War hero's crowning glory

CAPTAIN Courageous, European Hero . . . the accolades aimed at Gulf War II veteran Captain James Moulton in the last few weeks have come thicker and faster than Iraqi sniper fire.

And the 27-year-old Irish Guardsman from Lymington knows more than most about Iraqi snipers.

Captain Moulton shot to fame in April when, in command of a Warrior armoured vehicle attempting to secure the lethal "mortar mile" into Iraq's second city Basra, he stuck his head above the turret in a deliberate bid to lure hidden enemy gunmen into revealing their positions.

Rocket-powered grenades glanced off the Warrior's sides and AK-47 rifle bullets whizzed past the gallant Captain's face, but he stuck to his task of pinpointing Iraqi positions for his gunners.

Back at base, journalists from press and TV jumped on the story and soon built the "slightly embarrassed" James Moulton into an army icon.

The crowning glory came on May 21 when international magazine TIME chose James as one of 36 European Heroes of 2003, alongside names like Nelson Mandela, rock star and charity fundraiser Bono, and working-class role model Jamie Oliver.

Home on leave at his parents' cottage in Sway Road, James is less tousle-haired than his Basra news pictures show.

He had a haircut - and a shave with a cut-throat blade - from an Iraqi barber before he left for home.

"I wasn't worried about trusting an Iraqi with the razor. Lots of us did the same," said James.

"My experience was that the people of Basra, particularly the Shias, considered us as liberators, not a force of occupation. I think they knew we were different from the regime they were used to - the regime that brutally repressed them after the first Gulf War. They knew we were there to give them support."

But the early days of the war were more uncertain. In March, as James and his 36-man platoon waited in Kuwait for their Warriors to arrive by sea from Germany, nuclear-biological-chemical training was the order of the day. British troops were not going to be taken unprepared by the feared onslaught of Saddam's fabled weapons of mass destruction.

"We also practised handling prisoners of war, fighting in buildings , and lots of role play for conventional desert battles over vast tracts of sand spiked with minefields," said James.

"In the end it was not a conventional war. We saw very few enemy soldiers in uniform. But we saw many paramilitaries - guerrillas almost - and we always had to be on our guard."

James and his fellow troops in the 1st Battalion the Irish Guards took to heart the now legendary words of Lieutenant-Colonel Tim Collins, who addressed them before they went into action saying: "We go to liberate, not to conquer."

"We always made 100 per cent sure the person we fired at was an immediate threat. Killing civilians would not do any good towards winning hearts and minds. Our prime reason was to gain the confidence of the locals," said James.

The Irish Guards were on the tail end of the first wave into Iraq - right after the American Marines.

In a Theatre of War which covered virtually a whole country, the choreography of regimental positions quickly became complicated. "There were thousands of troops pouring in to Iraq and at the beginning we were getting too close to each other. We heard rumours of a Republican Guard division massing near Baghdad, so we moved up earlier than we had first planned.

"We had the task of securing four or five bridges north of Basra. We had a few little scraps on the way.

"Then as we reached the outskirts of the city we met a flow of civilians - women and children - many with gunshot wounds. It was pretty certain they were firing on their own people."

It was as James and his men were driving down the so-called "mortar mile" into a suburb of Basra that he carried out his now famous reconnaissance ploy.

"We had a fair idea where their gun positions were, but the only way to be sure was to look out the top of the turret," said James.

"With the Warrior's hatch down you can only see through narrow slits.

"As commander I had to give confidence to my gunner and the guys behind me. We took a few grenade blows which bounced off the side. If they had gone into the back of the vehicle it might have been a different story.

"It was quite tense. We had no idea what their weapons were or what they could do. At the time there were so many things on my mind I had no time to worry. But I was completely knackered after the adrenalin drained away."

The Irish Guards, who had been due this month for ceremonial duties in London wearing their trademark red tunics and bearskins, faced more harrowing responsibilities when they were deployed to clear Basra's sprawling university campus.

"Our company had a huge task. We faced some resistance and killed a fair few. It was clear their soldiers had only just left as we arrived. Shedloads of weapons were lying around," said James. "Every door you kicked open could hide an enemy soldier, a looter, women and children, or worse - a mixture of the lot.

"Looters followed us into the campus and they were hard to tell from the paramilitaries. We chased looters away but never shot at them."

Despite every care, two Irish Guards were killed during the operation. Piper Christopher Muzvuru and Lance-Corporal Ian Malone were both victims of snipers.

"We lost those men on April 6. But from the next day onwards there was no more resistance. From April 10, we were wearing berets instead of helmets and handing out water. It's the bizarreness of war."

But for the next few weeks James is enjoying the normality of family life. His dad, Douglas -- a retired major who served in the first Gulf War - has proudly collected all the cuttings about his son's exploits, but for his mum Jill, a supply teacher, just having James home is enough.

"We're not worried about awards and medals. We just wanted him back in one piece," she said.