

In closing, I referenced the assurances Colin had given me in London.

‘I accepted this job believing that we would be fully backed by [KR] London,’ I wrote. ‘I’ll continue to work as I have been doing with the ambassador, however, the London office must represent and act on the intelligence and information that we are sending you. I’ve tried to be completely pro active in keeping this side going. If we don’t get on track soonest, someone could pay with their life.’

To be honest, I fully expected to get sacked for what I’d written. I’d learned that before I took over the team some good ex-Regiment lads had been let go for being outspoken about KR’s handling of the embassy contract.

Perhaps it was because I’d put everything in writing, but finally, after a month and a half of relentless badgering on my part, I was told that the team was going back up to two rotations of six advisers. When I heard the news I didn’t know whether to be cross with myself for putting up with a bad situation for so long, or to pat myself on the back for sticking with the job and trying to make it work.

It was great to have got the team reinstated in full. I felt strongly that the ambassador was a man worth fighting for and that he deserved to be well looked after. Still, it was a partial victory. We still did not have adequate weapons systems, a level B6/7 backup vehicle or other essential kit.

I tried not to dwell on the negatives and focused on building the best possible CP team for the ambassador. Just like operations in the Regiment, I wanted to make sure we had the right mix of lads with good core skills that could complement each other. Joe had been outstanding during our six weeks together as a two-man team. If I could have got four more Joes, my job would have been easy.

It wasn’t. There was a lot of turnover throughout my time on the contract and finding and keeping qualified advisers was an uphill battle from the word go. It seemed each time I’d get a good lad up to speed, he’d resign over the management of the contract in London. Rarely were the replacements dispatched by London up to the mark, even though by that point there were plenty of qualified advisers available.

During the boom years, many commercial security companies sent unqualified advisers to hostile environments because there weren’t enough experienced ones to go around. But after the bubble burst, green advisers continued to slip through; partly, because they were cheap but also because some CSCs had found a way to give any adviser, regardless of background, a veneer of credibility: the SIA accreditation.

The Security Industry Authority or SIA was created in 2003 to regulate the commercial security industry in Great Britain. Though a step in the right direction, the SIA in my view falls down on two major counts; first, it cannot
impose
regulations on CSCs. Secondly, it has no authority over security services rendered abroad. The SIA’s remit extends only to England, Scotland and Wales.

The SIA has nothing to do with hostile environments but that hasn’t stopped CSCs from using the organization as a marketing tool to win contracts in places like Afghanistan and Iraq. Many CSCs boast to potential clients that its employees are ‘SIA accredited’. Some CSCs won’t hire advisers unless they’ve sat an SIA-approved CP course, many of which are operated by the CSC in question. Tuition for these courses typically runs from £2,500 to £3,000; money that comes out of the advisers’ pockets, not the companies employing them.

During my time as co-Operations Manager on the KR contract, I had almost two dozen SIA-accredited advisers pass through my team. Some were excellent but a large number had no business working CP in a hostile environment. Many with a military Corps background, the non-infanteers, lacked basic weapons and tactics skills. They had no idea how to handle a pistol; their military backgrounds hadn’t prepared them and thanks to the UK handgun ban, neither had their SIA courses. It’s crucial a CP adviser be fluent in the use of a pistol because it’s the immediate backup weapon in a hostile environment (the first is usually the vehicle weapon). It’s one thing to play with a pistol loaded with dummy rounds on an SIA course and quite another to carry one with a live round in the chamber ready to fire.

Negligent discharges (unintended firing of weapons) are plentiful on The Circuit. There have even been cases in which advisers have shot themselves accidentally. Rather than ensure that all advisers are properly trained in the use of firearms, many CSCs have addressed the problem by instructing advisers not to carry weapons with a chambered round.

In addition to weapons handling, some of the lads sent to me by KR London lacked other core skills, such as medical training; a crucial reactive skill in a hostile environment. Tactical driving experience was another area I found wanting. It takes a tremendous amount of training to bounce a serviceable armoured vehicle safely through Baghdad, Kabul or any other busy hostile environment. In my view, the driver is the most important person in the vehicle inclusive of the client because if the driver gets it wrong, everyone is in the shit. It takes a special person to be a top driver. Every trip, no matter what the distance, is exhausting. The driver’s awareness is paramount and a good one provides a verbal running commentary to ensure that everyone in the vehicle sees what he sees.

Tactical driving, weapons handling, medical training; all are basic skills every CP adviser should master before working in a hostile environment. Yet some SIA courses devote only a couple of days to each subject. The bottom line is SIA accreditation may prepare an adviser to look after rich foreigners shopping in Knightsbridge, but it has no bearing whatsoever on hostile environments.

Each time KR London sent me an adviser with an SIA tick in the box but little practical knowledge, it was infuriating. Fortunately, some of the SIA lads did have terrific backgrounds and from time to time I was able to cobble together a strong team. In those instances, I’d try to take our professionalism to the next level by running the team through a series of CP training exercises.

The training programme involved both classroom work and a weekly session on the live-fire ranges outside Kabul. My goal for the team was to achieve an operational standard that exceeded anything any of us had done before commercially.

During our live-fire range sessions, we ran drills based on every conceivable type of contact we could encounter in Afghanistan; from being fired on whilst mending a punctured tyre to a fully fledged technical ambush in which our vehicles were blown off the road and disabled. Our locally procured weapons and ammo worked well enough for us to put down live fire as if we were in a real contact. Unlike top-grade weapons, however, the local ones frequently jammed. We probably carried out more weapons stoppage drills than any other CP team in Afghanistan.

Our objective each time we hit the ranges was to break contact with the ‘enemy’ within twelve seconds of initiation. It would take a while with each successive team but we always achieved that.