A contemporary hero to be proud of... especially when I think of what some 19 year-olds get up to Dead British soldier George 'Sparky' Sparks relished his job – and his duty - Telegraph Dead British soldier George 'Sparky' Sparks relished his job – and his duty Chris Terrill on a man who embodied the spirit of the Royal Marines and whose funeral takes place on Saturday – on his 20th birthday. Just over two weeks ago, a young Royal Marine sniper climbed silently but purposefully onto the mud roof of a deserted house in a bullet-pocked Afghani compound. Another marine followed and together they peered over a parapet trying to get an urgent fix on Taliban positions. Eyes darting, they looked for enemy movement. Suddenly, without warning, the lethal sound of an incoming rocket was followed by an ear-splitting explosion. When the smoke cleared both marines lay still – one dead, one mortally wounded. I am at home, about to leave for the gym, when the phone rings. I really don’t have time for a telephone call, but I answer none the less. “Hello,” I say. “Chris,” replies a disembodied voice amid a deafening buzz of static and crackle. “…it’s Orlando…ringing from Afghanistan.” “Orlando!” I shout delightedly. “How are you mate…?” Orlando, a friend and Royal Marines officer, phones occasionally for a chat when he’s not on operations. I am eager to hear his news – bugger the gym! Orlando’s voice comes and goes through the hissing interference, so I am only getting every few words. “Mate… tell you… direct hit… Sparks…” “Orlando, I’m not receiving you,” I shout. “Say again…” There is a pause as he moves position to get a better signal. “Is that any better?” he asks. “Bit faint – but I can just about hear you. What was that you said?” “Mate, thought I should tell you. Georgie Sparks was killed today. Direct hit by an RPG [rocket propelled grenade.]” I open my mouth but say nothing. The news stuns me into silence. This can’t be true. “Sparky?” I stammer eventually. “But he was only 19,” I hear myself saying, as if being 19 should have made him invulnerable to enemy explosives. “I know mate, it’s f------ s---,” replies Orlando. We talk as best we can for a few minutes before the signal fails completely and we lose contact. I listen to the empty static in a trance of disbelief and tangled memories. In my mind I can hear the sound of a distant train. It is the 9.28 from Exeter coming into the platform at the Commando Training Centre at Lympstone. The date is June 17, 2006 and I am waiting on the platform for the arrival of 49 new recruits about to start 32 weeks of training to become Royal Marines Commandos – the toughest basic military training in the world. The young men about to get off the train will comprise 924 Training Troop and, although they don’t yet know it, I will be making a series of films for ITV about their progress as recruits. I swing my camera round as dozens of young men get off the train wearing civilian clothes and dragging heavy cases. They are quick to line up in front of an impatient looking corporal with a clipboard who starts to check off their names. “Lee!” “Present, corporal!” “John!” “Present, corporal!” “Williams!” “Present, corporal!” “Sparks!” “Present, corporal!” George Sparks looks more like a boy than a young man. Small, fresh faced and ill at ease, he seems out of place alongside some of his more robust, muscular and confident fellow recruits. I make a mental note of George Sparks, partly because he looks so out of place and partly, I admit, because I don’t reckon he is going to make it through the first few weeks of training. I am not alone in my misgivings about the 17-year-old from Essex. Lieutenant Orlando Rogers, the 924 Troop Commander, a man-mountain, is not convinced that George Sparks has made the right decision to come to Lympstone and is far from confident that his small frame and musculature will stand up to the very considerable physical challenges ahead. Jon Stratford, the troop’s physical training instructor, is convinced the shy and awkward teenager will fall at a very early hurdle. There is one person, however, who has great belief in George Sparks and that he is made of the right stuff, not only to win the coveted green beret and become a Royal Marines Commando, but that he will become a very fine Royal Marines Commando. That person is George Sparks himself. Over the following weeks and months, many of the original recruits in 924 Troop fall by the wayside. Some are injured as the rigours of training take their toll on bone, muscle and sinew. Otherwise, the constant demand for self-discipline and mental application defeat all but the most dedicated and able. By week 30, only six original recruits remain. One of those is George Sparks who, by stubborn single-mindedness, strength of mind and firmness of purpose has passed every test necessary and risen to every challenge. But he is not out of the woods yet – far from it. He, like all recruits, must run the famous “Commando Tests” – four final trials of strength and courage – that have to be passed to win the green beret and pass out as a commando. Once again, Sparky has to dig deep. The first three tests – the seven-mile endurance run in full fighting order, the nine-mile speed march and the Tarzan assault course – are all a taste of hell but Sparky pulls through. There remains the final test – a 30-mile run over Dartmoor carrying 40lb. On paper, the “30 Miler” is a virtual impossibility. At the 20-mile stage everyone is convinced Sparky will collapse with exhaustion and plummeting blood sugar levels, but he summons inner strength and manages, with the help of six Mars bars, to keep his arms and legs pumping long enough to cross the line to claim his green beret. There is no drama, no bragging, no boasting, just a gentle smile and a determination to get on with the job. We are all incredibly proud of Sparky, not least those that doubted him – people like Orlando Rogers, his troop commander, Jon Stratford, his PTI, and me, by now a friend. A week later, Sparky’s parents, Wayne and Toni, and his sister Katie, are at Lympstone to see him awarded his green beret at the passing-out parade, as well as the Commando Medal awarded to the recruit who best exhibits the commando qualities of courage, determination, unselfishness and cheerfulness in the face of adversity – an award voted for by fellow recruits. Then, Wayne, Toni and Katie watch Sparky and the rest of 924 Troop receive their final orders at the Commando Training Centre – “Royal Marines to your duties, quick march!” I was not with Sparky and his fellow marines when they deployed to Afghanistan in September, but I can well imagine how he felt. I have been alongside other Royal Marines fighting for their lives in that war-ravaged country and know how the adrenaline pumps through the veins when advancing into enemy territory. I know the smell of fear that fills the nostrils when the enemy attacks. But most of all I know the feeling of intense togetherness, of brotherhood, that binds marines when facing a common foe. Back in 2006, as part of my filming, I joined a troop of Royal Marines at Kajaki – a place as desolate as it is remote. There, I ventured out with the troop as they took on the enemy in ferocious fire-fights. I saw Royal Marines Commandos in front-line action, doing their duty, exhibiting jaw-dropping bravery, killing – because that is their trade – and, inevitably, being killed. Barely 20 months since passing out, Sparky is dead – killed, alongside fellow marine Tony Evans, north-west of Lashkar Gar in southern Afghanistan. They were the 127th and 128th British soldiers to die in this still escalating conflict. So, was Sparky’s death in vain? And Tony’s, too? Are all the deaths and horrific injuries sustained by our troops in vain? Some would have it so. Sometimes, I confess, I think so myself. But I can tell you this. Sparky would not have thought so. In his understated and modest way he would have argued the toss with anyone who even hinted at such an idea. It is not that he would have had any great opinions about the need to confront global terrorism or even the promotion of democracy in places like Afghanistan. Sparky was doing what he was trained to do, but more than anything else he was there to protect and defend his comrades. As a specialist sniper, he was watching out for other Royal Marines when he was killed. Protecting his mates. He would not have had it any other way. He relished his job just as he relished his duty but, above all, he valued the bond between marines. Knowing that any marine would die for him, he would not have questioned the need, if it arose, to die for them. That need did arise and Sparky answered the call. It’s not a hero thing. It’s just a soldier thing, a Royal Marine thing or, in this case, a Georgie Sparks thing. 924 Troop disbanded the day the recruits passed out, but now, as I write, it is reforming. I don’t mean in a physical way but an emotional way. Spiritual even. Former members, including some who never made it through training, are contacting each other: phoning, emailing, Facebooking – just to talk about Sparky. It is a way for everyone to keep his candle burning: by remembering him and celebrating the sort of bloke he was. We will all be at his funeral tomorrow on what would have been his 20th birthday. And we will remind ourselves that Sparky will never grow old. He will always be nearly 20. Forever.
I'm reading this - just after reading that four British Royal Marines have been killed in two separate explosions in southern Afghanistan BBC NEWS | UK | Four killed in Afghanistan blasts War is a terrible thing .... it's sickening to hear of these young men going away and never coming home ! My heart goes out to the parents and families !
RIP Sparky, and the others. Their memories are a bit tarnished by the fact that Brown is out there, and made the usual pompous remarks
