Iraqi bandits are not the only enemy British troops have to fight in the Gulf, there is also the fierce heat to contend with.

In the first of their daily reports from Iraq this week, Northern Echo reporter Steve Parsley and photographer Stuart Boulton tell of the trepidation and determination among those ordered to Iraq.

THOUSANDS of soliers will have gone through the "rollercoaster moment" at the end of the runway at Brize Norton, in Oxfordshire.

As the noise of the engines of the aircraft taking you to Iraq builds to a crescendo, suddenly there is a part of you screaming to get off.

Of course, you can do nothing; trapped on the cusp of a moment over which you no longer have control, the aircraft begins to build up momentum, and you can almost feel the invisible bungee rope which ties you to home, family and everything safe tugging at you, so it takes an effort of will to stay in your seat .

But, then something will break the spell; an announcement on the tannoy, perhaps, or a friend's remark, and it is in that moment that you steel yourself for whatever lies ahead.

And, for most, the first enemy is the heat.

The desert in August is a vast, featureless, savage, energy-sapping, unrelenting furnace. Imagine standing in a wind tunnel blowing air heated to more than 50c and you will begin to have some idea of what it is like being in the shade in Basra at the moment.

If you stand in direct sunlight, you can feel the moisture being sucked from your body, and your skin begin to tighten as if you were standing too close to a roaring bonfire.

Even in the dark, there is little or no respite, and the only defence is to drink copious amounts of water.

However, that means more frequent visits to the toilet and, with running water still a luxury that only a few enjoy, facilities are often primitive.

Out in the desert, soldiers have the space to find a little privacy. In the cities, however, portable toilets are the only solution.

Super-heated by the sun, few can survive inside the small plastic cubicles for more than a few minutes; both the smell and the temperature are too overpowering to allow anyone to linger.

But the soldiers' main focus is on the Iraqis themselves, many of whom are trying to carry on as normal in a world which, for them, has taken a lurch into the unknown.

Children are the most resilient. Excited by the sudden and dramatic changes in their environment, they smile and wave at troops and are fascinated by the strangers in their midst, hanging around checkpoints and guardposts and making a nuisance of themselves.

But is the young men who appear to pose the biggest threat to the new order, standing defiant on street corners, gesticulating at troops and sometimes brandishing weapons, it is not always easy to understand their message -and there have been occasions when misunderstandings have proved fatal on either side.

Of course, death is no stranger to Iraq. It has stalked the streets for so long that life is cheap and brute force wins more respect than kindness or consideration.

But, at the moment, British troops are sticking with valuable lessons learned in Northern Ireland, and maybe there is already hope for the future in the smiling faces of the Iraqi children.

* Read tomorrow's Northern Echo for more from Steve Parsley in Basra.