Marine
Joe Townsend
I was deployed with 40 Commando, Royal Marines, to Afghanistan, where our role was to patrol the local areas as a ground force and a ground presence. I was about five and a half months into the tour when I was injured, on 8th February 2008. We’d been out on a routine early-morning patrol around the local area, and we were returning back to our Forward Operating Base at 8am. We were walking through ploughed fields, about 800 metres outside our base, when I stepped on an IED. I remember there was a huge bang, a huge plume of smoke, and I was halfway up in the air thinking, “This is a really surreal situation, what’s happening?” and then I hit the floor and thought, “Shit, a bomb’s gone off.”
Then I realised it was me that had been hit. I landed in the sitting position and my rucksack was propping me up. I looked down, and could see that one of my legs was really badly damaged and hanging off, and the other one was missing. I tried to reach into my medical pack to get my tourniquets out and start administering first aid to myself. I was struggling, all I remember was trying to get this pouch out, but I had shattered my elbow so didn’t have any grip function in my hands.
What probably seemed like a lifetime was only a few seconds, as then the troop medic at the back of the Section and all the rest of the lads gathered around me. My initial reaction was shock—there wasn’t any pain, to be honest. I wanted to remain cheerful for the rest of the lads who had to deal with me, to try and make their job a little bit easier, so I stayed composed and told a few jokes and waited for the helicopter with both my legs and my arm tourniquet’d. I remained conscious on the ground with the lads, and I remember getting on the stretcher, getting into the back of the helicopter and speaking to the doctor. I remember saying that I wasn’t in too much pain and he then told me that he was going to sedate me, just to make it easier for them to look after me. My next memory is waking up in Selly Oak Hospital about six days later. When I came round, I didn’t realise it had been six days, I didn’t realise I was back in the UK—I thought I was still in Afghanistan. The first people I saw were my dad and my little brother, and the first words that I said to them were, “What the fuck are you two doing out here?” Then they explained that I was back in Selly Oak Hospital.
At this point I knew I’d lost at least one of my legs, but wasn’t hundred per cent sure on the extent of the damage. The surgeons told me that my right leg had been amputated above the knee, and my left leg below the knee. Although, after this, I had numerous operations which kept seeing the left amputation get higher and higher until it finished just below my hip.
I was nineteen when I got hit and my little brother was sixteen or seventeen. I know from speaking to my family now that they took it really hard. For the first six weeks of me being in hospital, I was rushed into theatre numerous times in the middle of the night, because I was dying basically. So they were sat at home or in a hotel near the hospital, just waiting for bad news. This was a really tough time for them but they stayed strong for me and tried to make everything look positive, but for six weeks it really was touch and go.
This was partly because of the loss of my limbs, and the other damage I’d sustained, but also because I had a really severe infection. The Taliban are renowned for packing their mines with faeces, nails, nuts and bolts. A lot of times, a mine would be planted near to an irrigation ditch, which is very, very dirty, full of lots of nasty bacteria. So that’s one of the other struggles that the lads have to face when being struck by an IED—overcoming the infections as well as the obvious injuries. The infection is what led to my leg being chopped higher and higher, as the doctors struggled to get rid of it. The worst part of it all was the pain. The doctors just could not get on top of it for six weeks or so. It was awful for my mother, who day in, day out, was sat at my bedside. She could do no more than that for me, but for her to watch her son in constant pain like that… I can’t imagine.
Initially I spent five and a half months bed-bound in Birmingham hospital. I only got out of bed a couple of weeks before I was due to leave. My family were based down in Eastbourne, but my mum stayed up there for the whole time that I was in hospital. That obviously put a lot of strain on her and the rest of the family, who were having to cope and keep everything going back at home.
My goal was to get out and get to Headley Court. I’d spoken to guys who had been injured before me, and were further along the rehabilitation pathway. It was like stepping stones: first you have hospital, then you have Headley Court, and then you go back home. Obviously, you know that there’ll be readmissions to Headley Court for more rehab, but it’s all progress. You’re just trying to get your life back together with the ultimate goal of getting up on prosthetic legs and walking again. You just want to be fit and healthy and happy.
My first admission at Headley was probably for about six weeks, but I was there pretty much full time for three years: on and off for admissions, and then back home for a bit of a break before going back in. I still go back there to get new prosthetic legs fitted, but as far as rehabilitation goes, I’ve pretty much reached a pinnacle now. There are still plenty of things out there I struggle with, but you adapt and find a way to overcome it. I do sometimes get frustrated. Stairs without handrails can be awkward, trying to carry things if I’m using my stick, walking through crowded places—they’re frustrating but it’s one of those things that’s part and parcel of what’s happened, you’ve just got to accept it and get on with it.
At around two years after my injuries happened, I reached a bit of a low point. I put on a lot of weight, I used to drink a lot with my friends, not to numb the pain or anything, but just socially. I was bored, I didn’t have anything. Then I saw a photo of myself one day and I was basically a big fat blob. I was really disgusted with myself, and I thought to myself, “You were a Royal Marine Commando. Before you were injured, you were at the peak of physical fitness and you need to be there again.” So I decided to cut out drinking, be careful with what I was eating, and get back into the gym and get fit again.
Then, after a few months of that, I tried a few adaptive sports. I found I was getting quite good at some of them, especially the hand cycling and wheelchair racing, so I kept pushing at those and getting better at those. In January 2011, one of the exercise rehabilitation instructors from Headley Court came up to me and said, “I’ve got this idea of Team True Spirit, we’re going to be a team of injured servicemen and compete in mad endurance events to raise money and raise awareness. Do you fancy a go at competing in an Iron Man?” So I thought, “Why not? Let’s give it a go.”
My first Iron Man was July 2011. The Iron Man is an ultra-distance triathlon, composed of a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride and then a marathon. I did the cycle on a hand-cranked bike, and the marathon in a racing wheelchair. So 140-odd miles of arms, that’s quite an effort. I compete in triathlons for Great Britain now. I compete over sprint distances, so the training is a lot more intense than Iron Man training but the distance, the time on the bike, isn’t the same. I train twice a day, normally two to three hours a day, in and around university work. It’s pretty full on, especially when you’re trying to compete at world level. The competition is pretty tough.
My main goal now is to represent my country once again in Rio 2016 and hopefully stand on a podium in the first para triathlon event. I’ve got the best part of three years until the event now. I’ve just got to keep training hard, putting the hours in each week, and if progress keeps going the way it is, hopefully I’ll be there. Royal Marines are renowned for being some of the fittest soldiers in the world. And I was fit, especially as I passed out of Commando training centre and was deployed to Afghanistan, but now I’m on a different level, competing at world standard. There’s no way I could have done it back then. I’d like to stay with the Military as an elite sports person, to be able to compete and represent the Royal Marines. It’s great publicity and shows people what can be done after injury.
I’m also studying a Strength and Conditioning Science degree at St Mary’s University in Twickenham. My main aim is to become qualified as a Strength and Conditioning coach, to get more disabled people into sport—particularly elite sport. To train the next level of potential Paralympians would be great. Although I’ve learned a lot from other people, a lot of my training I’ve had to adapt and find a way to do it myself. So, if I can pass on that knowledge to somebody else and help get them into sport, help make their life better and easier, that would be a great accomplishment.
Since I was injured five years ago, the profile of disability and injured service personnel has grown massively. Unfortunately a lot of that’s down to the growing number of guys and girls coming back from Afghanistan with life-changing injuries, but the progress made by charities and the awareness on the television has really helped to educate the general public. And the 2012 Olympic and Paralympic games have really put what you can do with a disability in the limelight. Before, I’d walk down the street and I’d notice people looking at me, but it’s pretty much an everyday occurrence to see someone injured now—I’d say the majority of people know someone who has a connection with the Armed Forces, and has maybe suffered a life-changing injury. So, I think public knowledge and awareness of disabled service men and disabled people in general have improved.
I think my family find it hard to believe, as I do, how far I’ve come. I’ve gone from being a frail, injured little boy in hospital to a strong endurance athlete who’s competed in some of the toughest endurance events in the world, ones which able- bodied people struggle to do. I suppose I’ve got that typical Royal Marines grip where you need to keep pushing yourself and finding new challenges, and once you’ve completed something, you need to find something harder and just keep driving yourself. And it’s a way of me saying thank you to my family for being there while I was really weak and struggling and really needing them. It’s a way of proving to them that I’ve overcome this injury and that there are new things I can do.