KANDAHAR, Afghanistan - Bumping along on a gravel road Thursday morning, the RG-31 Nyala vehicle shook and shuddered.
Lt.-Col. Wayne Eyre was uncomfortable, but unfazed. On Wednesday, six Canadian died when their vehicle, also a Nyala, was ripped apart by a roadside bomb. Eyre said he still has complete faith in the RG-31 as his vehicle slammed into potholes and thunked over speed bumps en route back to Kandahar Airfield from Spin Boldak, on the Pakistan border.
The Nyala armoured patrol vehicle is considered by the military as its heaviest protection against the scourge of improvised explosive devices or IEDs - commonly known as roadside bombs.
"I still have confidence in the vehicle," he said as the driver squawked out commands over the intercom.
"It's getting us from point A to point B. There's no vehicle in the world that will be an answer for every threat out there."
His sentiment was shared by retired Maj.-Gen. Lewis MacKenzie back in Canada.
"You'll never have a military vehicle that's 100-per-cent safe," MacKenzie said in a telephone interview. "It's just never been invented."
"They all have their vulnerabilities. And in this particular case, with the IED probably being based on an artillery shell that causes penetration, the result was as we saw it yesterday."
Tired from their drive and shaken by the latest deaths, soldiers gathered quietly to the side of the sand-coloured vehicles in Kandahar early Thursday. Like the six men killed Wednesday, members of the force-protection unit navigating the rugged terrain in this RG-31s were due to return home in August.
"This is a wake-up call," said one soldier who didn't want his name used. "What we thought was the safest thing out there maybe isn't."
Tucked into the window panelling of their vehicle were two woollen teddy bears, a gift from a female soldier for good luck.
It was the only soft touch inside the harsh, cramped Nyala, with its plastic seats and awkward seatbelts taking away some of the charm of seeing the Afghan countryside go by through its tinted windows.
The seatbelts are designed to keep soldiers from slamming their heads into the metal ceiling of the vehicles, if and when a blast strikes and pressure waves fill the narrow interior.
The young soldier said it was hard for him to climb into the Nyala in the morning, hard to keep going when the end of his mission is only weeks away.
But Eyre said now is the time for soldiers to work harder than ever before.
"There is a hollow spot, make no doubt about that," he told The Canadian Press in an exclusive interview. "But what we need to do is be strong, and we have to dig deeper than we've ever dug before and carry on with our task here."
In his more than 20 years with the Canadian Forces, Eyre has seen death many times.
In Afghanistan, he heads up the Operational Mentor Liaison Team which helps train the Afghan Army. He's been to farewell ceremonies for their soldiers, and countless ramp ceremonies for his own.
But soldiers of the Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry are special to him.
At least four of those killed Wednesday were from the 3rd Battalion of the Princess Patricia. He had come to know and respect them during his time as commanding officer of the Edmonton-based regiment.
Upon learning of the deaths, Eyre went straight to their side - even though he had left his role as their commanding officer behind in Canada. He did the same in the last week of June when three other men from the battalion were also killed by an IED.
He carries the memories of all the lost soldiers with him.
"You'll never forget them, they'll be with us forever," he said. "We have fairly formalized memorial services but that still doesn't replace personal memories."
The gentle way Eyre called up the memories made the crunching noise of the Nyala moving over gravel fade into the background, the ever-present danger of an IED buried in the loose stones of the unpaved road forgotten for a moment.
He remembered Capt. Matt Dawe as a superb athlete and "a real people person, an all-around great guy."
Eyre served alongside two of Dawe's brothers.
He was "extremely dedicated, a devoted family man, very proud of his family, a young wife, a young son. A tremendous officer, loved by his troops," Eyre said.
He broke into a smile remembering Corp. Jordan Anderson - the smile turned into a slight grimace when the Nyala swerved around the washed-out road.
"He was one of the most articulate soldiers I've ever had the privilege to serve with," Eyre said. "Extremely intelligent. I'm going to miss him giving me good ideas on how to run the battalion."
Pte. Lane Watkins was a quiet team player. "Extremely strong," Eyre said. "He could fire a machine-gun like a pistol."
Cpl. Cole Bartsch always had a smile. "He was always happy, never complaining ... No task was too hard for him."
Eyre said he didn't know Master Cpl. Colin Bason, a reservist from New Westminster, B.C., as well as the others. But he had tremendous respect for him all the same.
A sixth soldier, whose name has been withheld at the request of his family, fit in well with his company, Eyre said.
"Their dedication is something else, to sign up for something like this," he said.
The tension inside the Nyala eased slightly once it's back on paved road, the threat of explosives diminished.
Eyre reflected on grieving with his men.
"There's a significant sense of frustration that the guys can't strike back," he said.
"But they understand the reasons why they can't, and in that their discipline is amazing."
Fighting a war against insurgents means the threat is ever-present, Eyre said.
"I talked to their commanders out there and said you can make every single right decision out there and people still get killed. It's the nature of conflict."
Sixty-six Canadian soldiers and one diplomat have now been killed in Afghanistan.
