We knew before Andrew went over there that Stuart would be going to Iraq. His unit would be supporting the Marines.

I felt like a mother in labor waiting for you to arrive all day.

There were always fistfights. You would hear, 'He hit me,' constantly.

That (with a roadside bomb) was the only way they'd take him over there (in Iraq).

At this time of day it should have been open and full of fifty fellow smackheads, crackheads, psychotics, epileptics, schizophrenics, self-harmers, beggars, buskers, car thieves, sherry pushers, ciderheads, just-released-that-morning convicts, ex-army, ex-married-men-with-young-children-who'd-discovered-their-wife-in-bed-with-two-members-of-the-university-rowing-team-at-the-same-time.

We knew that if they throw the bomb, they throw it to No. 14 (6-foot-4 senior Stuart Pierce).