This is the story of humanitarian photographer Giles Duley, one of the few Blesma Members to have never been in the military. He was interviewed for Blesma Magazine in 2016.

Giles Duley was an acclaimed fashion and music photographer before he changed direction to focus on documenting humanitarian projects and disasters around the world. Then, in 2011, whilst on patrol with the US Army in Afghanistan, he stood on an IED, losing both legs and an arm.

Giles, who is one of the very few non-military Members of Blesma, has since returned to the work he loves, taking pictures in troubled countries across the globe. We caught up with him on the phone while he was working in Lebanon to find out more about his remarkable story…

How did you initially become a photographer?

When I was 18, I was involved in a car accident and smashed my knees up. While I was recuperating in hospital, my godfather passed away. His widow came to see me and gave me two things he’d bought the week he died; an Olympus camera and a book by the war photographer Don McCullin. It was full of black and white images from places like Biafra and Bangladesh, and I was incredibly moved by them. I resolved to work in photography, and immediately started practising by photographing the doctors and (mainly) the nurses!

And you became a well-known music photographer...

I had friends in bands, so I took pictures of them. Before I knew it, I was travelling the world, hanging out with musicians and models in Miami and LA. I thought I was great, and war suddenly seemed a lot less interesting. I did that for about 10 years, but became disillusioned and couldn’t shake the feeling that I could be doing something more worthwhile. I stopped taking pictures and became a carer for an autistic boy called Nick.

How did being a carer lead you to humanitarian work?

Nick had trouble getting people to understand how bad he sometimes felt. He would self-harm and, after a while, I started taking pictures of him, including when he hurt himself. In a small way, that helped the medics understand Nick more deeply, and so got him better care. I suddenly saw that, through my images, I could become an advocate for someone else.

So you decided to head to the world’s war zones?

Yes. I went to Angola first, took some nice-looking images, managed to get them published... They were acclaimed, but after a while I came to realise that there hadn’t been much point to them. I resolved to talk to NGOs and find out which stories they thought needed to be told more effectively. I went to Bangladesh and South Sudan. I saw some difficult things that made me question whether I could do the job. I remember being in the same room as a dying boy soldier at one point. I didn’t know if I could – or even should – photograph him, but an Australian doctor who was working in the hospital told me the reason he did aid work in Africa was because he had been inspired by photographs in National Geographic when he was growing up. I then realised that, even though I couldn’t change the world, I might be able to influence someone who would.

And you eventually travelled to Afghanistan…

I wanted to document what war meant. I was drawn to what caused all this destruction. I was in Kandahar, close to the epicentre of it all, embedded with the 75^th Cavalry Regiment. We were on patrol when I stepped on an IED. I remember lying on my side and feeling an intense heat. My legs were gone. I’d seen people with far lesser injuries succumb, but I thought; ‘I’m not dying in Afghanistan.’ I concentrated on staying alive for 10 minutes, until I got to hospital, then I went into a coma. I’d used up everything my body had to stay alive.

The whole thing was filmed, too…

The Canadian medics who evacuated me in the Chinook were wearing helmet cameras. I didn’t know they were filming at the time, though – I had other things on my mind! I have watched the footage. Seeing the moment when you think you’re going to die is very strange. I must admit though, that when I saw the still images from inside the Medevac helicopter, my first thought was; ‘I would have cropped that image differently.’

Tell us about your recovery…

I spent 46 days in intensive care. Nobody thought I’d pull through. The doctors called my family to my bedside twice to say goodbye. I was eventually discharged, but I was told I’d never live independently, walk or even work again. At first I was disgusted by how I looked. I wished I hadn’t made it! But then my stubbornness kicked in. I thought; ‘I’ve spent my career photographing people like me, empowering them.’ Now I had to do it to myself. The biggest thing I learned from the experience was how much photography meant to me. From Day One, I resolved to return to the work I loved. If I could do that, nothing else would matter.

And you returned to Afghanistan…

By that time I’d had 37 operations, I’d learned to walk again, I’d learned to hold a camera again... I wanted to document civilian injury so, 18 months after I was blown up, I was back in Kabul taking pictures. There was a real irony that I’d set out to do this story and had now gone through the same thing myself. It gave me a new insight. Who better was there to tell it?

What have you learned about the power of photography from your experiences?

You shouldn’t take the pictures people want to see. Often, people are laughing in my photos – you don’t have to show that life is awful if you’re photographing a drug addict or a refugee camp. I got a letter recently from someone who said he had used one of my photos as inspiration when he felt like giving up on his studies. Now he is in medical school. That made me feel like I’d achieved my goal; to help just one person who might one day make a very real difference.

And you’re a non-military Member of Blesma...

Because I was injured with soldiers, in a war zone, I was accepted into Headley Court. It was there that I learned to walk again, and where I met the Blesma guys. Photography can be a powerful recovery tool, it certainly was for me.