ON 10 JULY 2009, the British army experienced one of its blackest days in the 11 years it has been in Afghanistan. A platoon of riflemen on foot patrol fell victim to a series of IEDs, killing five men and seriously injuring others. Life After War: Haunted by Helmand (BBC3, Wednesday of last week) explored how the survivors were faring.

Not that well, it turns out. On the surface, the commanding officer, Lt. Alex Horsfall, who lost a leg and most of one hand in the explosion, seemed to be managing pretty well with his prosthetics, although his apparently cheerful exterior did not match the pinched cheeks and haunted look in his eyes. The programme followed his attempt to get the surviving members of the platoon together for a reunion.

The others were haunted by nightmares and post-traumatic stress. One was a borderline alcoholic, and had split up with his partner; and none appeared to have fitted back into civilian life. Saddest of all, 20-year-old Allen Arnold - who had not actually been on the fatal patrol - killed himself on his return. His mother, Nicky, spoke with calm dignity about her son. The Army had been the making of him, after a school career troubled by dyslexia and ADHD, but it had also let him down, she said.

In the end, the reunion was deemed a success. But it was a sobering and moving story, slightly marred by an intrusive soundtrack and over-hectic filmography.

There was more food for reflection on Inside Death Row with Trevor McDonald (ITV, Thursday of last week), which took him to Indiana, and revealed an extraordinary mix of brutality and kindness in prison life. Who knew that good behaviour allows a prisoner to keep a cat? The Supervisor, Bill Wilson, is responsible for overseeing the final moments; he goes to great lengths to get to know each man, and takes care to explain the process, step by step. He prays for strength to overcome the feebleness of his own understanding of God's will in all of this.

It became clear that those who do best inside are those who entirely surrender to their destiny, like Dennis, who was locked up at 20 and will be 72 before he is released. In particular, we met Fredrick Baer, who murdered a woman and her four-year-old daughter by slitting their throats. His appeal process is nearly exhausted - he is at point 13 of 16 legal stages - and the outcome seems certain. He assured Sir Trevor that this was just. "I was a cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch. I do deserve to be executed; there's no way round it."

Thank goodness, then, for Call the Midwife (BBC 1, Sunday) to cheer us up. In spite of some critical sniping, ten million viewers beg to disagree, and recently voted Miranda Hart best actress at the National Television Awards for her portrayal of Chummy.

My mother - herself a bicycling midwife at the time the series is set - tuts, and assures me that the memoirs are better than the show. But how fascinating that a programme that is largely about religious faith lived out in the service of an impoverished community should have struck such a chord in the popular imagination. Life, birth, death, and faith: surely, perfect Sunday-night viewing.