I was taken hostage in Sierra Leone: Twenty-five years later, I went back to face it

Eleven of us - ten British soldiers and our interpreter - were captured by the West Side Boys militia during the country’s brutal civil war. We were held in a jungle camp, surrounded by chaos and uncertainty, where the threat to our lives was constant.

When negotiations broke down, the British Army launched Operation Barras, a high-risk rescue mission carried out by the Parachute Regiment and Special Forces.

It was fast, fierce and successful - but it came at a terrible price. One British soldier, Brad Tinnion, was killed, and several others were badly wounded. We were brought home, but none of us were the same.

For years, I tried to put it behind me. Like many veterans, I told myself I’d dealt with it. But trauma doesn’t work that way. It lingers. It waits for quiet moments - the middle of the night, the sound of a helicopter - to remind you it’s still there.

So this year, I decided to go back.

Returning to Sierra Leone wasn’t easy. I didn’t know what I’d find or how I’d feel, but I knew I had to face it. I went back to the same villages, stood on the same ground where I’d once been held, and crossed the same river that had been both our escape route and our prison.

It was overwhelming. Every sound and smell brought memories rushing back. But amid that, there was peace. The country has changed so much - full of laughter, children and colour.

The people welcomed us warmly, even in the places that once symbolised fear.

We held a small memorial for Brad and the men injured in the rescue. Standing there, surrounded by life and renewal, I finally felt able to let some of it go.

This journey was about confronting what I’d buried for years. About reclaiming something that had defined me for too long. I wouldn’t call it closure - I don’t think there’s ever full closure for something like that - but it was a step towards peace.

And I couldn’t have done it without Veterans for Veterans, the organisation that helped make this trip possible.

They’re run by ex-servicemen and women who understand what it means to live with the aftershocks of service - both physical and emotional. They don’t just talk about support; they live it.

For me, this trip was a reminder that healing doesn’t come from forgetting. It comes from facing what haunts you, even when it hurts. Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to go back.

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Ian Getty is a former Royal Irish Regiment soldier. You can watch the video of his journey here

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