For Alison, the memories that have stayed with her from her service in Afghanistan are, first and foremost, memories of people.
The people who taught her how to become a better leader. The people who taught her about herself. The people who inspired her. And the people who saw her at her worst and stood by her – and still do today.
‘Overwhelmingly, these memories are incredibly positive,’ Alison says.
But remembering the people she served alongside also means remembering those she feels she let down.
‘Maybe these are the people that taught me the most, and these are lessons that I carry with me today.’
Although Alison no longer serves full-time, those relationships remain an important part of her life.
‘The people I served with are my fondest memory and form an important part of my contemporary support network. I hope I do the same for them.’
The wish for another way
Her experience in Afghanistan also changed the way Alison thought about war itself.
It left her wishing it were never necessary.
‘My experiences in Afghanistan made me wish that war was not an option. I wish that we could always find another way.’
She remembers watching patrols leave their base and hoping she would see every one of those faces again.
Sometimes the patrols would be away for three or four days, or longer. The soldiers carried minimal food to reduce the weight on their backs.
When they returned, it could be 2am.
They would arrive back at a dark and quiet camp after days of physical hardship, exertion and the mental strain of fighting for their lives.
There was no fanfare waiting for them.
Instead, they would walk along a dark, quiet gravel road from the flight line back to their camp.
‘It felt lonely and sad,’ Alison says.
But they were not alone.
They had each other.
And sometimes, the smallest acts of care mattered most.
When the patrols returned in the middle of the night, Australian cooks would get up and prepare them a hot meal.
For Alison, those moments became a reminder of something simple but profound.
‘It reminded me to treasure the small things.’
Remembering those who didn’t come home
The other memory that has stayed with Alison is grief.
Some of the people she knew did not return.
Their deaths were devastating for their friends and their teams. But Alison also understood the wider families behind each person who was lost.
‘They were sons, and they were brothers, and they were husbands, and they were fathers.’
Knowing the names of their mothers, fathers, wives and children made the loss feel even more personal.
‘It just made it endlessly sad.’
Grief was also shared across nationalities.
Alison remembers marching through the streets of their base in Tarin Kowt with fallen Australian soldiers while soldiers from other nations stood guard along the streets in their honour.
Australians did the same when other nations lost their people.
Among the memories Alison carries is witnessing the US military’s response when one of its soldiers was killed.
The soldiers would form up on parade and conduct a roll call.
When they reached the name of the fallen soldier, there was no answer.
The name would be called again.
And again.
Still, there was no answer.
Then the roll call would continue.
For Alison, these moments made the human cost of the conflict impossible to separate from the people she knew and served alongside.
By the time she left Afghanistan, the experience had left her with a question that remains with her today.
‘I left Afghanistan thinking there has to be a better way to solve the problems of the world.’
Twenty-five years on
A quarter of a century later, Alison’s perspective has changed.
She says she has become more empathetic.
She thinks about the people of Afghanistan who are simply trying to live their lives.
She thinks about the Australian soldiers, sailors and airmen who served there – and what was asked of them.
And she thinks about the friends she made through service who are now living with the consequences of what they experienced.
‘I have huge empathy for my many friends who endured hardships in the name of service and who are now struggling with how to reconcile the trauma.’
At the time, Alison was eager to serve. She wanted to do her job well and support her team.
She remembers the hard times, but she remembers the laughter too.
With the distance of 25 years, however, sadness has become the stronger emotion.
‘Now I look back with sadness more than anything.’
It’s sadness for the lives lost on all sides.
And it is sadness for the lasting damage to the mental health of people she describes as strong, resilient and honourable – people who served their country and carried the consequences home with them.
For Alison, remembering Afghanistan is therefore not simply about remembering a military campaign.
It’s about remembering people.
Those who came home and those who did not.
The friends who continue to support one another.
And the people of Afghanistan whose lives were also caught up in the conflict.
Twenty-five years on, the memories remain complicated.
There is pride in service, memories of laughter and extraordinary camaraderie and gratitude for the people who stood beside her – but there is also grief.
Above all, there is the enduring belief that Alison carried home with her – that there must be a better way.
