At the beginning of 2009, little did Claire Allen know that she would be spending the run-up to Christmas in Helmand province, interviewing troops and recording their Christmas messages to bring home for their loved ones.

Here are some extracts from Claire's Helmand diary. The full diary is in a downloadable document on the right.

The people

THE ONLY things not dwarfed by the size of Bastion, are the people I have met so far in it. Soldiers from 2 Royal Tank Regiment gathered en masse to receive a picture drawn by eight year old Dylan Sawyer, proudly gathering around the picture to thank him for thinking of them.

The posties, who even on a regular day process 300 bags of post in to Bastion, face the mounting piles of well intentioned Christmas gifts sent to troops in theatre with positive energy - distributing gifts and treats around the camp and on to the FOBs for soldiers to enjoy. The chefs happily get you something extra from the kitchen, even though they prepare 4,000 meals, three times a day, every day.

And then standing patiently in the setting sun next to the hesco walls, a group of five soldiers wait to get to the airstrip to join their battlegroup in Sangin. There is a tangible dignity and cautioned bravery about these young men, two as young as 18 just out of training, as they mentally prepare and wait for the start of their operational tour. Not one turned away from us as we interrupted their time. Each one keen to send a Christmas message to the families and loved ones they will be away from this year.

Up at dark

THE MORNING alarm isn’t exactly a shock, but neither is it a welcome interruption to the warmth and comfort of my sleeping bag. What amazes me is the truth to the statement that soldiers can sleep anywhere at anytime. As three of us get up and change in ranging degrees of noise in the dark, the others seem blissfully undisturbed.

Outside is a hive activity. 1 Platoon is moving out to the new PB, taken by the company in a joint op a few weeks back. A tactical advance against the Taliban, but nonetheless a drain on the limited resources of the company in manning and defending it. Moreover, by comparison Minden looks like the Ritz in terms of living conditions for the guys at the new PB.

But the platoon set off cheerfully, posing for the camera as they go. Well, they point out, at least you are away from the heads of sheds at new PB. I don’t envy them their week away. As the platoon they are replacing file into camp after a week away there is a dash to what I had considered primitive showers offering a rather dubious wash. For the guys though, the puffing billy is bliss. They’ve been living with jerry cans of water and no welfare packs to supplement their rations. Next stop is the kitchen.

And then the rain fell

LIFE IN Minden is pretty austere at the best of times – bed is a sleeping bag in a dust-filled room; showers come in the form of water heated in a metal drum with fuel, poured into bags with a tap on the end that you hang up in one of two decidedly unpleasant cubicles; and food is ration pack boil-in-a-bag. Or if you are lucky Pot Noodles sent in the welfare boxes.

That’s just the living conditions without evening considering the twice-daily patrols the soldiers make and the threat of coming under fire or finding an IED too late. The men of Minden, however, have tried to make as much of a home of the camp as they can.

Last night the heavens opened and the mounds of ‘moon dust’ that swallow your feet as you walk and coat your lungs and nose as you breath have now merged into a slippery, smelly, slick of muddy slime. Those with wellies are looking pleased with themselves, but it doesn’t take long for the already grubby conditions to be mud covered.

Confined to either their tent or dark room, it’s pretty miserable here – and absolutely stinking for the guys out on patrol. The guys seem undisturbed. Aren’t you bothered by this I ask? "We’re Welsh," jokes one, "We like the rain". "It’s better than the heat of July," points out another rationally, "that was unpleasant. You couldn’t move it was so hot and back then we only had one and a half litres of water every three days to wash and shave in. And no electricity." It seems there is always a plus side.