This page contains a Flash digital edition of a book.
CAMPAIGN GROUPS AND PAIRS


Ken ‘Luke’ Lukowiak was born in 1959 and joined the Parachute Regiment in the summer of 1979. Of his subsequent experiences in Northern Ireland, he later wrote:


‘The papers used words like ‘cowardly’ and ‘incompetent’ to describe the I.R.A. We couldn’t afford such illusions. By the early Eighties, the I.R.A. knew everything there was to know about the construction, planting and detonation of bombs. And, after more than ten years of watching, they also knew everything about us. So we tried to keep our timings and our actions as varied as possible; tried not to cross a hedge at the same point twice, or stop for a fag break where others had stopped. But Forkhill was a small place with only so many routes around and through it. And we knew it. So we touched nothing. And we opened nothing. But we still got killed. A Private from D Company was blown up in a barn, and a Sergeant from B Company was killed by a bomb on the outskirts of the village. That brought the total lost on the tour to 20. Two years later, we fought two battles in the Falklands and lost only - although that can never be the right word - 18 men.’


In respect of those experiences in the Falklands, the following passages have been extracted from A Soldier’s Song. Goose Green


‘I joined the Parachute Regiment in the summer of 1979, though for some reason nearly three years went by before I realised it. My moment of realisation was brought about by the exploding of an artillery shell on the Falkland Islands. I looked up from the piece of ground that I was trying to dissolve into and took in the surrounding scene. I saw lots of people dressed exactly like me. Then another shell impacted, this time in the distance. The ground exploded. Bits of soil and grass blew skywards, leaving a puff of white smoke in their wake. As I took all of this in, it hit me like a brick. “Oh shit,” I said, “I’m in the Army.” ’


‘ ... As I lay against the hedge I was willing my body to dissolve into the ground, I could not move, I did not want to move, I also did not wish to remain where I was. I didn’t know what I wanted. Except for two things: I knew I wanted the Argentine sniper to die and I knew I wanted the Argentine mortar crew to die. The sooner the better ... Someone called out: “If I’d known I was going to do this much lying down I would have brought a fucking pillow.” We all laughed. I still laugh at this - it still seems funny.’


‘ ... The shelling increased, I could hear in the distance the sound of approaching jets. We were told they were Harriers. As the jets flew directly overhead the day exploded into sound. Once again everything turned to slow motion. I felt a sharp pain in my back. It hurt so much that it didn’t. I was lifted into the air; I felt as though I was hovering. I screamed aloud: “I’ve been hit. I’ve been hit.” I fell to the ground and reached my hand behind my back. I found myself breathing heavily. My back felt very warm. I was convinced I was bleeding. I twisted my head to look over my shoulder, I could see smoke rising from my back. I found my mind pulling itself back from complete panic. In seconds I told myself that I was still breathing, that my heart was still beating, that I would live ... Someone was holding my hand. I could hear two voices saying, “It’s all right Luke, it’s all right.” It was Jed and the Mortar Officer, Captain Tonks. Jed rolled me over on my stomach. Suddenly he pulled me back around on to my back. In his hand he held a small metal disc. He said it was this that had hit me. Then he hit me - but not very hard. My screams had scared the shit out of all around me. The small metal disc had once been part of a Blowpipe missile. On hitting me it had cut through my back webbing strap plus five layers of clothing and left me with a small nick that it would have been over the top to have put a plaster on.‘


‘ ... More time passed, once again slowly, then a message was shouted that the Argies were jacking ... The soldiers of the other trenches that made up our position were now all out of their holes. They were also smiling. They were all laughing. A radio operator shouted out that the Argentines wanted to parade and sing their National Anthem before they surrendered. I said to Bill that I’d go and fucking sing it with them, if it would help them to surrender.’


Fitzroy


‘The helicopter landed and three men jumped out, a General, the General’s adjutant and a radio operator ... The General then asked if I liked the Falkland Islands and was I enjoying it here? I’ve been asked a few stupid questions in my time, but this was Number One, it really took the biscuit ... My mind pieced together a suitable reply before my lips did.


“Well, sir, I’m 8,000 miles from home, in a place that has already proved itself to be the arsehole of the earth. Four of my friends are dead, I’m up to my neck in shit, mud and water, the killing is still going on and just to top it off really nicely it’s started to snow. How the fuck do you think I feel, shit for brains?”


Mindful of an earlier encounter with a General in Northern Ireland, as a result of which he had received the full attention of the R.S.M., Lukowiak in fact replied that he was fine, and honoured to be on the Islands serving his country. He was, nonetheless, much amused by a comrade’s observation as the General’s helicopter took-off: “Where the fuck’s the Argentine Air Force when you need the bastards?”


Wireless Ridge


‘The Argentine shelling increased, although most of it was landing quite a distance away from us. Then one barrage landed close. Very close. With every explosion I found myself flinching. Frank, who was lying beside me, had a go at me for my flinching - he said my nervousness was making him nervous. I asked was he sure it was me? Was he sure that the exploding shells had nothing to do with it? Our silent mortar line opened fire. I couldn’t believe the noise. It pierced my brain. It left my ears and my head physically hurting. I had never been that close to a firing mortar line before and as I was a good fifty yards away from it I wondered how it felt for the mortar crews who were stood right on it. I had the thought that they were sure to be very deaf in later years. Eventually the firing stopped. My ears still rang but I was able to fall into sleep.’


‘ ... We left the headless, legless Argentines and made our way round the position of trenches they had lost their lives defending. There were many other twisted corpses scattered around, littering the ground. Once again we were struck by how young most of them appeared. By this time we had become reasonably proficient at diagnosing cause of death and as we inspected various dead people we drew the conclusion that none of them had died from gunshot wounds - they had all been killed by artillery fire. The conscripts’ fear and inexperience had pulled them from their holes, when their best bet would have been to stay put. This was of course easy for us to say - but not so easy for them to do.


In one of the trenches there was a dirty green blanket - it moved. Yank and I jumped back and at the same time cocked our weapons. Out from under the blanket appeared an Argentine soldier. He had not noticed our presence. He got to his feet, stretched out his arms and let out a big yawn. He had obviously just woken up. He finished yawning, opened his eyes and finally noticed us.


“Hello,” I said.


Seems ridiculous now, but that is what I said. Yank said that the Royal Artillery was going to be well pissed off with this one should they ever find out that he had slept through their biggest artillery barrage since Korea.


With our machine-guns, we gestured for the Argentine to climb from his trench. Yank covered him with his weapon and I gave him a quick body search. As I searched him I told our prisoner that the war was over. “The war. Finito,” I said.’ His comrade having departed the scene with the Argentine prisoner, Lukowiak continued searching the enemy positions:


‘I looked across the plateau and saw another trench. I approached it from the side. Crouched in the trench was a figure in grey. I saw him. He saw me. He held a rifle. I moved my first finger on my right hand. Bullets left the end of my machine-gun. They hit the figure in grey. They impacted into his chest and threw him back against the side of the trench. Grey turned to red. He slid to the ground ... Today, ten years on with the war long gone, I am left with lots of don’t knows. I don’t understand the logic of the world that I live in. The only thing that I do know, and I really do know this, is that I have two sons. One who carries my blood and one who does not. Blood is not important. I never want my sons to have to go to war and I never want my sons to take another human life. I don’t want yours to either.’


Ken Lukowiak left the army in 1984. The success of A Soldier’s Song, published in 1992, led to two separate and successful theatrical productions. He has since written for many publications, including the Guardian and the Mail on Sunday, and for B.B.C. Radio 4.


www.dnw.co.uk


Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32  |  Page 33  |  Page 34  |  Page 35  |  Page 36  |  Page 37  |  Page 38  |  Page 39  |  Page 40  |  Page 41  |  Page 42  |  Page 43  |  Page 44  |  Page 45  |  Page 46  |  Page 47  |  Page 48  |  Page 49  |  Page 50  |  Page 51  |  Page 52  |  Page 53  |  Page 54  |  Page 55  |  Page 56  |  Page 57  |  Page 58  |  Page 59  |  Page 60  |  Page 61  |  Page 62  |  Page 63  |  Page 64  |  Page 65  |  Page 66  |  Page 67  |  Page 68  |  Page 69  |  Page 70  |  Page 71  |  Page 72  |  Page 73  |  Page 74  |  Page 75  |  Page 76  |  Page 77  |  Page 78  |  Page 79  |  Page 80  |  Page 81  |  Page 82  |  Page 83  |  Page 84  |  Page 85  |  Page 86  |  Page 87  |  Page 88  |  Page 89  |  Page 90  |  Page 91  |  Page 92  |  Page 93  |  Page 94  |  Page 95  |  Page 96  |  Page 97  |  Page 98  |  Page 99  |  Page 100  |  Page 101  |  Page 102  |  Page 103  |  Page 104  |  Page 105  |  Page 106  |  Page 107  |  Page 108  |  Page 109  |  Page 110  |  Page 111  |  Page 112  |  Page 113  |  Page 114  |  Page 115  |  Page 116  |  Page 117  |  Page 118  |  Page 119  |  Page 120  |  Page 121  |  Page 122  |  Page 123  |  Page 124  |  Page 125  |  Page 126  |  Page 127  |  Page 128  |  Page 129  |  Page 130  |  Page 131  |  Page 132  |  Page 133  |  Page 134  |  Page 135  |  Page 136  |  Page 137  |  Page 138  |  Page 139  |  Page 140  |  Page 141  |  Page 142  |  Page 143  |  Page 144  |  Page 145  |  Page 146  |  Page 147  |  Page 148  |  Page 149  |  Page 150  |  Page 151  |  Page 152  |  Page 153  |  Page 154  |  Page 155  |  Page 156  |  Page 157  |  Page 158  |  Page 159  |  Page 160  |  Page 161  |  Page 162  |  Page 163  |  Page 164  |  Page 165  |  Page 166  |  Page 167  |  Page 168  |  Page 169  |  Page 170  |  Page 171  |  Page 172  |  Page 173  |  Page 174  |  Page 175  |  Page 176  |  Page 177  |  Page 178  |  Page 179  |  Page 180  |  Page 181  |  Page 182  |  Page 183  |  Page 184  |  Page 185  |  Page 186  |  Page 187  |  Page 188  |  Page 189  |  Page 190  |  Page 191  |  Page 192  |  Page 193  |  Page 194  |  Page 195  |  Page 196  |  Page 197  |  Page 198  |  Page 199  |  Page 200  |  Page 201  |  Page 202  |  Page 203  |  Page 204  |  Page 205  |  Page 206  |  Page 207  |  Page 208  |  Page 209  |  Page 210  |  Page 211  |  Page 212  |  Page 213  |  Page 214  |  Page 215  |  Page 216  |  Page 217  |  Page 218  |  Page 219  |  Page 220  |  Page 221  |  Page 222  |  Page 223  |  Page 224  |  Page 225  |  Page 226  |  Page 227  |  Page 228  |  Page 229  |  Page 230  |  Page 231  |  Page 232  |  Page 233  |  Page 234  |  Page 235  |  Page 236  |  Page 237  |  Page 238  |  Page 239  |  Page 240  |  Page 241  |  Page 242  |  Page 243  |  Page 244  |  Page 245  |  Page 246  |  Page 247  |  Page 248  |  Page 249  |  Page 250  |  Page 251  |  Page 252  |  Page 253  |  Page 254  |  Page 255  |  Page 256  |  Page 257  |  Page 258  |  Page 259  |  Page 260  |  Page 261  |  Page 262  |  Page 263  |  Page 264  |  Page 265  |  Page 266  |  Page 267  |  Page 268  |  Page 269  |  Page 270  |  Page 271  |  Page 272  |  Page 273  |  Page 274  |  Page 275  |  Page 276  |  Page 277  |  Page 278  |  Page 279  |  Page 280  |  Page 281  |  Page 282  |  Page 283  |  Page 284  |  Page 285  |  Page 286  |  Page 287  |  Page 288  |  Page 289  |  Page 290  |  Page 291  |  Page 292  |  Page 293  |  Page 294  |  Page 295  |  Page 296  |  Page 297  |  Page 298  |  Page 299  |  Page 300  |  Page 301  |  Page 302  |  Page 303  |  Page 304  |  Page 305  |  Page 306  |  Page 307  |  Page 308  |  Page 309  |  Page 310  |  Page 311  |  Page 312  |  Page 313  |  Page 314  |  Page 315  |  Page 316  |  Page 317  |  Page 318  |  Page 319  |  Page 320  |  Page 321  |  Page 322  |  Page 323  |  Page 324  |  Page 325  |  Page 326  |  Page 327  |  Page 328  |  Page 329  |  Page 330  |  Page 331  |  Page 332  |  Page 333  |  Page 334  |  Page 335  |  Page 336  |  Page 337  |  Page 338  |  Page 339  |  Page 340  |  Page 341  |  Page 342  |  Page 343  |  Page 344  |  Page 345  |  Page 346  |  Page 347  |  Page 348  |  Page 349  |  Page 350  |  Page 351  |  Page 352  |  Page 353  |  Page 354  |  Page 355  |  Page 356  |  Page 357  |  Page 358  |  Page 359  |  Page 360  |  Page 361  |  Page 362  |  Page 363  |  Page 364  |  Page 365  |  Page 366  |  Page 367  |  Page 368  |  Page 369  |  Page 370  |  Page 371  |  Page 372  |  Page 373  |  Page 374  |  Page 375  |  Page 376  |  Page 377  |  Page 378  |  Page 379  |  Page 380