Martyn Compton
I was deployed in 2006 to Helmand, Afghanistan, with The Household Cavalry. I was 22 when I went out there. My role was a driver or radio operative. I had mixed feelings before I deployed. Nerves played a part, but I was also excited—it’s what I had joined the Army to do, and what I’d trained so hard for. I knew I would miss my family, and I’d also met my girlfriend, now my wife, Michelle, about four months before. Knowing that I was going to be away for six months was hard.
I was injured on 1st August 2006. We were on a mission to help the Danish troops collect their rations. We came to the top of a hill that looked down on a small town. The only way through the town was via a road with high walls either side. We got in convoy and put the hatches down, as we didn’t know what the situation was like down there. As we got into the road, we were ambushed by the Taliban. They tried to take out the central wagon, which was the one I was in. We tried to reverse out of the ambush, and, as we were doing so, my wagon was hit by an IED. The three other lads that were in it were killed instantly. The enemy began shooting RPGs [rocket-propelled grenades] directly at me, from about 25 metres away – I remember seeing the guy looking over the wall and firing. The RPGs blew the wagon up and engulfed me in flames. Luckily I managed to climb out of the wagon. At this point, I was in a lot of pain, my body armour was melting into my skin, and my emotions were running high. I ran in front of the wagon to try and get some cover, as there were bullets coming down at me. As I was running, I got shot in the leg twice and I fell to the ground.
At this point, the gunner and the operative from the front wagon jumped out to see if anyone was left in my wagon. That’s when they noticed I was missing. The wagon that had been at the back of the convoy had reversed back up the hill. They saw someone who they thought was Taliban, but it was actually me trying to wave. They started firing thinking I was Taliban, but luckily the guys coming round from the front wagon saw me and the fire stopped. I was casevac’d out soon after that – my memory gets a bit patchy. I was in huge amounts of pain. I remember hearing the Chinook landing, they got me onto the Chinook. I remember a guy saying, “Stay with us, stay with us” and that was it. I died officially then. I was revived, and taken back to Bastion – although I don’t remember any of this. Apparently I died a further three times on my way back to the UK.
I was in a coma for five months while they tried to rebuild me. It was touch and go. I had 75 per cent full-thickness third-degree burns and two gunshot wounds to my right leg. I was burned pretty much down to bone. They had to rebuild what they could with the skin I had left – basically, they took skin from the good bits that were left, and tried to put it where I needed it. The only skin I had remaining was at the bottoms of my legs, so there was a limit to what they could do with it. The rest of it is integral, which is fake skin. That’s mostly what my face is made up of. The bullets took a lot of muscle out and I can’t bend my leg fully. I’ve got very little strength in my right leg, and it causes me pain all the time.
When I was in the coma, the doctors and nurses only allowed my dad and Michelle in to see me. I could have picked up infections really easily, because my body was open to fresh air. Then a few months later, they started letting other family in, but just one at a time. As soon as I woke up, my family were there. That’s how I got through things. I didn’t understand the extent of my injuries initially. The hospital staff didn’t want to show me straight away, because it was obviously going to be a big shock. I was on a lot of drugs that took the pain away, so I didn’t really know what was going on at the time.
But about three months after waking up, I wanted to go out. I think it was fireworks night. They said, “If you’re going to go out, you might see yourself, so you’re going to have to see yourself in a mirror before going out.” Michelle was with me and I looked in the mirror, and I broke down. That was the hardest thing for me. It was a strange feeling looking in that mirror. I’d just been being myself, messing about in hospital, trying to keep cheerful, and then all of a sudden I didn’t look anything like I did before. So, it was really weird. A life-changing experience. Initially, I thought, “Look at the state of me.” I felt hard done by. But then eventually I thought, “I can’t do anything about it, I’m still here and I’m the fortunate one that got out of that wagon”, so I just thank my lucky stars really. And, of course, the support from Michelle and my dad made a huge difference. When I realised I was in such a bad way, I wasn’t sure whether to stay with Michelle. I said to her, “If you want to go, then I understand because it’s a massive thing that I’ve gone through.” She said, “Don’t be stupid, you’re still you. If you change and it’s not you, I’ll leave on those terms, but you’re still you.”
I was in Broomfield Hospital, which is a specialist burns hospital in Chelmsford, for about a year and I still go back there now. The consultant and his team have done amazingly well to have rebuilt me like this. After my year there, I went straight to Headley Court for four months, where I had to learn how to walk again and build my life back up. My burns affected my ability to walk. If you’ve been lying down for as long as I was, it’s bloody difficult to stand up again. Your body loses its ability to regulate blood pressure, so when I stood up, all the blood rushed down to my legs, which was hard. The burns also made it awkward because the skin was so tight. So there were plenty of things for the physios to do. They went through a lot of work and I went through a lot of pain. Going to Headley Court definitely helped me. There were guys there who had lost limbs, so I was thankful that I still had all four of mine. Being around people who have been through similar experiences helped me massively. Marrying Michelle also helped me through. She set a date for the wedding, pretty much two years after the day of the injury, and my goal was to be walking for my wedding. That was obviously a huge thing for me, and aiming for that helped motivate me through.
In terms of how I’m affected day to day, my leg is very weak. I can’t bend it very much and I get nerve pain all the way down my leg, which causes difficulty with walking around. The burns get very tight—I need releases in my armpits and in my arms. Even after those, it’s as though you’re wearing a small suit that you’re trying to stretch. I don’t sweat where I was burnt, which is uncomfortable, especially if it’s warm. But I just cope. I don’t really know how my injuries will affect me as I grow older. I definitely won’t get any grey hair, because I haven’t got any, so that’s always a bonus. I suppose I won’t go wrinkly either. People’s responses to my facial injuries are hard, even though I’ve kind of got used to it. Michelle found it really hard. People would look at me and say things and she’d kick off with them. She’d say things like, “If you knew what had happened, you wouldn’t say anything.” I’ve lived with it for a while now, and I’ve just got on with it. Occasionally, it still grates on me and I’ll say something, but I’m pretty laid-back to be honest and don’t really worry about it.
At the moment, I’m officially still in the Army, because I’ve still got so many operations and rehab stints still to come. In the future, I’ll have to find employment somewhere. Sometimes that concerns me because I’ve been in the Army since I left school at sixteen, and it’s all I know. I went to Parliament to fight for more compensation than I was initially offered, which wasn’t enough. When I joined the Army, I obviously realised the risks, but you still expect to be looked after. Although I’ve been awarded more compensation since, you’d get four or five times the amount if you sustained the same injuries as a civilian. I’ve got to go and work to support my family and that’s obviously going to be difficult for me, but I’ve got to do it to earn a living. It’s hard for me to take a nine-to-five job due to all the medical procedures I have to have. If I’ve got an operation tomorrow and I’ve got to be in hospital for two weeks, there’s not many employers that will let you have that time off for the operations, and then a further two months for rehab. It does play on my mind a bit, but I just take it as it comes and I’ll see what comes my way.
I have two children now. It’s brilliant. It brings me to tears. It’s brilliant, I love it. It’s the best thing in the world. I’m so thankful to be here and I feel really lucky to have had children. My injuries do affect what I can do with them—obviously I can’t run down the road with them, but I just do other things. I love it, it’s great. I just make the most of what I’ve got. My experience has changed me in that respect—I don’t worry about little, trivial things. I don’t get angry about what happened, because I feel lucky to be here. The other guys I was with died in that incident. I’m still here, and I have Michelle and our kids, so I do just feel lucky to still be here.