I was about to get into a Vector for my final patrol in Afghanistan when I was asked if I had ever had any weapons training.

Quickly dismissing the couple of times I had had a go on my brother’s air rifle I thought it was most accurate to reply ‘no’.

My fear levels rose slightly more when I was asked to give my blood group – the surreal nature of where I was and what I was doing hit me once again.

Having been here for five days now, it’s strange how quickly you get used to being in a war zone - gun fire and explosions become background noise and your bullet-proof vest feels like the very latest fashion accessory.

But every now and then you get a jolt back to reality. This is a war zone and things like blood groups are important.

On the patrol with Corunna Company 6 Rifles I got my first ground eye-view glimpses of the infamous Afghanistan dessert.

I was able to stick my head out of the top of the truck (an absolute no no in Sangin) to get a decent view of the surroundings of Camp Bastion – it’s sand, sand, and more sand – although very damp saturated sand, verging on sloppy mud, courtesy of the persistent rainfall we have had in the last couple of days.

The desert is in fairness breathtaking – it stretches for miles in a flat expanse up to the mountains and is criss-crossed with dirt tracks and tarmac roads. It was distinctly chilly poking out of the top of the vehicle though – the wind had a definite bite to it and the overcast skies reminded me of home.

The patrol I was with stops and checks all vehicles it comes across as part of their role as force protection for Camp Bastion, the main British Base in Helmand.

On this journey they hailed down two white minibuses packed full of Afghans who were making their way through the desert, apparently on their way to a wedding.

Not wanting to miss out on what was going on I jumped out of the truck and went up to the first minibus. I have to admit I was pretty wary - as one of the risks they face here is suicide car bombers.

I noticed there were lots of women and children packed into the vehicle as I approached - so I hoped for the best.

One of the Corporals asked the men to get out of the bus and searched it – looking for anything from weapons, to bomb-making equipment, drugs, or mobile phones. He explained what he was doing with a translator who was travelling with the patrol.

He found out where they were going and where they had come from – all part of the massive intelligence-gathering operation that goes on here.

We also went to search an abandoned Bedouin village made up of six four-foot high mud huts. It is nicknamed Star Wars village due to its striking resemblance to Luke Skywalker’s home on Tatooine.

One thing that has struck me over here is that the British sense of humour and wit prevails in all situations – considering the risky situations these guys face day-in, day-out, morale in incredibly high. I guess that’s what keeps them going in the harshest of environments.