Motion made, and Question proposed, That this House do now adjourn.—(Andrew Stephenson.)

I am very grateful to Mr Speaker for granting me an Adjournment Debate this evening, as we mark 20 years since British armed forces crossed from Kuwait into Iraq. Operation Telic—the Iraq war—had begun, and many lives would change forever. By its end in 2011, 179 members of our armed forces had made the ultimate sacrifice for our country, and it is a solemn privilege to pay tribute to them tonight, and to all who served on Telic.

As a veteran of the campaign, I had the privilege of knowing some of the 179. I served two tours, from February 2003 as the adjutant of 3 Para, and then again in 2004 as a deployed staff officer from the Permanent Joint Headquarters. Twenty years on, it is understandable that differing views are still held on the decision to deploy military force in Iraq, and the role that the UK played, but I focus my remarks tonight on commemorating those who stepped forward to serve and on those who did not come home.

All conflicts have their own unique characteristics, and Telic posed a particular set of threats, not least the heat and the sand, which got everywhere, but also the terrifying prospect of chemical warfare. Thousands of veterans will remember what it was like deployed in the desert, as do I. Chemical warfare drills were practised as soon as members of our armed forces deployed to Kuwait at the start of 2003. We will all remember one simple, but deadly word, shouted three times: “Gas. Gas. Gas.” That was the signal to put on our respirators. In the intense heat on the hot sand, and often in pitch black, we kept them on for long periods while wearing thick protective suits. There were no complaints, because we knew that the threat was real, and we practised the drills again and again.

Outside of military and fitness training, church services were held and attended by believers and non-believers alike. Padres provided private counsel to those who sought it on what the burning cauldron of conflict might bring. Most of us kept our thoughts to ourselves, and cracked on as best we could. The camaraderie was comforting to us all, and we took pride in serving our regiments and our country.

I am grateful to the hon. Gentleman, who has long been a doughty champion for those who serve. I completely agree with the point he made about supporting the armed forces charities, which do extraordinary work supporting those who serve. I also completely agree with the point he made about veterans, and I will come to that point in just a moment in my speech.

I was reflecting on what life was like in the desert, and was about to make the point that contact with home was very limited, through the odd precious phone call and “blueys”—airmail letters. However, there was always the radio, and to this day, the theme played on the BBC World Service, “Lillibullero”, instantly takes me back to that time in the desert 20 years ago. Looking back, I remember the quiet fear about what was coming, but I also remember the resolute determination to do our jobs and to look out for our soldiers.

When British forces did finally cross the line of departure into Iraq, they would conduct themselves with extraordinary bravery and professionalism. There is not time tonight to do justice to all those courageous acts during Telic. Instead, I will list the awards for gallantry received between 2003 and 2011: 23 Queen’s Gallantry Medals, five George Medals, two Air Force Crosses, 18 Distinguished Flying Crosses, 85 Military Crosses, one Distinguished Service Cross, nine Royal Red Crosses, 15 Conspicuous Gallantry Crosses, 18 Distinguished Service Orders, three Orders of the Bath, two George Crosses and one Victoria Cross, awarded to Private Johnson Beharry of the Princess of Wales’s Royal Regiment. Through those awards, all three branches of our armed forces were rightly recognised for their outstanding contributions.

Out of those decorated for acts of gallantry, some did not live to receive their awards—making the ultimate sacrifice for our country, thousands of miles away from home in Iraq. In total, 179 lives were lost, with families and loved ones left to grieve and to carry the pain of loss for the rest of their lives.

He did indeed, and I am very grateful to the hon. Member for making reference to that. He does so at a most opportune moment, because I was literally about to refer to two men who I will be thinking about tonight, who also made the ultimate sacrifice and did not come home: Private Kelly, of A company, 3 Para—Andy was 18 years old—and Major Bacon. Matt was an outstanding officer in the Intelligence Corps and a friend from Sandhurst. I will never forget them, nor all of those who fell.

I recently visited the National Memorial Arboretum, where I stood in contemplative silence, reading the names on the memorial wall. I also looked at the willow trees grown in memory of those who fell in Iraq, each dedicated to a life cut short. It was a poignant but calming reminder of the price paid and the enduring loss.

I am very grateful to the hon. and gallant Gentleman, and I completely agree with his analysis. It is absolutely right that we take this opportunity to pay tribute to those who served, and of course in particular to those who sacrificed.

While, of course, we will never forget those who fell in the service of our country, we should also tonight remember the 5,791 members of our armed forces who were injured in the course of their service on Telic. Some recovered quickly and fully, returning to service. Others, however, still live with their injuries. Some are physical and visible, but others sustained mental injuries that are less visible, but no less severe. We must support them all, because we owe them a debt of gratitude—a debt of gratitude that must be paid in full. So it is vital that, in this place, we work together for injured veterans of Telic, and of all conflicts, to ensure that we do right by them.

It is absolutely right that we reflect tonight, 20 years on, on the courage, hardship and loss of those who served, and in particular the families that lost loved ones who did not come home. The Iraq war still casts a long Shadow over so many lives, and on decisions being made today. History will continue to review why it happened, but the truth of what happened—the experiences of those who stepped forward—will always endure. The legacy of Iraq should not lock us into inaction; it must spur us to look our recent past in the eye, learn from it and be better. It is our sombre duty never to forget and to commemorate milestones such as this, as, after every conflict, time can be the greatest unraveller of our collective memory. Time is also a privilege of the living, and out of reach for the 179 who fell in Iraq. They have taken their place in a long line of others who came before and follow after them—the fallen. While we grow old, they cannot, and while we remember, they cannot, so we will remember them today, 20 years on, and forever more. Thank you for your service.

Adam Holloway has the permission of the Member who has secured this debate and of the Minister responding to make a short contribution, and I have been informed.

Thank you, Mr Deputy Speaker, for allowing me to do so. It is a great pleasure to follow my thoughtful and distinguished friend’s speech—Dan Jarvis is a proper professional soldier, who does not feel the need to gob-off about his military service in this place. I also thank the Minister, who currently serves as a royal naval reservist on the active list.

I was in Iraq for both Gulf wars—in 1991 as a soldier, and 20 years ago as a correspondent. As my distinguished friend says, today we remember the 179 servicemen and women who died in Iraq, and we pay tribute to their bravery and professionalism. They have always given such service, seeking to protect our constituents, but they were committed to it and the subsequent almost two decades of war by people here and in Ministries immediately around us. I regret that, over these years, our forces have too often been let down by the decisions of those near here and in this place.

At Sandhurst, as my friends here will recall, virtually the first point we were told was that we use violence—extreme violence—only in support of a clear set of political objectives. In Iraq and Afghanistan since 9/11, those political objectives were never clear, and through our negligence and indeed ignorance we have often cast many millions of people in these places into frankly unimaginable insecurity, because we would rip down structures that pre-existed and that held these places together.

I remember very well the early morning that Mosul fell. American jets were coming down low and there were bodies in the streets—retribution was taking place. I remember a mob wheeling incubators out of the hospital, looting—just looting everywhere. It was the only place as a correspondent that I ever armed my team. It was that dangerous.

I went to the police headquarters and there were all these Saddam Hussein lookalikes. I was staggered when the Mosul police chief said to me, because he knew I was going to see the small American contingent at an airfield, “Will you please get them to come up and see me, because I want my instructions about what they want us to do?” That was astonishing, frankly. Mosul had just fallen and he was prepared to co-operate with the Americans to do the right thing.

I went to the airfield and I did my business with this American colonel. I said, “Look, the Iraqi general is very keen that you go up and see him and tell him what you want.” He said, “You can go right up there yourself and you can tell him to eff himself.” At that point I thought, “Yeah, you know, we haven’t really thought this through. Where are we going with this?”

Anyway, the rest is history in Iraq, and to a degree that tragedy plays on today. I do not have time to go through the disaster that followed in Afghanistan, where, again, our troops did magnificently but, through poor planning by us, basically, we again tore down existing structures thinking that somehow we knew better. Well, we have been here before. Back in 1851, John Kaye said of an earlier war in Afghanistan:

“A strange moral blindness clouded the vision of our statesmen: they saw only the natural, the inevitable results of their own measures, and forgot that those measures were the dragon’s teeth from which sprang up armed men.”

We pay tribute tonight to the veterans, and we remember all those who died in these wars, especially those from our own armed forces. But we should also hope that in the future people in this House and surrounding Ministries honour the risks that they take by having a proper plan for what comes next. That is the least we can promise our troops.

I very much welcome the opportunity that Dan Jarvis has provided to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the start of Operation Telic. I want to begin by paying tribute to him, both for his own outstanding service and for his deeply moving tribute to those with whom he served and the veterans he champions.

For me, too, Iraq is personal. Somewhat ironically, having opposed the war here, I was recalled to serve as a battle group medical officer during Telic 2. I have expressed my feelings about the Iraq war on a number of occasions and I will not rehearse them again today. Suffice it to say that lessons learned were dearly bought. Even now, Sir John Chilcot’s landmark inquiry is helping to set the contours for the way we see discretionary, expeditionary warfare. I think it is fair to say that few of us at the time anticipated the long shadows that would be cast by Operations Telic and Herrick.

Whatever one’s views of the wisdom and judgment of those who preceded us, it is unarguable that our brave men and women stepped up to the plate as only soldiers, sailors and aviators can. Despite enormous pressure, they went on to do remarkable things. It is their service and sacrifice that I want to reflect on tonight, as the hon. Gentleman did. As I do so, and as a Wiltshire MP who represents a garrison town, I remember the silence—the silence of Royal Wootton Bassett as the flag-draped coffins rolled by.

Of course, we make decisions in this place that change lives all the time, but the consequences of some are more stark—more vivid—than others. As the hon. Gentleman remarked, Operation Telic involved a vast military effort. It was one of the largest deployments since the end of world war two and involved all three services. Some 46,000 troops were deployed, among them 9,500 reservists. The UK sent 19 warships, 14 Royal Fleet Auxiliary Service vessels, 15,000 vehicles, 115 fixed-wing aircraft and nearly 100 helicopters. They in turn were supported in the United Kingdom and elsewhere by an army of civilians and contractors. Many of those individuals would never have experienced a conflict remotely like this one. Some would have served as peacekeepers in Bosnia and Kosovo. Some would even have taken part in the first Gulf war to liberate Kuwait, yet that conflict was won within 42 days. This one dragged on for years.

Yet, as I recall, in the early days, hopes had been high for a swift resolution thanks to an impressive series of lightning successes. Overcoming stiff resistance, our forces achieved their first objective at the port of Umm Qasr. They then moved on to take Basra, Iraq’s second largest city. Again, the 7th Armoured Brigade, the famous Desert Rats, despite participating in the biggest tank battle by UK forces since the second world war and despite constant harrying from Iraqi regular troops and Fedayeen militia, emerged victorious. Within a month, the UK, alongside its coalition allies, had accomplished nearly all its military goals. The brutal dictator Saddam Hussein had fled. His regime had evaporated. Key infrastructure had been secured. And cheering crowds congregated on Baghdad streets to welcome coalition forces and topple Saddam’s vainglorious statute into the dust. Meanwhile, stringent targeting and unprecedented use of precision weapons had kept UK and Iraqi casualties to a minimum.

But that was the high point. As the late Sir John Chilcot documented in his report, there had been a shocking lack of preparation for regime change. What followed was a bitter and bloody insurgency. Mobs murdered Royal Military police. An RAF Hercules was shot out of the sky. Soldiers were ambushed by snipers. Fighters were attacked with machine guns and rocket-propelled grenades. The improvised explosive device became a staple of the news bulletins. Borne by vehicles, buried in the ground or dumped in piles of rubbish, the notorious IEDs claimed and maimed many lives. By the time the UK left in 2011, thousands had been wounded and 179 British troops had paid the ultimate price. Today, our thoughts and prayers are with the loved ones of all who lost their lives and who suffered life-changing injuries.

My hon. Friend is absolutely right, of course; as a soldier, he knows full well the horrors of war and what war means. No Government would join battle willingly and, as I said in my early remarks, lessons have been learned from this pair of conflicts that we have had in the 21st century. Only a very imprudent Government would embark upon such an initiative or initiatives now, knowing what we now know about the nature and consequences of this kind of operation and the long Shadow that it casts—in the case of Iraq, of course, we are living with it still. Some, I am afraid, live with it more than others.

Twenty years on, the Iraq war remains deeply controversial and contested. Whether it was for good or ill, the decisions taken then have continued to shape our attitude to military interventionism. Yet although we can continue to debate the politics, what is not up for discussion is the fact that the soldiers, sailors and aviators of Operation Telic at no point gave less than their all. Those who wear the Iraq campaign medal should do so with pride. It is also worth reflecting that today Iraq and the UK share a close and enduring bond, as well as a determination to defeat Daesh finally and for good, and a desire to enjoy peace and stability.

This afternoon, I had the very great privilege of laying a wreath at the Iraq and Afghanistan memorial that stands just outside the MOD main building. It is a powerful sculpture, carved out of Portland stone—unusual in that it contains no names of the fallen. In fact, only two words are etched on to its smooth surface: “duty” and “service”. The veterans of Operation Telic did their duty. Their service was exemplary. They were, and remain, the very best of us.

It is right that we commemorate the bravery of our service personnel and the ultimate sacrifice of the 179. I thank you, Mr Jarvis, for bringing this debate to Parliament today. We will remember them. We have today.

Question put and agreed to.

House adjourned.