‘As I looked at Ken lying there, I know it sounds odd, but a part of me was relieved that I could honestly tell his mother, when I called her in the next few hours, that he looked as if he was sleeping. As for the rest of it – I could not possibly explain.’

The Union Flag was lowered to half mast at Bastion. Sadly this was something that was happening more often during the summer of Op Herrick 8, but for the men and women of the RAVC’s dog soldiers it was something they hoped they would never see for one of their own during the conflict. They hadn’t lost a dog soldier since The Troubles in Northern Ireland.

‘When a soldier is lost, the flag is flown at half mast and I could not believe that this time it was lowered for one of mine,’ recalls Frank Holmes. ‘I now hate flagpoles. What made it worse was the constant repeats on Sky News, and the added loss of Sasha extended the coverage and the agony for all watching. We thought of Ken’s family, lovely people, who would be mourning their son. Believe me, the grief at Bastion and FOB Inkerman was palpable.’

Martyn Thompson was hearing major concern from the men and women in his command over the retrieval of Sasha. He was able to tell them that he had said, ‘Bring the dog if you can,’ but everyone was fully aware of the risks. The area was crawling with Taliban, making it impossible to return to the site without risking a life or limb. What Martyn and his colleagues didn’t realise at the time was that the men of 2 Para had already made a silent promise to each other that they would reach Sasha – no matter what.

Moving in, under the noses of the Taliban, they lifted Sasha’s body off the road and returned her to Inkerman. They said later that Ken’s dog was regarded in the same way as her handler, as one of their own, and there was no way they were going to leave her alone or where she lay. It was a risky mission; the Paras were aware that the enemy would be watching and expecting the soldiers to return for their dog. For all they knew they could have been walking into an ambush or the body could have been booby-trapped. Undeterred by the obvious risks, the men brought Sasha in and handed her back to her family: the RAVC.

When Marianne and the others heard what the Paras had risked for Sasha, tears flowed: ‘I had been tasked out to an Operation in FOB Gibraltar (FOB GIB), which was 10 to 15 km from where Ken was based at FOB Inkerman. It was known to be a risky area. I was with 3 Para and we were due to go on a task early in the morning. The plan was to leave really early in the morning before the light came up so we could move to positions before the enemy could see us.

‘The helicopter dropped me at FOB GIB and got my admin squared away before we all tried to get some sleep. It was early but we also knew we had to be up early. No surprise that it took me forever to get to sleep. I remember just curling up on the sand with my helmet as a pillow and finally managing to drift off. Ironically, once it was dark someone woke me up and I was like, “Oh, for f***’s sake, it’s time to go already?” But the guy just said, “Boss wants to see you.” Straight away I knew someone had deffo been hurt.

‘So I went. Quickly. “Look, a handler and his dog have been hit.” My body became heavy and my mind raced … Who? What? They said they had little info but it was an RPG attack. I wanted to know who it was.

‘They told me I could go through the sit rep/9 liner (situation report) that had been sent to see if could find a ZAP number. I was scrolling through the whole thing and the first listing that caught my eye was the last four numbers of Sasha’s Service number. I was, like, no f***ing way has she been hit. Then I scrolled down more and more and there it was – confirmed. Then I saw Ken’s ZAP number.

‘At this point I was just skimming. I was sure they were just injured. Then I saw “KIA” in what seemed massive writing. I clocked it again. KIA – Killed in Action. I felt like I had had my guts ripped out completely. I felt so heavy and I really didn’t want to believe it. The guys asked if I was OK and I was like, yeah, and went back to my rock to lie down.

‘I lay there while everyone around me slept. The sky in Afghan is so clear that you wouldn’t believe the amount of stars. Everything seemed silent but at night it was far from it. The noise of the Ops room is usually ongoing and the noise of the bugs and cricket things is like white noise – it’s constant. I was there with around 150 guys but right then it felt like I was just sat in the middle of the desert with absolutely nothing and no one around me. I couldn’t really think straight. I just sat with no thoughts, hearing no noise. Nothing.

‘As I waited to be called to go on task I couldn’t cry. By the time I was called to go on the op, between about 3 and 4am, I was so angry with myself because there was no space inside me to feel pain. I was angry Sasha had gone and I had let it happen and I was angry that I hadn’t shed a tear for my colleague, Ken. My best friend used to always joke and say I had a heart of stone or that I was dead inside and in actual fact I started to believe it at this point.

‘So I got asked if I was still up for going out. I was like, “Yes, of course.” Off I went with my dog, Leanna, on a shit night patrol looking for a bunch of a***holes that had just done this to my mates. I was pretty pissed off by this point but knew I’d keep my head. Looking back, that patrol felt like the longest I had ever done but it was probably the shortest. I had been used to ops lasting weeks out on the ground and this was just 24 hours. The guys had a clear objective and it was due to be a quick in and out job.

‘I can’t remember exactly what we were there to do but we were supposed to get places in the dark without the enemy knowing, but about 5 minutes after leaving the FOB there was radio chat from the enemy – they had pretty much clocked us as soon as we had left. We were rather vulnerable as it was new territory to us.

‘When we returned to the FOB I was told a Sea King hele was on its way for me. I told them I was fine and wanted to continue, but that didn’t work. I was then told the hele was on its way and I would be 100 per cent on it – no discussion. I was so exhausted that I remember rolling into the belly of the big bird and just lying there while it took off. I got dragged into a space and left huddled by mailbags.

‘I honestly can’t remember what happened when I got back to Bastion. I am sure we would have been gathered many times but when they talked it was almost like I was under water and only hearing mumbling. It was difficult. I remembered Ken saying to me that he felt really lucky to have Sasha as his search dog as her performance was of such high quality. He was right, she was the best and I know he looked after her. I couldn’t hug Sasha but I remember going to Leanna and begging a cuddle. I sat with her in her kennel for ages. Poor Leanna did her best to comfort me but I felt so guilty. I had lost Sasha and a good mate but I could not cry.

‘I felt worse when I found out later that Sasha’s body had not made it back with Ken’s but then when I was told about the incredible bravery of the guys of 2 Para who had taken it upon themselves to go on a patrol the next morning to retrieve her it absolutely blew me away that they would consider her so highly that they risked their lives to bring her in. My gratitude to these guys remains endless.’

When Marianne heard that Sasha’s body was due back into Camp Bastion she went to the hele pad to accept her.

‘When I returned to the dog unit I lay her on the cold floor and unzipped her body bag. She lay there, not a mark on her body. She looked, as she always looked to me – perfect. Then I turned her over. There was blood and the wounds were deep, but there’s no way you would think they would be enough to kill her. I guessed the shock would have been too much for her. I took a moment with Sasha and apologised a million times over before saying goodbye.’

The wheels of administration moved swiftly and with every eye on getting it right for the man, but there was also a large swell of feeling in getting it right for the dog, too. After all, they died as they served – together. If Kenneth Rowe was going home then it was the dog soldiers’ wish that Sasha go home too and, more than that, she would join him on the flight back to RAF Lyneham. After a great deal of jumping through hoops and rewriting the rule book it was agreed that Ken and Sasha would be repatriated together.

Time was short. Due to the regulations and the heat, Sasha’s body had to be cremated right away, and in the true tradition of the British Army the minds and skills of everyone pulled together to ensure that this canine hero returned in a fashion befitting her military status. There would be no flag-draped coffin for her, so the armourers pitched in with a 5-inch diameter shell casing, engraved with her name and dates, to hold her ashes. It was finished with a polished-wood stopper and the whole thing gleamed to the point that it made anyone who looked at it blink. It was a fine tribute to a fine dog.

Martyn Thompson and Frank Holmes were in charge of the arrangements for the repatriation of Ken Rowe and Sasha back to the UK, and for Frank the ordeal was nothing short of surreal: ‘Never did I think I would need the repatriation training I received on my drill instructor’s course. To be honest, at that time it was treated with a touch of “gallows humour” at Pirbright (the Army training centre) – one of the guys dressed up as the mum or girlfriend, the chaplain is present and we practised for what seemed like a week for something you think you are never going to do for real. I never thought I would do it in my own unit. But there we were, with just two days to get it right for Ken and now Sasha, too. It was bloody heart-breaking.’

Ken and Sasha would not be returning alone. Corporal Jason Barnes, of the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers (REME), had been killed two days before Ken and would be on the same flight. The Paras had been practising the repatriation drill although they were, sadly, used to the format now. Afraid that they would look amateurish beside the Para bearers, Frank spoke to their Sergeant Major and it was agreed that the bearer parties would approach the C17 in line rather than the usual side-by-side.

Selecting the bearers was no easy task. The honour of carrying a fallen colleague has its mix of practical (for height) and emotional (who could hold it together long enough). Everyone volunteered for the job but only six could be selected – amongst them was Sasha’s previous handler, Andy Dodds, and, to steady the coffin at the rear, Frank Holmes. Army Chaplain Paul Gallucci knew the unit well – and he knew Ken, too. He had served with them all in Northern Ireland and was well aware of the value of the dog soldiers in theatre and the deep bond that exists between the dog unit and the infantry on the ground. To complete the proper send-off, Marianne Hay was chosen to carry Sasha’s ashes onto the plane. It was the last thing she could do for the dog she loved, trained and served alongside.

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