Christmas truce? No chance ... but even the Taliban can't stop us having our turkey dinner

Frontline: Sergeant Robinson with fellow troops near Musa Qala

By Sergeant Steven Robinson 2nd Battalion, Yorkshire Regiment
Last updated at 11:08 PM on 25th December 2009

WHEN I was growing up, I remember hearing stories about Christmas Day in the First World War trenches.

I was told that the guns magically fell silent, the British and German soldiers sang carols to each other and then both sides climbed out and had a game of football in No Man's Land.

Christmas Day in Helmand Province isn't quite like that.

Festive treat: troops from Sergeant Robinson's Yorkshire Regiment company tuck into their Christmas dinner near Musa Qala

The Taliban don't take time off, so neither can we. Which meant that yesterday was very much business as usual from the moment we poked our noses out of our winter sleeping bags in yet another freezing Afghan dawn.

I've been in the Army 15 years. This is my second tour of Afghanistan and my second Christmas away out of the last three. And if I've learned one thing, it is that while it may be tough for us out here, it's a whole lot harder for those we've left behind.

Our wives and children are all too aware of the empty seat at the dinner table. But for us, it's pretty much just another day at the office. And while I never quite forget what's going on at home, I try to push it to the back of my mind.

I'd have given anything to have been with my four children this Christmas time, particularly my youngest son, Cavan, who is only seven months old. His first Christmas and I missed it.

Based near Musa Qala in the north of Helmand, we're only about two kilometres from what we call the FLET or Forward Line Enemy Troops. It's somewhere you need to be vigilant at all times.

So while you were snug in your beds, we were leaving our small, dirt-walled, canvas-roofed compound and setting out on patrol.

We had a successful day clearing compounds - including one being used to manufacture IEDs, the improvised explosive devices that have claimed the lives of far too many British soldiers. As we destroyed the bomb-making equipment, it felt good to know that it would never be used.

But on our way back to base, one of the vehicles was hit by an IED. Thankfully, nobody was hurt but it was still a nasty moment - all your instincts tell you to rush to help your mates but you've first got to establish that you're not walking into an ambush or trap. Fortunately, we all made it back safely.

When the day's serious work was done I really started thinking about home - wondering what my wife, Leanne, was up to and how the kids - Ashley, who's 13, the twins, Sam and Declan, who are nine, and little Cavan - are behaving. I miss them all every day. But I especially missed them yesterday.

Part of the problem is that we're only a very small group of British troops here - eight of us from the 2nd Battalion, Yorkshire Regiment and a couple of guys attached from the Royal Horse Artillery - so our distractions are pretty limited.

We've got an X-box, a few DVDs and a 2ft Christmas tree in the Ops room. There are Christmas cards and Advent calendars dotted about the place, along with a few red British soldier and his turkey dinner. And while it wasn't the best I've ever had, it wasn't the worst either, largely thanks to the fact that one of the boys is a really good cook. I have to say it made a welcome change from the boil-in-the-bag curries we live off most of the time!

I read somewhere that British soldiers in the First World War had beer, wine and even rum with their Christmas dinner but no such luck here - it's an alcohol-free zone.

I was especially pleased when it was my turn to use the sat-phone to call home. Normally, we get 30 minutes phone time a week but during the Christmas period, we get an extra hour.

Chatting to Leanne and the kids served as a poignant reminder of everything I was missing. Still, I've always maintained that a sobbing mess at the end of a crackling phone line is no use to anyone, let alone the people I love - so that's not what they get.

As part of the Operational Mentor and Liaison Team, our job is to help turn the Afghan National Army into good enough troops to take on their country's protection and future security themselves, which will enable us Brits - and all the other members of the International Security Assistance Force - to go home.

The good news is that the approach is working and the ANA troops are infinitely better soldiers than they were when I was last out here two years ago. Less encouraging is the fact that there's still a way to go. Which is why I'm still here.

I think I speak for everyone when I say that we're hoping next Christmas will be a very different story. I hope to be tucking up safe and warm after a day at home with the whole family - instead of pulling on umpteen layers of thermals before wriggling into my army-issue sleeping bag ...

Pictures: Major Paul Smyth