Interview Extract - Major Nicholas Ofield, Sultan's Armed Forces

Q: Were there any particular hazards working in this type of terrain?

A: Well apart from people trying to kill you there were other unpleasant things like Camel Spiders, a few snakes, Scorpions, the heat, dehydration. Having to carry an awful lot of water. A great diurnal change in temperature. It could get up to 45° in the daytime and dropped to 5° or 6° at night. You were generally very physically debilitated. Jebel sores, which were an infection rather like jungle sores, developed and wouldn't clear. I had my forefinger and thumb - you could actually see the bone through the rottenness and the puss. The only treatment they could give was to bathe it three times a day, for an hour in potassium permanganate solution. What the doctor was unable to tell me was A) how I got three spare hours a day to bathe my hand B) where I got container and C) where I got potassium permanganate solution from.

Q: How did you adapt to the extreme heat?

A: It was a matter of common sense. You have to remember that the British Army has a lot of experience in hot climates. From being in India for years and years, to the North African desert during World War II, and afterwards in the Gulf. It's just a matter of essentially drinking when you feel thirsty, but remembering that you've only got a certain amount of water which is what you carry. We never followed this modern trend that seems to be "I must get hydrated" and ordering people to drink on the spot. We never found that necessary. We also took plenty of salt with our meals - as much as we could. 

You would carry your parka with you to wear at night. So sometimes you would move out at night time in your shirtsleeves, you would stop put on your jacket, your sweater, wrap scarf around you, then just after dawn you have to take it all off again because it was getting very hot. When you woke up in the morning you turned your boots upside down and banged them together just to make sure there weren't any Camel Spiders or Scorpions inside them, and before you went to bed at night you shook out your sleeping bag to make sure you didn't have any visitors.

Alistair

Just a small announcement. Joining the team. Okay team is a strong word. Joining me for phase two of filming is director of photography, and my good friend, Alistair Little. A graduate with a 1st in Cinematography from Stafford University and an RTS award under his belt - I'm over joyed he's agreed to continue our creative love affair by deciding to work with me yet again.


Here are a few examples of his work 

Looking For Nick

Who IS Nick Downie? More to the point WHERE is Nick Downie? I never thought I would make a very good private dectetive. When we have to find someone we never normally have to look beyond the hozizon of Facebook or Twitter.


Nick Downie, former SAS trooper turned war cameraman. Some of the nastiest fighting was documented by this chap throughout the 70's, 80's and 90's. His training allowed him to get closer than most would dare.


During the Dhofar War there were only two ways into the country. Both were tightly controlled.
If a journalist got off a plane they were simply put back on and sent home. Therefore, pictures and footage are prised! For the whole conflict (approx 1964-76) there is only 1 news article, to my knowledge in existence. A Sunday supplement in the Telegraph. 

Now if anyone reading this knows any better - then please point me in the right direction.


Mr Downie, supposedly smuggled an 8mm camera into the country with him. There is other 8mm footage from the Oman conflict, but very little of it is frontline stuff, and that's what I'm hoping for. Nick has made a few documentaries on the conflict in Rhodesia, the northern part of later became Zambia, where I lived in for several years as a boy. There are many accounts of him over the web but, for now, his whereabouts remain a mystery.  


With the help of Twitter a chap by the name of Nick Long, a Producer at Turtle Canyon Media has joined in the search, and I'd like to thank him publicly for all his help so far.

SAF Meal

Spent Friday evening at the Sultan of Oman's Armed Forces Association Dinner. A very enjoyable event at the Army and Navy Club in London. The average age was about 80, and it was funny to look at my Dad and see him feeling young in the company.

Managed to set up the next round of interview for Jan/Feb and have come away with loads of extra research, contacts to make, and books to read. 

My heart sunk when talking to chaps, who even at their age are still involved in places like Afghanistan, telling me that when troops are killed they cannot look the family in the eye because they don't believe the sons/daughters/husbands/wives are dying for anything.  

One of the most interesting conversations came later in the evening. When Dad remarked [persons name] now that's a killer! Blew my mind. I mean what characteristics are required to be singled out as "the killer" in a room full of killers. How do you look a a room full of soldiers - all of whom kill for a living and say "him, he's a real killer." What trait singles that person out? Never really did get a satisfactory answer. 

The total delight of the evening came when somebody turned to the old man and said "Nick do you remember when....[details omitted] and proceeded to tell a story I had heard many, many times.  Growing up with Oman stories have been a constant delight and I have never tired of hearing them, but over the years you do begin to wonder how true all the elements are. Did it happen exactly that way etc... Not through any form of lying. But perhaps an enthusiastic embellishment or a fading recollection. Memory can change the shape of a room, the colour of a car, the order of events. To hear someone, unprompted,  and without realising, confirm what you had always believed is a truly wonderful thing. 

I am making this documentary because there are stories to tell, and those stories are true.

Phase 2

Phase two of filming started today with a visit to the National Memorial Centre near Litchfield. A vast area of ground set aside to remember people who have given their lives in service; be that in the forces the Police, Fire Service, etc.

Tucked away towards the outskirts is a small little memorial to those who fell during the Dhofar Campaign. We laid a wreath from us and a Poppy for the relative of a Flight Lieutenant  who was unable to make it to the memorial herself.

The spectacle, if spectacle is the right word, is the hugh memorial erected for all those who have fallen in combat since the end of World War Two. It was shocking to me how many people have been killed since then. More haunting however is the outer side of the walls are left blank...for those who have yet to be killed. That thought left me with a chill.

Together we found several names of British soldiers, and pilots who died in the Dhofar Campaign.

Campbell MRA

Taylor TEF

Ramsden DER

Labalabat BEM

Tobin TPA

Wright PR

Drybanski MJ

Handyside BG
Loid C 

The site is beautiful, and a tribute worthy to those who gave their lives in service. 

If you haven't already donated - please buy a Poppy. It helps not only service men and women who are injured but also their families. 

You can donate quickly and easily by following this link.

Poppy Appeal

"When You Go Home,

 Tell Them Of Us And Say,

 For Their Tomorrow,

 We Gave Our Today"

Last Day

Been treated like Royalty at SAF TR (Sultan's Armed Forces Training Regiment)Dad very happy. Got introduced to the General in charge of the base. Had coffee and dates. Then got taken on a leisurely tour around by the 2IC Colonol Kalid a Jobali. Very nice chap, has 10 children. Went to his house for lunch and tea. Kept saying he wasn't prepared for us because he thought we were coming tomorrow. Christ thank god we caught him unaware otherwise we'd have been even more stuffed. They gave Dad a glass plack of the regimental crest. He was touched. While walking round the base dad commented on the place settings in the officer's mess. Knowing that the old man wanted one but wouldnt asked - I did (counting on Arab/Omani hospitality). The Colonel sorted me out a coaster and a table mat. Result. 


This is to be the last day of shooting. For me this trip marks the end of an era. It took me a long time to realise that the adventures I'd been having all my life weren't mine. Not truly. I was a passenger in my father's adventures. Things have come full circle. In away Oman is where it all started for both of us. Now I have to go out and make my own adventure. Although I guess one of the great things about being a documentary film maker is you get to piggyback on other people's adventures.

Over the coming year I will be interviewing more veterans. Dealing  with story threads as they twist and pull on one another, writing and recording narration, shooting re-enactments,discussing title changes, picking music, and finding out more about the war in Dhofar. I can't think of anything more perfect.








*****Captain's announcement while on the flight home*****
Excuse me ladies and gentlemen but we may experience some minor turbulence over Iran" (is that supposed to be a f***ing joke)

Day 15

Ran out of gas last night. Milk off. That was the last night outside. It's all hotel sleeping from here! Had a good night sleeping out despite the lack of a decent cup of tea. Only needed to get half way into my sleeping it was so warm. Woke with a start and just in time to see Dad roll out of bed towards me. Laughed my arse off. Seemed little point in going back to sleep so used the early morning sunlight to shoot cutaways of all the old rounds of ammo and shrapnel we've collected. 

Heading back to Muscat. Walking through a shopping centre covered in dust, dirt and smelling f***ing awful hardly seems right. Tis amusing though. Keep getting very odd looks. Got out the desert without a map but can't find my way out of this bloody shopping centre. 

Sharing taxis is an odd experience. Not as in we're going the same way - would you like to share a taxi? You order a taxi somewhere, it arrives you open the door and there's already someone else in there and it's like - who the f*** is this? Oh we're sharing? Yes are we going the same way? No. Oh okay then.