Page 116 - The Light Dragoon 2024

The Regimental Journal of The Light Dragoons
In May 2012, LCpl Cayle Royce MBE was hit by an IED during a raid targeting a weapons cache - we were serving in 1st Troop, 12 Mech Brigade Reconnaissance Force on Herrick 16. 40 days in a coma, and multiple resuscitations later, he came round in Birmingham Hospital two legs less and his dancing days behind him. His life was irrevocably changed, however the remarkably journey of his recovery through adventure was about to begin.
The Light Dragoons has unwittingly built somewhat of an Ocean rowing heritage with former serving soldiers having rowed across the Pacific, Atlantic and Indian Oceans. One of the men who came to see Cayle Royce in those early days was James Kayll who rowed the Indian Ocean in 2011. It was a gruelling 75 day affair that only 12 other crews had achieved in history and the first time fully unsupported, raising £50,000 for LD Charitable trust. ‘Kaylly’ and ‘Roycey’ teamed up to row the Atlantic in 2014 together with another amputee Royal Marine, Lee Spencer, and Army Officer, Mark Jenkins - the most injured team to have conquered the feat. Roycey is a glutton for punishment and so it didn’t surprise those of us that know him when he opted to do it again a year later but this time with an all amputee crew boasting a total of three legs between four men.
Watching Roycey complete two rows across the Atlantic was awe inspiring and it set off a chain reaction that meant nine years later our team ‘Brothers N Oars’ were rowing into a coastal storm off the West Coast of the United States of America. My brother Oliver Amos as skipper, me, and his two great school friends, Parris Norris and Barney Lewis, had begun our 2,800mile (2,200NM) journey across the Pacific Ocean from Monterey, California, to Kauai, Hawaii, something only 80 people in the world had achieved until last year. After three days and amidst hideous
Pacific Adventure
sea conditions, the realisation of the mammoth scale of what we had embarked on began to sink in.
1.8 million oar strokes to go and the weather was throwing us in every direction but the one we wanted to go. For 12 days we were in by far the biggest seas we’d seen in two years of training; rowing in heavy cross winds, the waves the size of houses (35ft swells), and under cold dark grey skies. Paris was horribly sea-sick, unable to eat any food for the first 5 days, which, considering the calorie burn rate is in the region of 6,000kcal per day meant he was in a very dark place. Meanwhile, Oliver, suffering from the separation from his pregnant wife and experiencing levels of exhaustion beyond his known threshold, was in an emotional state.
In high seas getting around the boat is a balancing act! Imagine walking down a three-dimensional seesaw whilst hopping over safety lines and skipping over moving oars, all whilst being dowsed by the freezing Ocean. It might sound like Total Wipeout but it’s not fun and movement around the boat is tricky enough for any agile and fit bloke. It dawned on me a few days in that Roycey and his crew had had to do this without legs; pulling themselves by their arms out of the cabins and across deck to get to the rowing positions or to conduct any sort of administration... so we had no excuse.
But for the occasional sunrays popping under the cloud for a blustery sunset, there was no respite in the weather. We rowed 14 hours a day, two hours on, two hours off, donating an additional two hours to fill the third rowing slot as much as possible for the extra mileage whilst trying to achieve about 5 hours sleep. The endless repetition is physically exhausting and mentally draining, and, freezing cold night, we were falling asleep on the oars but for the fear
Chilly sunset
of that one rogue wave that would catch us side on and capsize the boat. But none of the lads missed a stroke and we always managed to find a laugh, be cheerful, and keep morale high.
Two weeks in, and two of three auto-tillers burnt out (our automatic steering system), the weather eased before seemingly disap- pearing all together and the sea turned to glass. At first, we were relieved but after 4 days of heavy water and the illusion of going no-where, boredom and frustration started creeping in. On the plus side the nights were becoming more pleasurable, warmer, and with the disappearance of cloud all together we were witness to the spectacular Oceana night sky. Now we were consistently heading West we watched Ursa Major (the ‘Plough’) spin around the North Star on our left shoulder and Scorpio (the ‘Fish Hook’) on our right shoulder. The sky was incredible and with no aircraft lights in view (they fly straight not in a curve with the currents like us) we saw the ISS and Hubble several times a night and occasionally we’d catch Elon Musk’s Starlink. Accept perhaps in the Afghan desert you’ve never seen meteors like it - one a minute and all night. One in particular was so big and so close it shone bright green, seemingly flying in slow motion, and then zig zigging before a flash and disappearing – Oli and I cheering in delight. A particular highlight during those calm days was when a large shoal of flying fish skipped across the boat, a fairly regular occurrence, except this time Paris yelped as something larger than a flying fish, smacked him in the face and landed in the boat. It was flying squid! We later discovered these ‘Japanese Flying Squid’ draw in water through their bums and release it at high pressure to launch them through the air and escape predators.
Leaving the harbour, not far to go!
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