History - those who came before

History - those who came before Helping to preserve the history of those who came before
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While bullets were being fired around her in Afghanistan, Sergeant Hayley Vendyback kept her attention where it mattered...
05/09/2026

While bullets were being fired around her in Afghanistan, Sergeant Hayley Vendyback kept her attention where it mattered — on the wounded serviceman in front of her.

As an RAF emergency nurse with the Medical Emergency Response Team, Hayley’s job was not to wait safely behind the lines.

She flew towards the casualties.

From Camp Bastion, MERT crews were sent forward by helicopter to reach seriously wounded British, coalition and Afghan personnel, begin treatment during extraction and keep them alive on the flight back to hospital.

During one mission, Hayley was treating a wounded serviceman beneath the rotors of a Chinook when Taliban gunfire targeted the area.

She remained focused on her casualty.

Not for recognition.
Not for reward.
But because someone’s life depended on the medical team around him.

That moment was not an isolated part of her service.

Hayley completed four operational tours across Iraq and Afghanistan during 13 years in the Princess Mary’s Royal Air Force Nursing Service. In Iraq she served with a helicopter-based Immediate Response Team. In Afghanistan, she became part of MERT — flying into some of the most dangerous situations of the war.

In May 2010, she was also among the medics who helped save Sergeant Rick Clement after an IED left him catastrophically wounded.

Five years later, when Rick walked on prosthetic legs to lay a wreath at Blackpool Cenotaph, Hayley was there to see it.

But service left its own wounds.

In 2013, Hayley was medically discharged from the RAF after being diagnosed with PTSD, bringing to an end the emergency-nursing career she had devoted herself to.

She rebuilt her life in a different direction, later working with dogs and remaining connected to the MERT community, where she now helps support others and promote mental-health awareness.

Hayley Vendyback’s story is not only about what happened under fire.

It is about the lives she helped bring home — and the strength it took to keep going afterwards.

With respect for her service, her sacrifice and the people she helped save.

🌺 In the fields outside Crossmaglen, Corporal Derek Hayes and his search dog Ben went forward together — and both were k...
05/09/2026

🌺 In the fields outside Crossmaglen, Corporal Derek Hayes and his search dog Ben went forward together — and both were killed doing the dangerous work they had been trained to do. 🌺

Derek was a 28-year-old Royal Pioneer Corps soldier serving during Operation BANNER in Northern Ireland.

He had been trained as an Arms and Explosives Search dog handler, working alongside Ben, his Labrador search dog.

Their job took them towards suspected danger — searching for weapons and explosives while others could remain further back.

On 21 May 1988, Derek and Ben were carrying out a search near Castleblayney Road, outside Crossmaglen.

An IRA booby-trap explosive device detonated.

Derek and Ben were both killed.

Other members of the patrol escaped injury.

It is difficult to separate the soldier from the dog in this story, because they were not simply together by chance.

They were a working team.

Derek had been trained to handle a specialist search dog. Ben had been trained to help find the hidden dangers that could kill.

Their work depended on them moving forward together into places others could not safely approach.

And that is how they died.

Together, doing the job they had been trained to do.

Afterwards, Ben was cremated, and his ashes were placed with Derek at Newport Cemetery in Lincoln.

Handler and dog.

Together in service.
Together in death.
And together still.

Derek and Ben are remembered on the Red Paw memorial at the National Memorial Arboretum, alongside the handlers and dogs who lost their lives while serving with the Army Dog Unit in Northern Ireland.

Decades later, their story remains painfully simple: a soldier and his dog went forward together to search for danger.

Corporal Derek Hayes was 28 years old.

Ben was his Labrador search dog.

They served together.
They died together.
And they deserve to be remembered together.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

04/09/2026

🌺 “He Was Just 31, A Soldier Far From Home. His War Ended Not On A Battlefield, But Inside A Military Hospital.” 🌺

William Ryder was born in Wigan in the summer of 1912, the son of Thomas and Elizabeth Ellen Ryder.

He grew up around Poolstock in a working-class family whose lives were closely tied to the industrial and mining communities of the town.

But William took a different path.

By adulthood, he was working as a motor mechanic — a skilled trade that would later fit naturally with his wartime service.

On 19 July 1941, William married 29-year-old Joyce Kilgour at St James Church in Wigan.

William was 28.

The couple made their home at 2 Holme Terrace, Swinley.

Britain was already nearly two years into the Second World War, and at some point William entered the Army.

By 1943, he was serving as a Serjeant in the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers — REME.

REME had only been created in 1942 and was responsible for keeping the Army's vehicles, weapons and mechanical equipment working.

For a former motor mechanic like William, it was a natural fit.

He was attached to the REME Training Establishment, almost certainly connected with Arborfield in Berkshire.

But by September 1943, William was no longer there.

He was a patient at Banstead Military Hospital in Surrey.

Banstead was part of the Army's wartime psychiatric service, caring for servicemen experiencing serious mental health difficulties.

We do not know what William had been through before he arrived there.

We do not know his diagnosis, how long he had been in hospital, or what circumstances had brought him to Banstead.

What we do know is how his story ended.

On 4 September 1943, William died from aspirin poisoning.

He was only 31 years old.

Two days later, an inquest was held.

The coroner recorded that William had taken his own life “whilst the balance of his mind was disturbed.”

Behind that formal wartime wording was a young husband whose life had unravelled in circumstances we may never fully understand.

Joyce had been his wife for just over two years.

William's body was brought more than 200 miles home from Surrey to Lancashire.

On 11 September 1943, he was buried at St Elizabeth of Hungary Church in Aspull.

There is one particularly poignant detail.

The clergyman who conducted William's burial was the same man who had married William and Joyce just two years earlier.

One service had marked the beginning of their married life.

The other marked its end.

Some battles were fought far from the battlefield, behind hospital doors, by men whose suffering was barely understood at the time.

More than eighty years later, William deserves to be remembered not simply for the manner of his death, but for the life that came before it — a Wigan son, a motor mechanic, a husband and a serving soldier who was only 31 when he was brought home for the final time.

🌺 Lest We Forget — 16001040 Serjeant William Ryder
Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers — REME
4 September 1943
Aged 31 🌺

At just 18 years old, Rifleman Aaron Lincoln went forward in Basra after another soldier had been wounded — and was kill...
04/09/2026

At just 18 years old, Rifleman Aaron Lincoln went forward in Basra after another soldier had been wounded — and was killed before the patrol was over.

On 2 April 2007, Aaron’s platoon was patrolling Basra City when a gunman opened fire, injuring one of his comrades.

Aaron’s team was sent forward to investigate the suspected firing position.

As they climbed the steps of a hotel, another shot came from a different direction.

Aaron was hit by a high-velocity round that passed through his protective eyewear and helmet.

He was evacuated through Basra Palace and taken to the field hospital at Basra Air Station.

Despite treatment, he died from his injuries.

He was 18 years old.

Aaron had wanted to be a soldier for years. He enlisted at 17, completed infantry training at Catterick and deployed to Iraq only weeks after his eighteenth birthday.

Known to his comrades as “Lincs”, he had already begun building a future in the Army. He hoped to become a bugler and had volunteered for a later deployment to Afghanistan.

That future ended in Basra.

But Aaron’s story did not end there.

On 5 April 2007, his body was repatriated alongside Kingsman Danny Wilson. Their cortege passed through Wootton Bassett, where the town’s mayor stood silently in tribute.

Residents began joining him.

From that simple act grew the repatriation tradition that would make Wootton Bassett a national symbol of remembrance and later help lead to the town becoming Royal Wootton Bassett.

Aaron could never have known the part his final journey would play in that story.

He was a young Rifleman with his whole career still ahead of him, killed while his team moved forward after another soldier had been wounded.

His life was short.

His service was not forgotten.

Rifleman Aaron Lincoln, 2nd Battalion The Rifles — remembered in Durham, remembered by his regiment, and remembered in the story of a town that came to stand for the nation’s respect for its fallen.

Lest We Forget.

🌺 In the darkness of Helmand, Dipprasad Pun held a rooftop sangar against a Taliban assault — and saved the three comrad...
04/09/2026

🌺 In the darkness of Helmand, Dipprasad Pun held a rooftop sangar against a Taliban assault — and saved the three comrades below him. 🌺

On the night of 17 September 2010, Acting Sergeant Dipprasad Pun was alone in the rooftop sangar of a lightly manned checkpoint near Babaji, Afghanistan.

Then he heard a metallic sound beyond the gate.

Insurgents were outside, preparing an improvised explosive device.

Pun raised the alarm, gathered his weapons and radios, and opened fire.

What followed was around 17 minutes of almost continuous fighting.

Attacked from three directions, he moved around the rooftop position, firing hundreds of rounds from his GPMG and SA80 as the enemy pressed closer.

Two insurgents reached the roof area. Pun shot one, but when his SA80 jammed he threw the metal tripod from his machine gun at the second attacker, knocking him down.

He also dropped a sandbag onto an insurgent trying to climb up.

When his immediately available ammunition was exhausted, Pun detonated a Claymore mine.

The position held.

The exact number of attackers was never known. Pun estimated 20 to 30; local information later suggested around 15. The official account credited him with killing three attackers, driving the others away and saving the three soldiers inside the compound.

He later admitted that at first he had been frightened and expected to be killed.

Then his training took over.

For what he did that night, Dipprasad Pun was awarded the Military Cross — one of Britain’s highest awards for gallantry in the face of the enemy.

The truth needs no embellishment.

A Gurkha stood his ground, protected his comrades and refused to let the position be overrun.

He went on to complete 22 years of service in the British Army.

His story is one of courage, duty and immense pride — not because of what later grew into legend, but because of what he actually did.

Today, Dipprasad Pun’s service deserves to be honoured for exactly what it was: an extraordinary stand in defence of the men beside him.

With pride and respect, we honour his service. 🌺

✈️ In Britain’s darkest hour, Sailor Malan did more than destroy enemy aircraft — he helped teach fighter pilots how to ...
03/09/2026

✈️ In Britain’s darkest hour, Sailor Malan did more than destroy enemy aircraft — he helped teach fighter pilots how to survive, fight together and strike back.

A South African merchant seaman before the war, Adolph “Sailor” Malan joined the RAF and became one of Fighter Command’s outstanding combat leaders.

Over Dunkirk and during the Battle of Britain, he flew at the heart of the fighting with No. 74 Squadron. He was an exceptional marksman, but his influence reached far beyond his own victories.

Malan believed in getting close before firing, keeping the initiative and protecting the men around him. His famous “Ten of My Rules for Air Fighting” were circulated throughout Fighter Command, passing lessons learned in combat to pilots who would need them to stay alive.

He later led the Biggin Hill Wing on offensive sweeps over occupied France and, on D-Day, was still flying operationally — leading Free French Spitfires while escorting Albemarles towing Horsa gliders during the Normandy invasion.

By the end of the war, he had risen to Group Captain, having been awarded the DSO and DFC — each with a Bar.

But his stand against authoritarianism did not end in 1945.

Back in South Africa, Malan became national president of the Torch Commando, a huge veterans’ movement opposing racial discrimination, censorship, government abuse of power and the removal of Coloured voters from the electoral roll.

The man who had fought fascism over Europe was now prepared to use his wartime reputation against injustice in his own country.

He could have lived quietly on the glory of the Battle of Britain.

He chose not to.

When Malan died from Parkinson’s disease in 1963, the South African government did not grant him a military funeral. Kimberley gave him a civic one instead, and thousands reportedly lined the route.

His legacy is greater than any combat score: a fighter leader who helped defend freedom in the air, and later refused to stay silent when rights were being stripped away at home.

Group Captain Adolph Gysbert “Sailor” Malan, DSO & Bar, DFC & Bar.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

In Afghanistan, Derek Derenalagi was believed dead after an IED took both his legs — five years later, he was competing ...
03/09/2026

In Afghanistan, Derek Derenalagi was believed dead after an IED took both his legs — five years later, he was competing for Great Britain at the Paralympic Games.

On 19 July 2007, Derek was serving as a gunner with the Worcestershire and Sherwood Foresters in Helmand Province when his Sn**ch Land Rover reversed over a concealed explosive device.

The blast devastated the vehicle and threw him clear.

One leg was effectively severed. The other was so badly damaged that it too had to be amputated above the knee.

At Camp Bastion, his condition became so critical that preparations were reportedly made to place him in a body bag.

Then a faint pulse was found.

Derek was evacuated to Britain and woke days later to a life changed completely.

Beside him was his wife, Ana.

She gave up her job in America, returned to Britain and cared for him through rehabilitation, helping him rebuild his independence piece by piece.

Sport became part of that recovery.

In 2012, less than five years after the explosion, Derek became European discus champion.

Then came London.

Before around 80,000 people, he competed for Great Britain at the Paralympic Games — the same man who, only years earlier, had come so close to death.

He later finished sixth at the 2013 World Championships and, at the first Invictus Games in 2014, won gold in shot put and discus, plus silver in the 100 metres.

But Derek kept climbing higher.

He later chose to represent Fiji, the country of his birth, using his profile to challenge attitudes towards disability and support Para sport in the Pacific.

The explosion in Helmand changed his body forever.

It did not decide the rest of his life.

From a battlefield in Afghanistan to the Paralympic Stadium, from rehabilitation to international competition, Derek kept finding another challenge to overcome and another summit to aim for.

His story is not about what was taken from him.

It is about what he built afterwards.

Respect to Derek Derenalagi — British Army veteran, Paralympian, Invictus champion and a man who refused to let one terrible day define everything that followed.

He was dealing with an ordinary domestic call when gunshots rang out across the street — and unarmed PC Patrick Dunne we...
03/09/2026

He was dealing with an ordinary domestic call when gunshots rang out across the street — and unarmed PC Patrick Dunne went to find out who needed help.

On 20 October 1993, Patrick was on duty in Clapham when he heard shots coming from a nearby house.

Before stepping outside, he alerted colleagues and told the people inside the house he was attending to stay indoors.

Then he went to investigate.

Patrick was in full police uniform, wearing a high-visibility jacket and carrying no firearm.

Across the road, William Danso had just been shot repeatedly by gangster Gary Nelson and two other armed men.

As they fled, Patrick walked straight into their path.

Nelson fired once.

The bullet struck Patrick in the chest, causing catastrophic injuries. He died almost immediately.

He was 44 years old.

Patrick had not been sent to confront gunmen. He had no warning that an ordinary call would place him in the path of armed killers.

He heard gunfire nearby — and went to investigate.

Before joining the Metropolitan Police in his early forties, Patrick had spent many years as a teacher. In Clapham, he became a Home Beat officer known for helping people in the community, with letters of thanks from members of the public kept on his service record.

His murder shocked the Metropolitan Police and beyond.

But justice would take more than twelve years.

The original prosecution collapsed through lack of evidence. The investigation was later revived, and in February 2006 Gary Nelson was convicted of murdering both Patrick Dunne and William Danso. He was sentenced to life imprisonment with a minimum term of 35 years.

Patrick’s service has never been forgotten. He was later awarded the Metropolitan Police High Commendation, and in 2025 his next of kin were approved to receive the Elizabeth Emblem, recognising public servants who lose their lives in the course of duty.

Patrick could not have known what was waiting outside that house.

He heard gunfire nearby and went to investigate.

That decision cost him his life — and defined the way he would be remembered.

PC Patrick Dunne, Metropolitan Police.

Lest We Forget.

🌺 At just 18, Tom Caughey survived Warrenpoint — but for the rest of his life, he carried the memory of the men who did ...
02/09/2026

🌺 At just 18, Tom Caughey survived Warrenpoint — but for the rest of his life, he carried the memory of the men who did not. 🌺

On 27 August 1979, Private Tom Caughey was travelling with 2 PARA.

His friend Gary Barnes was struggling with exhaust fumes, so Tom swapped places with him and moved to the rear of the truck.

Minutes later, an IRA bomb exploded beside the convoy at Narrow Water.

Six soldiers were killed.

Tom was thrown from the wreckage with severe burns and multiple fractures. His legs were on fire.

As he lay badly wounded, a maroon Parachute Regiment beret was placed across his face. Tom could hear men identifying the dead.

He feared they thought he was one of them.

He moved the beret to show that he was still alive.

Then came the second explosion.

Tom and Paul Burns were being evacuated in a Wessex helicopter when another bomb exploded nearby, killing 12 more soldiers.

Eighteen servicemen were killed at Warrenpoint that day.

Tom survived.

But survival carried another burden.

He spent around 14 months in treatment and rehabilitation, learned to walk again and returned to the Parachute Regiment. His injuries later prevented him deploying with 2 PARA to the Falklands.

For years, Warrenpoint followed him.

He lived with flashbacks, anger and survivor guilt. Sometimes he returned to Narrow Water and spoke to the men who had died.

Eventually, he sought help.

Later, Tom took part in reconciliation work with former combatants while making clear the killings could never be justified.

Not forgetting.

Not excusing.

But refusing to let hatred own the rest of his life.

Forty years after fearing he had been counted among the dead, Tom returned to Narrow Water and read aloud the names of the Parachute Regiment soldiers who never came home.

Tom Caughey died in July 2022, aged 60.

He survived the bombs, endured the long road back, and carried the memory of his friends for the rest of his life.

Rest in peace, Private Tom Caughey.

Lest We Forget. 🌺

Corporal Barry Dempsey volunteered for one of Helmand’s most remote patrol bases and used his medical skills to save Afg...
02/09/2026

Corporal Barry Dempsey volunteered for one of Helmand’s most remote patrol bases and used his medical skills to save Afghan soldiers and civilians — before an IED took his own life.

By 2008, medicine had become Barry’s vocation in the Army.

He had spent much of his career in the Regimental Aid Post, risen to Corporal and completed his Class 1 combat-medical training.

Then came Afghanistan.

Attached to 1st Battalion, The Royal Irish Regiment, Barry joined a team working directly alongside the Afghan National Army in Helmand.

He volunteered to accompany them to a remote patrol base.

There, far from home, Barry treated people caught in the reality of war.

His commanding officer later confirmed that he had helped save the lives of Afghan soldiers and civilians during the tour.

No grand words are needed.

Lives were saved.

On 18 August 2008, Barry was on a joint British and Afghan patrol near Gereshk.

The patrol dismounted.

At around 08:25, an improvised explosive device detonated.

Barry was killed.

He was just 29.

At home, his wife Shelly had lost her husband. Andie, aged four, and Charlie, aged two, had lost their dad.

There was another future Barry would never get to live.

Friends remembered that he had spoken about becoming a paramedic after leaving the Army, while colleagues recalled his interest in continuing his medical career beyond military service.

For Barry, medicine was more than a posting. It was where his Army career had led him — and where his future appeared to be heading.

He should be remembered not only for the morning he was killed, but for what came before it: a soldier who went into danger carrying the skills to preserve life, and used them to save both soldiers and civilians.

Corporal Barry Dempsey.
Soldier. Medic. Husband. Father.

Lest We Forget.

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