LANCE Corporal Rob Woods had just seconds to decide whether to shoot as the car sped towards him across waste ground on the northern outskirts of Lashkar Gah, writes Michael Smith.

Topaz Two Zero was one of only a few patrols going out on foot after intelligence reports that two Taliban suicide bombers were wired up and waiting for British troops somewhere in the capital of Helmand province.

The car’s headlights flickered as it sped towards Woods across the bumpy earth. Around him the commandos were holding up their fists in the halt sign and screaming, “Dresh, dresh, dresh” — the Pashtu word for stop.

Further back, Sergeant Tony Phipps, the 35-year-old patrol commander, fired two mini-flares into the air to grab the driver’s attention, but to no avail. “The thought comes to you that you have to open fire and you think, f****** hell, will I get into trouble?” Woods, 21, from Aldershot, Hampshire, said. “Then it’s getting so close you have no choice.”

Woods fired three shots into the ground in front of the car, which skidded to a halt as the driver got the message, unaware of how close he had come to being shot dead.

The foot patrol had set out from the British base a couple of hours earlier with the threat of the suicide bombers on everyone’s mind. The commandos had learnt basic greetings such as “salamu alaikum” — peace be upon you — and “senga yai” — how are you? But with the threat of suicide bombers, the most important word was always going to be “dresh”.

Their first stop was a school where the teachers had been receiving Taliban “night letters” warning them to stop teaching girls. The British patrols appear to have deterred those responsible and the night letters have stopped while army engineers are building new classrooms.

Night was falling as Phipps led his men off across undulating ridges of hardened mud. Teenage girls strolled past arm in arm. Children gathered, pleading for sweets. The commandos waved them away, a direct result of “lessons learnt” from Iraq. Children drawn in by the patrols are frequent victims of the bombers.

Suddenly the peace was shattered by the cries of “dresh”, the mini-flares and the startling effect of the three rifle shots. The sequence took less than a minute.

The driver was bewildered. His hair and beard were smartly trimmed. Did he look like a suicide bomber, he asked. His brother had been taken to hospital, he said, and he was rushing home to tell his family.

Woods was shaken but secure in his own judgment. “It’s broadcast on the radio and they’re told not to drive at us,” he said. “I’d probably have been justified to put rounds through the windscreen.”

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