Retired Grenadier Guard and Hampshire resident, Carl Shaldrake reflects on his career as a soldier this Armistice Day as he thanks Help for Heroes for helping him move forward after injury

From as far back as I can remember, I wanted to be a soldier. It wasn’t a family tradition or a well-worn path I was expected to follow - no recent family members had served in the military before me. But there was something about the sense of duty, and the idea of being part of something larger than myself that drove me toward the army. At 16, I was living in France and I left behind the life I knew and moved back to the UK to join the British Army, a wide-eyed, naïve teenager stepping into a world I would soon learn was far more complex than I had imagined.

I started my military career with the Grenadier Guards, an infantry regiment with a long and proud heritage. During my time in the forces, I was deployed to Bosnia, Iraq twice, and Afghanistan twice. These deployments were the heart of my military experience, times when I felt the most connected to my comrades and, ironically, the most alive—despite the constant threat of danger. But they were also times marked by immense loss. Over the three Regimental tours of Afghanistan, five of my fellow Grenadiers were killed on each. One of those losses was my own brother Jamie, killed in action by the Taliban. That moment shattered something in me and my unit. It was a heavy, personal loss layered on top of the already profound grief of losing so many others we called family.

In 2007, while deployed in Afghanistan, I was wounded by a suicide bomber. That attack took the life of my driver and left me hospitalised for six months. Despite the physical and emotional toll, I recovered, was promoted, and returned to duty - driven by the belief that I still had more to give, more to prove. But in 2012, I was wounded again, this time by a Taliban IED. After five months spent in hospital, it became clear that my military career was over. The physical damage was too severe, and I was medically discharged. That moment, walking away from the military, felt like another loss. It wasn’t just about leaving a career; it was leaving behind a part of myself, a part I had always believed would define my future.

The transition from soldier to civilian was rough. Though the army provided its processes and resources, which were great, I wasn’t truly ready. I was six months into civilian life, adrift and struggling to find purpose, when Help for Heroes stepped in. They helped me get back into fitness, reconnect with like-minded veterans, and importantly, they helped my wife understand the psychological toll that my experiences had taken on me. They helped me to pivot in a new direction when I desperately needed one, becoming that bridge between my military life and the new version of me.

Carl ShaldrakeCarl Shaldrake Emotionally, the journey has been transformative. I’ve become someone more robust, someone who has had to face incredible hardship and keep moving forward. But there’s also a numbness. I don’t dream often anymore, and I believe this mental stillness has helped me avoid the nightmares and flashbacks that many of my comrades suffer from. It’s strange to say, but the absence of dreams has been a relief—it allows me to rest, at least mentally. The hardest part post-army, however, has been finding a new purpose. All I ever wanted was to be a career soldier. Watching my friends, who joined at the same time as me, come to the end of their military careers is bittersweet. I know they’ll go through similar challenges, and I hope to support them where possible.

Help for Heroes provided support at a time when I felt most vulnerable. They got me back on my feet—literally and figuratively by helping me join a triathlon team and gave me the tools to rebuild my life. I’ve since taken on some of the craziest physical challenges of my life, including Ironman Bolton, Ironman Vichy, and running 100 half marathons in 100 days to raise funds for charity. Through it all, my family has been my rock. My wife, now a professional bodybuilder and HR manager, and my healthy, happy children give me all the reasons I need.

As Armistice Day approaches each year, it serves as a poignant reminder of everything I’ve been through - of the friends and family I’ve lost and the life I once lived. Armistice Day isn’t just a symbol of the past; it’s deeply personal, a time for reflection and reconnection. For some veterans, it’s a day to come together, share stories, and celebrate the lives of those no longer with us. For others, it’s a day to retreat into the quiet, to process in solitude. I’ve found my balance at Brookwood Cemetery in Woking. Each year, I attend the ceremony there, blending moments of quiet reflection with reunions of fellow veterans. It’s a way to honour the dead while also acknowledging the living - those of us who carry the weight of war on our shoulders long after the battles have ended.

Looking back, I see a journey marked by immense sacrifice, but also by resilience and growth. The military was my foundation, and while it no longer defines my day-to-day life, it has shaped the person I am today. Help for Heroes was a lifeline that helped me find my way, but ultimately, it’s the support of my family and the community of veterans around me that keeps me moving forward. On Armistice Day, I remember them all.

If you or someone you know needs support, go to UK Armed Forces and military veterans charity helpforheroes.org.uk