Angie Moore is reflecting on a profound loss as the 10th anniversary of the end of British combat operations in Afghanistan approaches. Her son, Private Gregg Stone, lost his life while attempting a rescue mission in Helmand Province on June 3, 2012, amidst a conflict that claimed the lives of 457 British servicemen and women.
“I had to fight back tears when I heard that song on the car radio yesterday,” Angie shares, referring to “Little Lion Man” by Mumford & Sons, a band Gregg adored. The poignant lyrics resonate with her; the song was a favorite among him and his big sister, Jennie, who had even planned to take him to a concert while he was on leave.
Tragically, the concert never happened. On that fateful June day, Gregg, 20, was shot while trying to rescue an Afghan policeman held hostage by the Taliban. At the time, his wife, Samantha, was pregnant with their first child.
Angie recalls the immense heartbreak she felt after losing Gregg, which was only compounded eight months later when Jennie, 28, died in a car crash. “It was a nightmare to lose Gregg, but then to lose Jennie eight months after—it was just unbelievable,” she says. “Every morning, I would wake up hoping it was all a dream, but it never was. Some days are still a nightmare for me.”
Even now, Angie wears a metaphorical mask to face the world. “I still try to keep it together, but certain songs or photographs can trigger memories that bring everything rushing back,” she confides. Yet, despite the pain, she clings to the happy memories she holds of her children.
Angie raised Gregg, Jennie, and her four other children in Atwick, East Yorkshire, where Gregg’s name is inscribed on the local war memorial. She feels a sense of fading memory regarding Afghanistan and the sacrifices made there, lamenting, “People don’t remember it. The world is forgetting.”
Now living near Scarborough with a view of the North Sea, Angie often sits on a bench dedicated to “Jennie Wren,” lost in thought and recollections of better times. Inside her home, Pte Stone’s Army dog tags hang alongside his medals and photographs, a testament to his bravery and sacrifice.
“Afghanistan changed us,” she reflects. “We all became different people. I especially felt empty, like part of me is missing. Some family rifts have mended, while others remain.”
Ten years after the end of British combat operations, public sentiment remains divided. A BBC poll from that time revealed that 68% of respondents thought involvement in Afghanistan was not worthwhile. With the Taliban’s resurgence in 2021, voices of dissent have grown louder. Angie listens to critics of the war, but she recalls a heartfelt email from Gregg during his deployment, stating, “Mum, if anyone tells you we shouldn’t be here, take no notice… We’re doing good.”
“What hurts me is when people say it was a waste of time,” she states, her voice thick with emotion. “That’s like saying my son died for nothing. His life had meaning; he knew why he was there.”
Looking at a clock adorned with Gregg’s image superimposed on the union flag, Angie muses, “That photo—you can hardly recognize him. It’s the only one where he’s not smiling.” She explains that it was taken as part of a military protocol in case of a soldier’s death, a grim reminder of the sacrifices made.
The memories of her son remain vivid in her mind. “Gregg was my laughing boy; he was full of life and humor,” she says. “He would have been a great father.”
Though grappling with her immense loss remains a lifelong journey, Angie is resolute. “You have to get through for your family and your own sanity. But that doesn’t define me. I’m not just the woman who lost two children; I’m Angie.”
As Remembrance Day nears, she urges, “Remember everyone, from every conflict and every country—every son, every daughter, every husband, every wife. It’s not just about the World Wars.”
