In this month of Remembrance, Write Out Loud is giving space to poet and peace campaigner Antony Owen, who has interviewed the mother of a British paratrooper killed on active service in Afghanistan in 2008. Jeff Doherty, pictured, from Southam in Warwickshire, died in a Taliban attack in Helmand, just two days after his 20th birthday, along with Lance Corporal James Bateman, 29, from Staines, Middlesex. Two other British soldiers were injured. We at Write Out Loud sometimes feel that Remembrance commemorations quite rightly honour the dead of two world wars, but don’t always remember or recognise in quite the same way our victims from more recent conflicts. Here is Antony Owen’s interview with Jeff’s mother, Joyce Doherty:   

 

Hi Joyce, thanks for agreeing to this interview in what is not only Remembrance month but also Mental Health Awareness month. Your beloved son ‘JJ’ served in the Parachute Regiment before his death in Gereshk, Afghanistan. Tell me what being a Para meant to JJ?

When JJ was a teenager he watched the movie A Bridge Too Far and the rest is history ... He knew there and then, that was all he wanted to do. He knew the Parachute Regiment was the elite of the British Army and that is all he wanted to be. He worked very hard to achieve what he did.

 

In the days and weeks that followed Jeff’s death, how did grief affect the family unit differently?

It affected all of the family in very different ways. One sister, aged 14 at the time, went quiet and she stayed quiet. Fin went on to follow in his footsteps and in his head, do him proud, and in a way finish what his brother started. Honey [only 18 months at the time] was too young to remember him, but as I have always talked about him and worked tirelessly to remember him, I believe this has allowed her to know him a bit more. As she was growing up she was always able to ask anything she liked and now she is a little older often feels the enormity of what we all lost and what she missed out on.

Myself and Jeff [my husband] have in the background of continuing with 'life' dragged each other through. We have both had our tough times but have picked each other up over and over again, and never, ever give up! I remember thinking on the day it happened, ‘How am I going to get to tomorrow?', and I really didn't know how I was going to do that ... I still feel like this but I now know I've managed this far, I can keep going. Bringing up a grieving family is by far the hardest thing in the world.

 

You set up a charity in JJ's name which I have first-hand experience of fundraising for, and I wanted to ask how people can get involved. Tell me your favourite impacts the charity has made.

We are a small charity and we had to make a choice years ago whether to make it a business or keep it small and personal. We chose the latter. Anyone who would like to help is more than welcome and can get in touch with myself or Jeff.

We have managed to help lots of young men who have slipped through the criteria of the larger charities and felt a little hopeless. Sometimes it’s as simple as paying someone's bills for a month. That can make the biggest difference and that's why we do it. It was never, ever for the glory - it was just to make little differences in people's lives.

We have also done things like buying equipment and supplying necessities in people's homes to help them adjust to their new lives after injuries. We have also been involved in helping soldiers' children through sickness and life-changing illnesses.

 

How has the feeling of grief evolved from hearing about JJ’s death, to the grief you feel now? Has faith or spirituality helped you?

Grief never goes away. You do learn to live with it a little bit better, but it is almost as raw now as it was on the day it happened. Faith did not help us really. If anything, I was really cross with God for allowing this to happen. That's selfish, I know. But I feel so robbed of the life we should have all had. I am not ungrateful for what I have, but will always wonder, 'What if?'

 

Has Remembrance changed since all those 450-plus soldiers were killed before we left Afghanistan, to right now in 2024? Have people switched off?

Yes, unfortunately I think they have. I believe people who are unaffected directly in some way do not see the importance of it and that's sad. I work in a large company and can remember everyone wearing a poppy years ago. You would struggle to spot one now - in fact, this year I was the only person wearing one in my office.

 

What are your hopes for the PTSD of soldiers and civilians? I read recently that thousands are living on the streets and the average age in Afghanistan [of service men and women] was just 19 years old.

I just hope they can get the help and support they need and deserve. Society forgets that we sleep safe in our beds because of their bravery and sacrifice. I can't imagine ever having the bravery to do what these men and women have done / do on a daily basis. I have watched some of these young men do amazingly well despite their memories and experiences but unfortunately some of our soldiers do not have the support they need.

 

The world is very unstable at the moment, and efforts to avoid escalation have been poor. What are your hopes for our children?

I hope and pray and dread every single day that my other son will not end up somewhere just as horrific as JJ did. I am sure every other armed forces family feels the same. The world is crazy and it not becoming a better place despite everything. I would love to think there is an answer to this but honestly, I have no idea what that is.

 

What is the question you want to be asked about losing a loved one in conflict, so people can learn about this different type of grief you have to endure?

It is about remembrance. Losing a young person for any family is devastating, and no family gets over that. But I wish people would take into account that losing a loved one in conflict is slightly different, in that they are there to defend our country, and you and your children. No matter what your beliefs are, it is important to remember that sacrifice, and the trail of sadness and loss it leaves behind.

 

 

A GARGOYLE OVERLOOKS HIS CITY

by Antony Owen

 

You started flying over Sangin

from that road merchants made since Alexander

and there a devil’s jewellery of your khaki limbs.

 

You awoke stapled to a bed

your ghost legs pacing to the unlocked door

come back to bed brother the demons are rousing.

 

You whirred through Roche Abbey, Rotherham

finding kinship in eviscerated stone

once so grand now testaments of bone.

 

You hated the manicured hedges of Winthrop Gardens

it’s unnatural how we present things you said

the gargoyles waited; your demi-gods aghast.

 

 

Antony Owen has written war poetry for over 15 years and has taken many testimonies of those affected by modern conflicts. Focusing on the more overlooked aspects of PTSD, Owen has met atomic bomb survivors, forcibly displaced people and recorded many ‘child’-based testimonies recounted as mature adults. His work has been widely commended by peace activists and Nobel prize winners, including Bruce Kent,  Rebecca Johnson, and many more. The British Army Museum made Owen winner of its 2018 poetry competition for his tribute to Black nurses who served in the first world war. His numerous poetry collections include The Nagasaki Elder, shortlisted for the Ted Hughes award, The Unknown Civilian, The Battle, and Post-Atomic Glossaries: New and Selected Poems