Private
Karl Hinett
I was deployed to Iraq in 2005 with The Staffordshire Regiment, which is now part of the Mercian Regiment. On 19th September 2005, our job for the day was to be part of a unit called a Quick Reaction Force in Basra. If anything happened, we could be there within five minutes to give support. We got a call saying that two of our Special Forces guys had been taken prisoner in one of the local police stations, and they were going to get handed over to the local militia. So we went out there in the Warriors to support the ground troops and the Special Forces. Our role was to keep the crowd around the police building under control.
The mood was pretty tense, and the more news that got out about what was going on, the bigger the crowds became. Initially, it was a bit of a crowd gathering just to see what was happening, but then things got increasingly hostile. As the day wore on, the crowd became more and more confident. They were getting closer to the Warriors, they were feeling less intimidated. Then, they began throwing things at us—initially rocks and little bits of debris, but then they began throwing petrol and lighting things on fire.
Our tank sights had been shattered, and it was really difficult to navigate. We had to open our turret hatches just so we could see. Then, I felt myself get doused in petrol and a second later I was up in flames. At first, I was overcome with panic. I had never been set on fire before, so it was kind of hard to understand what to do. But as soon as I got a hold of myself, I realised I had to get out of the Warrior. One of the reasons my hands are so badly damaged is because I had to grip on to the searing metal to pull myself out. As soon as I got out and fresh air hit me, I momentarily blacked out. I rolled off the Warrior and onto the floor, where my comrades came round, extinguished me and casevac’d me back to a waiting ambulance.
It was only when I was into the ambulance that I really felt the pain. A lot of my clothes were burnt off and I could see what had happened to my chest and my hands, and that was when the pain really came. I remember there was a smell like cooked meat. It’s a bit difficult to explain. As soon as I was taken to the field hospital in Basra, I was sedated. I woke up again ten days later in Selly Oak Hospital in Birmingham. I had 37 per cent third-degree burns at full thickness. A lot of areas were really badly damaged, particularly my hands, and my face was pretty heavily burnt as well. I had to have skin grafts on my nose, my forehead and my cheek. My arms and the inside of my thighs needed skin grafts too.
I had a lot of surgery while I was in an induced coma, but over the weeks and months and years after that, I kept needing reconstructive surgery, especially to my hands and a few times to my face. The scars constrict where they’ve healed and need reopening again. I don’t actually know how many operations I’ve had. I know it’s around fifteen or sixteen, but I can’t say for sure. They can be very painful.
Surprisingly, what hurts the most is not the area of surgery but the site where the skin graft comes from. I’ve always found that’s what hurts the most.
Before I was burnt and injured and scarred, I had no tattoos at all. So I figured, why not try something new? I had ‘unscarred’ written, initially because I found it ironic that a tattoo is really a scar itself. But it also fits because I’ve never needed any counselling—I’ve always thought that, physically, I am scarred, but mentally nothing’s changed. I never have flashbacks, though I do think about that day all the time. One of the biggest reasons why I don’t mind looking back on it is that I can rest knowing that it was only really me who got injured, none of my friends were seriously hurt.
I’ve channelled a lot of my experiences into physical challenges. At first, as everything seized up, it was hard to move around. With the scarring on my legs, I couldn’t walk for nearly a month. But then it became easier to walk and run. One of the biggest obstacles was my skin breathing and sweating when I was doing exercise and it was really aggravating at first. Almost enough to put me off altogether, but it was just something to overcome. And now I can sweat and move as easily as anyone else.
I was offered a job to stay in the Army. But although I loved being an Infantryman, I thought I would be more of a burden than a benefit returning to that role. The last thing I would want is to endanger anyone else. I decided to leave on a high note and move on to something new. I love heading off to different places—there are volunteer projects all over the world that I have got involved with. And, because all my surgeries are finished now, I am going to run a marathon every weekend this year to pay back all the hospitals, the doctors and nurses. It’s just a way to say thank you.