Sunday 6th

Today saw our last casualty go through theatre and then recover sufficiently to leave ITU. This meant that both departments could be thoroughly cleaned and organised in preparation for our sail home. It really does appear that our time out here is coming to an end. The Argus has served its purpose and we are ready to return to our normal jobs as fire fighters back in the U.K. Most importantly the medical staff can return to their respective hospitals and sickbays where they have no doubt been sorely missed.

On a lighter note, whilst on radio duty I discovered that an anagram of "Blair's war on Hussein" is "Bush's insane oil warr". It's a shame about the double "r" at the end but other than that it works.

Members of the Band working with an Iraqi Casualty on the CT Scan

Members of the band working in the Emergency Room with casualties

Monday 7th

After helping with the Casevac of a handful of EPW's to 202 Field Hospital in Kuwait, we mustered on the flight deck for our first rehearsal for the display that we are due to give next Sunday. It will follow the format of a regular Beat Retreat, but with a slight extension so ensure that we really finish things off in style!

Not content with the arduous challenge of humping up and down the flight deck of a moving ship, the band has voted to do yet more phys after the rehearsal. Having full use of the open space, the band opt unanimously for a run rather than circuits. As tops are frivolously discarded, with everyone determined to get that classic all-over burn that smacks of "Brits abroad", it becomes apparent how much weight has been shed by many band members since the deployment began. Congratulations must go to the likes of Taff Ingram, Gordon Carter and Drummy for the immense poundage lost over the past three or four months. Dave Sharp deserves applause, as his strict regime of daily circuits had no small part in their trim new looks. However, "Slimmer of the Trip" has to be Karl "Elmo" Elwell, whose wife will surely fail to recognise him when he arrives back in Dartmouth three stones lighter. Only that famous tongue will give away his identity.

Cpl McGleish is presented with his Long Service Good Conduct Medal

Tuesday 8th

We loaded the last remaining Iraqi casualties on to Chinooks today to be taken ashore. To be honest it was quite a surreal couple of hours. Having received quality and friendly care aboard, it was strange seeing them all smiling and waving at us, thanking us for everything, whilst we had no idea what kind of follow-up treatment they would receive. Had we done them a favour by issuing first class medical assistance when they could well be returning to a country providing fourth-rate hospitals and a minimal welfare system? Giving that conundrum some thought made me realise that it was irrelevant. The PCRF carried out its role to extremely high standards, which is the way that it must always function. Regardless of age, gender, nationality or political standpoint, every casualty must be handled with the same commitment to their immediate treatment, recovery and palliative care. If the Iraqi EPW's move to a harsher environment when they leave our ship, then so be it. We have the peace of mind of knowing that we carried out our jobs efficiently and within the parameters of the Geneva Convention.

Wednesday 9th

The "slight extension" to our beat retreat has turned it into a mini Horseguards parade: almost Royal Tournamentesque! In fact, a display team riding on the flight deck's forklift trucks jumping through a fire-hoop would round off the monumental event perfectly. Of course, my sarcasm masks the fact that everyone was up for a spectacular finale to the trip so we threw ourselves into a meaty rehearsal, fuelled by the fact that, due to the fire strikes, most of us hadn't given such a performance for many months.

Wednesday was a strange day for me, as I received two bizarre mailies. Firstly I had a parcel containing four massive bars of chocolate and a paper bag of liquorish allsorts. Nothing strange about that, but no note accompanied this very welcome package, there was no sender's address, I didn't recognise the handwriting, and there wasn't enough of the post-mark visible to determine the parcel's origin. Whoever it was from: thank you. Liquorish is my favourite!
Secondly, I received a letter from a lady I've never heard of, asking for a reference to aid another lady I've never heard of get a job as a care assistant in a residential home that, needless to say, I've also never heard of. I gave her a reference, of sorts, and I am confident that the job is hers!

Thursday 10th

I ran a marathon on one of the ship's treadmills today, but someone else is going to write about that so I shall move on. Nothing else of interest really happened after that, but I cunningly kept back some things from yesterday to pad out today's journal!

We had band and PCRF departmental photographs taken today which will no doubt be added to Mouse Meacham's CD of photos from the whole trip, which he is currently amalgamating on his laptop. I assume these will be promulgated on the Blue Band Website later. Trying to size everyone from the PCRF proved a time consuming and painstaking evolution. Understandably, when asked to say "cheese", most people chose other words to shout. Whether all 400 personnel will actually be visible in the end product or not remains to be seen

Friday 11th

Today's serial consisted primarily of handing in our Individual Protection Equipment (I.P.E.): the heavy-duty gear including gas masks protecting us from any chemical or biological attacks. No sooner had we done this than the ship went to Emergency Stations for an apparently unknown reason. Needless to say, we were extremely relieved to hear that the ship was merely on fire, and not under chemical attack.

Saturday 12th

Controversially Saturday has been a day of rest; the sun came out in force today so it was "hands to bronzing stations", apropos all being burnt to a cinder by 1400.
Poor old Parky should have been getting married today, so an inflatable bride was given to him, which he had to carry around with him for the entire day. We all laughed as his blow-up wife kept "going down on him", and wondered what he'd be getting up to on his honeymoon tomorrow. By the end of the day she was totally deflated; "just half the woman she once was" said one comedian, but she still managed to "8-piece" Parky at Uckers.

Sunday 13th

Sunday was a day of much anticipated excitement, especially for the female nurses. A barbecue was to be enjoyed on the flight deck in relaxed clothing. Yes, that's right, all blue and green uniforms could be discarded and summer clothes (which were predominantly blue and green I observed) could be worn; the caveat on that being only the males could go entirely topless, which was not an entirely popular decision. The band were ushered to the front of the food queue, an eminently popular decision, so we could get ready for the Beat Retreat. As we formed up and made our way towards the rear of the flight deck, it seemed we only had an audience of about17, but as we performed an immediate about-turn to face down the ship we were taken aback as we saw hundreds of the ship's company gathered on the superstructure, spread over all decks to watch the display.

The Band Beat Retreat on the RFA Argus

It went well; very well. OK, modesty out of the window, it really was first class. One of those occasions when the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and for Bugler Jon Lee that's a lot of hairs. Our performance was gratefully rewarded with an hour in the Officers' Mess, during which time we set about drinking their bar dry, knowing full well that ours would already be long since devoid of beer.

The Final Beat Retreat on RFA Argus

Monday 14th

Monday. The final day on board. Time to reflect on everything that has happened. The good things, the bad things, the highs, the lows, the inter-watch rivalry, like the resounding strain of "Port watch: Scum; sub-human scum" (takes it to know it, if you ask me), the countless games of midnight Scrabble, the odd can of warm Foster's after a tough day on the wards, dangerous Iraqi casualties going into theatre but coming out 'armless! Of course there were bad times, but too few to mention.

It's been a memorable experience. It wouldn't be over-dramatic to say a life-changing experience. We will all be better, stronger and more wholesome people as a result of the past few months. There is no such thing as a good war but it would be nice to think that some good will have come out of all this.

Musn Ross Hunt