This story is from the spring 2025 edition of VICE magazine: THE ROCK BOTTOM ISSUE. To subscribe to receive 4 print issues of our newly relaunched magazine each year, click here.

In 1989, as rave’s ‘Second Summer of Love’ sprawled across the UK, Stuart Griffiths joined the British Army’s Parachute Regiment, 3rd Battalion—otherwise known as 3 Para—and was deployed to Northern Ireland during The Troubles.

Aged just 17, the keen photographer captured his Army experiences with no filter, from perilous combat patrols to testosterone-fueled hazing rituals and drug-spangled hi-jinx.

After leaving the Army, Griffiths built a new career with his camera, shooting often for VICE and winning awards for his work. But ever-present were marks left on him by his time in the Forces, not least the label of “para,” an identity that to many carries more negative connotations than good. What started as a young man’s aspirational journey unraveled over time into a violent, toxic mess, culminating in a PTSD diagnosis in 2018.

Now, Griffiths is releasing the second and third books in his Glory of War trilogy: Paratripper and The Sick Parade. The first instalment—the photo-memoir Pigs Disco—lifted its title from a barracks slang term for the nights when local women would be invited in to drink and cavort with soldiers. Upon its initial release, the book’s candid portrayal of Army life made him a pariah among former colleagues.

We called up Griffiths for a chat about life, work, hate, and pain.

VICE: How have the Army and other paras reacted to your work?
Dr. Stuart Griffiths: I wrote Pigs Disco, a book about paratroopers getting off their heads on acid, and the witch hunt began. I got so much shit online from former comrades: hate, death threats… I could’ve written some far-right book supporting Tommy Robinson and no one would’ve cared. But that’s where we’re at.

In 2019, I went to the unveiling of the airborne memorial [commemorative statue in Aldershot, England, where the paras were based for 50 years] in my beret and blazer with my medals and all that bollocks. The people who’d been so hostile online didn’t do a thing. It was bizarre, but also cathartic, putting those demons to rest.

What’s it like, going from the paras to a PhD thesis via freelance photography?
It’s been a journey. You can get into some really dark places. When I joined 3 Para I’d been thinking of joining the band, but I went for a few beers in the NAAFI [barracks social club] that night and someone said, “You don’t join the paras to be a fucking saxophone player…” Soon, I was in Northern Ireland and the rest is history.

How central is that label of ‘being a para’ to the books?
These books are about the weight of that label I’ve carried since 17; about how my life has been a perpetual struggle ever since leaving the regiment in 1993. I’ve tried to be judged on my own terms, to be recognized as a photographer, to become a better human being. But that tag has always been there.

Paras were vilified after Bloody Sunday¹, heroes during the Falklands War, then vilified again in 1992 because of what happened in the Falklands². Many in society see paratroopers as a British state version of the Waffen SS. In some ways you’re respected, but also never quite forgiven.

How did your PhD shape the books?
It was a one-way journey into the abyss. After everything I’d gone through with Pigs Disco, doing the PhD meant I had to go back and get intimate stories from the same sorts of people. Delving back into my own time in the Army was a struggle. I guess toxic masculinity got the better of me.

In terms of the doctorate getting me that £80k salary, like we were told it would, that’s not quite how it’s worked out… Towards the end of 2018, I had to sign on [for state benefits] again. That was when I eventually got my PTSD diagnosis. I’ve had to do therapy, talking over traumas like the joyrider shootings³, the dead bodies, riots…

Have your views on the military changed since?
I don’t think so. All I’ve seen through what I’ve done in the Army is a lot of pain and a lot of people getting messed up. I think I’m a better person for it now, but I wouldn’t recommend the military to anyone. With photography, I thought I was finding meaning to life, some holy grail… But all I found was another load of trauma.

Do you think of yourself as a veteran today?
People typically think of ‘a veteran’ as a right-wing flag-shagger, but that’s not what I am. There’s still a lot of anger, but I want to channel it in a positive way, not by protesting next to some far-right dickhead. The books are my way of saying, “There it is, that’s me. Done.” I play in a free-jazz improv band called PIP now; I want to interpret everything I’ve done through harmony and the alto saxophone.

Paratripper is out soon through Yellow Press.

1. On January 30, 1972, British forces shot at unarmed civilians during a protest march in Derry, Northern Ireland, killing 14 and injuring at least 15 more. ↩︎
2. According to accounts corroborated by British soldiers involved in the Falklands conflict, some Argentines were shot dead after they had surrendered, while in other cases the corpses of Argentine soldiers had their ears hacked off as trophies—claims apparently ignored at the time by top brass in the British military. ↩︎
3. On 30 September, 1990, Private Lee Clegg and other British soldiers manning a checkpoint in West Belfast opened fire on a stolen Vauxhall Astra that passed through at high speed. Two teenage joyriders died at the scene, while a third escaped with minor injuries. After being sentenced to life for murder in 1993, Clegg was released under licence in 1995, which led to rioting in Irish nationalist areas of Belfast and a series of appeals that ultimately cleared the British soldier of any criminal wrongdoing. ↩︎

This story is from the spring 2025 edition of VICE magazine: THE ROCK BOTTOM ISSUE. To subscribe to receive 4 print issues of our newly relaunched magazine each year, click here.