One of the few noticeable differences between serving on operations and living in Basingstoke is indirect fire.

This not entirely cordial offering is where munitions are fired at long distance by people who are not your largest fans, and they hope that the round will cause some damage on impact.

I wish that, for the moment at least, Sir John Betjeman had a greater following in this region and that they fired their ‘friendly bombs’ in the direction the former Poet Laureate famously requested.

Indirect fire has existed for time immemorial, Longbow, ballista, etc. It is a strange phenomenon, as there is little that can be done about it, and one that is becoming more agreeably infrequent. It has occurred to me that there may be some who read this who, if pressed to answer why we (the military) are here in Afghanistan, would not be able to offer an accurate explanation. So I thought I could do worse than offer some enlightenment. For the purposes of the next few paragraphs dear readers, you shall play the part of the Corinthians, and I, modestly, shall pick-up the baton of St. Paul.

‘We are in Afghanistan to safeguard our own national security. A more stable and secure Afghanistan and Pakistan will help ensure a safer Britain and world.’ This may seem, at first glance, a rather nebulous and equivocal statement. But after deliberating, one would hope you will see it as a lucid and concise rationale, unless, you have the misfortune to be record-breakingly obtuse.

The question is how and why? Simply, prior to the deposition of the Taleban regime, the area was something of a haven for insurgent organisations. In fact it pretty much gave free full-board and lodging, with fresh bed-linens every Wednesday, fish and chips on Friday evening, and in some cases even a vegetarian option, to anyone holding whatever the insurgent equivalent of an equity card is. The second action required to achieve success is to deny a return of those same insurgent organisations that exploit ungoverned space as areas from which to operate. And it is at this juncture which we find ourselves.

There are many famous arguments in regards to labelling a movement, or group as a terrorist organisation. Well-trodden anecdotage recites; Washington, Castro, William Wallace et al. Peter Ustinov put the ‘depends on perception/side of the fence’ viewpoint neatly; ‘Terrorism is the war of the poor, war is the terrorism of the rich.’ As I have stated before, I am no historian or scholar, and am no better to issue judgement on these arguments than anyone else. The dichotomy espoused in Manichean dogma can seldom exist in so clearly defined poles in such a fractious environment as this. The nomenclature of the dramatis personae is largely insignificant. What matters is what is best for the people, the society and by extension, the global community. What of the people of Afghanistan? I shall peddle a few statistics. In 2001 there were 1 million children in schooling, all of whom were boys. There are now 6.6 million, and pleasingly 35 per cent of them are girls. Health services now reach over 85 per cent of the population compared with just 9 per cent eight years ago and child immunisation programmes are saving 35,000 lives per year. 4.8 million Refugees have been able to return to their country.

By putting the population and society first, all can benefit. I think that indicates progress.

During quiet moments this week I have reread some of the sunlit perfection that is P.G. Wodehouse.

‘It was my uncle George who discovered well in advance of modern medical thought that alcohol was a food.’ I am getting hunger pains.

Probably the single largest boost to morale is the post. When a sack of parcels and letters arrives, there is a definite degree of Christmas-like anticipation. And when a parcel is pulled out of the bag with one’s name upon, eyes light-up like a five year old getting a bicycle (or what ever five year-olds get now, mobile phones? Ear-piercings tattoos?).

There is one fundamental difference with this ritual and the gift-based-frenzy that celebrates the birth of Christ, viz - not everyone has a parcel to unwrap. The anticipation followed by anti-climax can be gut-wrenching, especially if you know loved-ones mailed something a fortnight prior. Those that have sent me little bits, or more, (thank you darling); deserve my gratitude many times over. Also a thank you to those whose task it is to do unglamorous jobs such as sort the post, life would be borderline unbearable without them.