THE SATURDAY BIG READ

I fell in love very quickly and it wasn’t long before I asked her to marry me.

Over the next few years we had a son and daughter and while life in the Army with two small kids was rarely quiet, we were happy and hopeful.

But in April 2006 the unimaginable happened: Caroline was diagnosed with bowel cancer. Although we had come to understand there was some minor problem, the thought it might be cancer just hadn’t crossed our minds.

And now, from nowhere, completely unexpectedly, the C-word was being used. Caroline was very upset but quickly regained her composure.

I had decided to be as ruthlessly positive as I could possibly be. I didn’t want to unmask the terrible fear I felt because I knew I had to be strong for her.

We agreed both to stay as positive as possible. I tried to cope by being useful and keeping busy. But I was angry. Angry that Caroline, of all people, was having to go through this ordeal.

I was desperately frustrated that there wasn’t anything I could really do to make it go away. There was an allconsuming feeling of powerlessness and it proved very difficult to manage.

For once I didn’t feel I could just put it in my coping box.

Surgeons thought an operation had got all the cancer but in 2008 it returned. Chemotherapy was prescribed and Caroline began a punishing routine which continued until early 2010.

Her health continued to deteriorate. I never ever gave up but there came a moment when I had to acknowledge where this was leading. I had to start accepting that the cancer was probably going to win. That it would take her from me. That I would lose her. That I would be left on my own with the kids.

I had always looked around the corner to think about what was coming next and to try and get ready for it.

But, for the first time, I couldn’t bear to look round that next corner, nor was I able to shove it in my coping box.

ON an endurance march we spent days manoeuvring around the Yorkshire countryside, grabbing the odd hour of rest whenever we could.

We eventually received orders over the radio to return to base and rendezvous with an “agent” who would assist us. We lay in the rain for hours.

Two hours after nightfall a car quietly drove into the car park. I was tasked to go forward and make contact with the

Maybe the box was full or maybe this didn’t belong in the box. I don’t know which – I just knew I couldn’t discard the worry in the way I always had.

I steeled myself. The final few weeks were awful. I was caring for Caroline at home with support from a nurse who came in every day.

We strove to maintain the normal routine with me getting the kids ready for school and then bringing Caroline agent to confirm. I moved out of the thick undergrowth as stealthily as I could manage, my frozen limbs struggling to work, shattered from the effects of the cold.

Rather than go straight to the driver’s window, and despite my drenched,