Billy Drinkwater
I served in 1st Battalion of The Royal Anglian Regiment. I was initially in C Company, and then became a sniper in D Company, before moving back to C. The tour when I was injured was my third tour: I’d been to Iraq and Afghanistan previously. This time, I was deployed to Afghanistan as a Section Commander in charge of an eight-man team. I was a bit apprehensive before the tour, because our preparation was rushed. I had six weeks to train my men up, and get to know them. Some of the blokes were quite new, and I hadn’t worked with them before, so I was a bit worried that we weren’t well-prepared enough.
I was injured on 31st January 2010. We were clearing an area, we moved into position, and an IED went off. Me and my front man – Ken Facal, who is also in this book – were casevac’d back to Bastion, and then within about a day, back to Birmingham. That’s where I had my operations, and began my recovery. My right eye was totally destroyed – I’ve actually got a prosthetic eye in at the moment. A piece of shrapnel hit my cheek bone, went up through the eye and narrowly missed my brain; it was quite lucky I didn’t also sustain a brain injury. I had corneal damage to my left eye, and I think slight damage to the optic nerve. The doctors didn’t know the full extent of what I’d still be able to see until after all the operations were completed; I had a lot of debris in my eye, which had to be removed bit by bit. I also had a lot of facial scarring; I’m lucky to have a nose. I got hit in the jugular too, but the shrapnel didn’t penetrate too much.
I was totally blind for two or three weeks. It was horrible. Because of all the drugs I was on, I hallucinated a lot. You think that you’re seeing, but you’re not, because it’s a hallucination. I thought I was still in Afghanistan, and everyone was telling me, “No, you’re in Birmingham, you’re in Selly Oak”, but I didn’t believe it. I had other hallucinations, things like being in a shopping mall—I think maybe because trolleys were being pushed around in the hospital. It was weird, and scary as well. Although I understood my injuries—I knew my right eye was gone—my brain was telling me something else because of the drug-induced hallucinations. Then the doctors said I might recover some vision in my left eye, and that became the main focus. Once I knew my right eye was gone, I accepted it—I didn’t cry or anything. What’s the point; it’s gone, it’s not going to come back. But one thing that was very difficult was not knowing the extent of my scars, because I couldn’t see. I was having visions of what I’d look like in the mirror, and it was really awful.
I was in hospital with my frontman Ken. I knew him way before Afghanistan. He was always my main man in my Section, he was the guy I always trusted. We’re very, very close friends, like brothers, basically. Knowing he was injured was horrible. To begin with, when I was so drugged up I didn’t really know what was going on, I thought he was dead. In my hallucinations, I thought someone had told me he had died. Then, when someone told me he was alive, but badly injured, it was a very sad time, but it was happy sad; it was very emotional. He was in a much worse state than me. I got out of intensive care a lot quicker. I went down to see him, to talk to him, and he could understand; he could squeeze your hand. I was really worried about whether he’d pull through or not, and it was a huge relief when he did.
I was discharged after six weeks in hospital. I went home for a weekend, and then I went to Blind Veterans UK in Ovingdean, Brighton. I met other people with eye injuries, and chatting to them really helped. A lot of them were older than me, so it was good to know how they’d dealt with things, and learnt to live with blindness.
When I was there, the doctors didn’t know if my eye would recover at all, so I was taught how to cope with total blindness. It was inspiring to see how other blind people get on, living their lives, totally blind. Things like how they walk down the street, how they make themselves a cup of tea—everyday things people take for granted. I just had to take everything as it was coming. I couldn’t really think too much about the past. I’d been dealt a new life, so I just had to focus on that, and try and get back to having peace of mind again. I then went to Headley Court to work on my fitness, and have rehab on my left hand, which was damaged in the explosion. I also worked on getting my balance back—when you’ve lost an eye, your balance is a bit shot.
Initially, I think I was probably in denial that my Military career was over. I could have stayed in, but I couldn’t keep doing my job or what I wanted to go on to do. I had to start again. I was seventeen when I joined the Army. I didn’t know anything about it—I used to work with my old man, and I remember just looking out of the office window, seeing the same Army recruitment billboard. Then 9/11 happened, and that also made me want to join up. It was seeing all those innocent people dying, and how much it affected the families. It made me sad, and I thought that joining the Army would be a way of doing something. So leaving my Military career was difficult, and it still bites you in the arse sometimes. But I think of everything that I did, and all the experience and knowledge I gained, and that helps me to cope.
I don’t think it’s on the Government’s agenda to let people know what’s happening in Afghanistan. Maybe they don’t want people to know how many of us get injured, or how bad the injuries are. Something like this project is just one of the best things to do to raise awareness. It’s also important that people know about organisations like Help for Heroes, Blind Veterans UK, BLESMA [British Limbless Ex-Service Men’s Association], and The Not Forgotten Association. People need to be more aware of the work these charities do, and of the funds that they need.
At the moment, I’m a personal trainer, but I’m not doing it full time. I’m looking to invest in the market: I’m learning, I’m doing a bit of research, and then I’ll invest. Hopefully, if I have kids then they’ll have a trust fund or nest egg for when they’re older. So I’m just doing my thing. I’m doing what I need to do to get my future going, and get my life back on track. I’m living, I’m still breathing.