Rob of Risingham invited to Afghanistan by the Royal Artillery

I have been saving one of my sheep, Rob of Risingham, named after a Chief Archer in the Roman Army stationed on Hadrian's Wall, in the hope of finding someone currently serving in the British Army, who will take him out to Afghanistan.

A few days ago, I was delighted to get an email from a lady whose husband is a sub-unit commander at 5th Regiment, Royal Artillery, based in Catterick. He is deploying with 178 guys to Afghanistan in the Spring.
Clare wrote: 'I am sure my husband would be delighted to be part of your project and I know that our 5yr old would be very excited to see the photos of Daddy and the sheep!
I am sure James would be very proud to have a sheep mascot for his battery as I think the battle group sign is a ram'.

I am especially pleased that Rob will be going to Afghanistan because I have fond memories of the Afghan people I met on an overland expedition to India, with a group of other young students, many years ago.

We drove out of Iran, through Afghanistan, from Herat in the north to the capital, Kabul, before going on into the Khyber Pass.
We shopped for embroidered sheepskin jackets in the bazaars and met with Afghan students in cafes. Their English was near perfect.

One day we had parked our bus for a 'comfort stop'. Ladies over the horizon to the right, men to the left.
How useful it would have been to have Burkhas then!!

While we were eating our picnic at the side of the road, a local wagon drew up in front of us. On the side, it had a large, colourful, lovingly hand painted lion with mountains in the background. From the front bumper hung a fringe of bath chains with bells, and fairy lights adorned the cab.

The driver and his mate jumped out with arms full of melons which they began to cut into slices and share with us.
They didn't speak English and we didn't know their language. We all talked together anyway pointing out our route to India from Britain, on a map.
It didn't matter that we didn't understand a word. Their gesture of
friendship was unmistakable.

Melons eaten, they jumped back into their cab and drove away calling out of the windows with more smiles and waves.
We waved and watched, still surprised, until they were out of sight in a cloud of dust on the long straight road heading north.
That was more than 40 years ago but I have never forgotten their kindness.

When I hear on the news about our soldiers being blown up with roadside bombs and see the human tragedy in shattered villages, it makes me sad.
What that expedition taught me was that there are good and bad people in every nation and there is much we can learn from each other.