Corporal
Ricky Fergusson
I served in Afghanistan with 4 Rifles. I was deployed in October 2009, to a town called Sangin. We were there to help the Afghans socialise, and to bring the Afghan nationals to us so we could support them. I’m unaware what exactly happened on the day I was injured, which was 13th January 2010. We were occupying a compound for Taliban overwatch and we were informed that they had been in and around the area. That night, we received the order on the radio to stand down the overwatch position, so I got all my blokes together and we left through a doorway. It had already been cleared several times: as far as we were aware it was an IED-free zone. Unfortunately I stepped on one, which gave me massive injuries. I don’t remember anything, due to the facial injuries I received.
The lads treated me as best they could. They applied tourniquets to both my legs to stop the bleeding. Then the medic arrived on a quad with a trailer. They pulled me on the back of the quad and whizzed me back to the control base, to wait for the helicopter to come and collect me. The next thing that I remember was being in the hospital at Selly Oak in Birmingham. I had been in intensive care for just short of five weeks and I don’t remember anything.
When I came round, I felt like I was on a different planet because of all the pain medication I was on. I remember waking up, and my mum was at my side, and I was obviously in a hospital ward. I realised at that point that I had no legs. But I wasn’t aware when I woke up that I had facial damage. I could feel that I had straps on my face, but that was about it. I was bedridden so I couldn’t get out of bed to go to the toilet or look in the mirror.
Eventually, a couple of days later, I asked the doctor for a mirror so I could have a look. I was shocked when I looked in the mirror and saw my face. I didn’t want to look at it again for two weeks because it was so bad, a lot worse than it is now—what the doctors have done is incredible. Determination made me come to terms with it. You have two choices: sit in a wheelchair and be miserable, or carry on with your rehab as quickly as you can, get your legs and live your life the way you want to live it. To me, nothing should stop you from living your life.
I was in Selly Oak for just short of five months. From there, I had the choice of going home for a bit or going straight to Headley Court, and all I wanted was to get to Headley. They transported me directly there and I was straight into five weeks of rehab. You have a lot of gym appointments to get yourself strong again, as your body has grown weak from sitting in the hospital and being injured. You have physiotherapy to stretch out any of your tired muscles for walking, and they can also treat you for any cuts or scars.
Once your body is more stable, the next thing is prosthetics. Initially you learn to walk again on short prosthetics, called ‘Stubbies’, which make you about three feet tall. It’s hard going, but the more you walk, the more you push it, the quicker and better you’ll be.
There’s also something called phantom pains to deal with, where you think you have an itchy foot so you’ll go to scratch it and realise that you don’t have a foot. It’s a weird feeling, you have to just laugh it off, but I very rarely get it now.
I’ve still got a few operations to go, a few more minor touch-ups to my face—there’s not too much more they can do now. I’m completely missing my left eye, and there’s a problem with the socket, but until they know what it is, they won’t operate. Hopefully as soon as that’s fixed I’ll get a fake eye. I also want to reduce my cheek a bit more so it all blends in. I’ve lost my two front teeth—I’m waiting for my face to be finished and then I’ll get a full set like I need to, but to be honest I forget that they’re missing until I look at a photo!
I think people regard me differently now. I think facial injuries are a big problem because people judge you because of the way you look. They probably don’t mean to judge you, but some people are wary towards you and don’t know what to say. Or, on the flip side, people get emotional. I’ve had people cry on me because they’re upset with what’s happened to me. I’m not into all that crying business, so I just say, “Listen it’s fine, it happened to me, not you, leave it.” I do worry that my facial injuries might restrict me in certain circumstances. If I were to go for a job interview, I might have less of a chance of getting the job due to the way I look. So, in one way or another, some people treat you differently but I know that my close friends and family treat me the way I want to be treated.
I’ve received a few medals: general service medals for Afghanistan, Iraq and Northern Ireland as well as the Military Cross. When I got told I was getting awarded the Military Cross, I couldn’t believe it—I thought you had to do something crazy and amazing in Afghanistan to receive a Military Cross. I’m so thankful I was awarded it. I received it for life saving in Afghanistan: I went to rescue colleagues who’d been injured by IEDs on four occasions. But at the end of the day, if someone’s injured, I’m going to do everything I can to support him and keep him alive. And it wasn’t just me who carried out the emergency treatment—everything I did, I did as part of my team. I went to Buckingham Palace with my three guests: my mum, my dad and my sister. There were 91 people getting medals that day, there was only eight Military, all the rest were civilians. The Queen, of all people, gave me the medal. I marched up to her, shook her hand and she put the medal on. She said what a brave a soldier I was. I just said, “Thank you, but all I’ve done is my job.” We shook hands and I stepped back, made a bow and then left. Outside Buckingham Palace, there was so much press. Everybody wanted to interview and film me. It was a great experience to get the award, to go to Buckingham Palace, and meet the Queen.
I’ve always had an open mind and I always used to say, “You never know when your last day is, so live your life as it comes.” That’s kind of my motto now. Thankfully, I’m still here due to first aid on the ground from the lads and the treatment I received in hospital. I realise that a couple of seconds’ difference could have meant that I wouldn’t be here now. So live your life exactly the way you want to now, don’t worry about the outcomes. Don’t live in the future and think, “What if this happens in twenty years’ time?” No, live today: it’s the best way to live.