Reporter Richard Edwards, of the Western Daily Press, is in Iraq with 42 Commando Royal Marines. Here he tells of the hardships of life "on the hoof" with a fighting force.

Five days ago I entered Iraq. Six days ago I had my last proper wash and change of clothes. My last decent meal and morning lie-in I cannot remember.

This is the life of an "embedded" reporter - a life on the hoof with the Royal Marines where "sleep is for the weak" and food is designed to negate your need to go to the toilet.

Glamorous it is not.

When I entered Iraq I expected to see the firefights, hear the explosions, taste and smell life and its frailty in the face of war.

Much of this I have done. But I did not expect to spend quite so long trying to shave, digging a different trench to sleep in each night, or craving a piece of toast with Marmite in the mornings.

It is the little things that everyone misses.

For the past half week I have awoken, alongside Marines, in the strange, cold and featureless surroundings of southern Iraq.

Immediately the day fits into routine.

The Commandos rise between 3 and 5am and make a "wet" - a brew made with as much instant tea powder as white sugar.

Rations follow for breakfast, ranging from the delicious hamburger and beans mix to corned beef hash or meatballs in tomato sauce.

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