Sleeping in a Palace
Monday 30th April
Green smoke billowed out across the HLZ as the Blackhawk flared out to land. Security was tight on the perimeter, but Colonel Nickelson’s Personal Security Detail (PSD) still behaved like they were his only protection in the whole of Afghanistan.
Nickelson is what is known as a “Full Bird Colonel,” meaning he is an actual Colonel, as opposed to Colonel Howard, who is in fact a Lieutenant Colonel. Nickelson is the big cheese, and is treated as such. He had arrived at Barg-e-Matal to attend a Shura, and with his presence he was underlining the seriousness of the US commitment to this town and area.
Once Colonel Howard met with Nickelson it was a quick march into town. I hung back from the crowd, with MSG B’s words in my ears. “Don’t get caught in an RPG cluster.” This is his description of people bunching up while in the open, providing a temping target to a proficient RPG gunner. He is a stickler for these kinds of details, and repeats them constantly. With all the personal security personnel plus various officers accompanying Col Nickelson it wasn’t hard to imagine one well placed shot causing massive casualties.
Once again the Shura was to be conducted outside, in a clearing beside the river, with trees providing shade. With all the snow melting, the river is extremely fast flowing at this time of year, and so a very pleasant breeze comes off it. Coupled with the shade of the overhanging trees, it is an ideal place to sit and relax. Unfortunately the area is over-looked by high features, mountains, on both sides of the river, and I couldn’t help thinking it would also make a tempting target to any insurgent that wanted to disrupt the US visit.
I sat on the perimeter with MSG B and some of his ANA. This spot in the shade had been our location for a few days now, and as well as watching the Shura we had a perfect view of the stone throwing games going on to the West. Young children would sneak up behind us, or peak out from gaps in fences nearby, and sometimes they would even pear over the roof above us. As soon as we caught their eye they would dart away though, so it became a kind of game to while away the time.
Then, not very long into the Shura, it started to break up. Col Nickelson was escorted out, and other senior figures put on their armour and helmets, preparing to leave. MSG B got on the radio to find out what was going on, but then Capt G walked over to us. News had just come through that Fazal Ahad, second in charge of the Security Shura for all of Nuristan Province, and who should have been present at this Shura, had been murdered close to Kamdesh base. His car had been stopped at an illegal checkpoint and he was detained while the other passengers were told they could stay and die, or run for their lives. They ran. Then Ahad was shot in the head. Once his murderers had fled, his body was taken to Kamdesh base, who had radioed the news to Barg-e-Matal.
The killing of Ahad was a major blow to Nuristan. Not only did it deprive the Shura of a capable man, but in a larger sense it showed that security in this province is far from certain. By killing such a senior figure the insurgents showed that they can operate freely, and that it is dangerous to oppose them. It is believed that Ahad was executed because of his public support of the Afghan Government. The Shura that I was at in Papriastan on the 25th April was a pro-government rally, but as soon as the US and ANA soldiers I was with left the village, things changed. Some men stood up to speak, and they condemned the Afghan Government, condemned the ANA, and condemned all Afghans who worked with the Coalition. Ahad stood up to speak against them. It is believed that it was for this act that he was killed.
Now, in Barg-e-Matal, people were upset and angry. Ahad was from this town, and so the people were concerned with recovering his body and burying him before dawn, in accordance with Islamic tradition. Due to the heavy snow melt and rains, the river had burst the banks in many areas, and the road was washed out in many places. This is common, and the pick-up’s that many people drive in this area allow them to navigate over many of these washouts, but it makes for very difficult, slow, and often dangerous travel. The US commanders stepped in at this point, and offered to divert one of the Blackhawk helicopters in the area to Kamdesh, to collect the body and fly it to Barg-e-Matal. Cynics might say it was an offer meant to curry favour with the residents of Barg-e-Matal, but I believe it was a genuinely kind act. As one officer said, “It’s the least we can do for these people now.” After all, Ahad was killed for supporting Americans.
All US personnel departed Barg-e-Matal for the temporary base outside town, while the ETT and ANA element was left behind. The idea was to provide security for the town while Ahad’s remains were transported by the people to the Mosque. We moved across the river and up the hill, and waited on the edge of town. Soon enough we could see people walking back towards town, carrying a small platform, maybe a low table originally, covered with a white sheet. There was blood soaking through it. As the crowd approached MSG B was still getting instructions over the radio, and then we were caught up in the swarm of people. I have covered lots of political marches, protests, and riots, and I know the dynamics of a mob, and how to work within it. There is a certain feel to it, and you can usually sense when the mood changes. The mood here was bad, but we were already moving with them towards the Mosque. I felt stares of anger, and I thought that we shouldn’t stay too long in this situation. I managed to find MSG B in the crowd, and while he agreed, he had his orders. I could see that he was concerned for my safety, and so I stayed as close to him as I could in the throng. Once across the bridge the crowed gathered in the open space, and I decided not to venture in. We were just too vulnerable in the crowd, and I knew from experience that the sorrow and frustration could turn to anger and violence in a split second. So I climbed up some stairs and photographed the scene from above. I could see MSG B trying to consolidate his ANA, and I called to him to let him know I was safe. Just as he saw me the crowd moved again. He was swept along with them, and I knew he would be long gone by the time I climbed down. I cursed my stupidity for getting into a situation I couldn’t exit quickly, but it was too late by then. When I got back to the ground the crowd was moving fast down the route the body had been carried, with no sign of anyone I recognised. I knew I was in a potentially very dangerous situation now. If insurgents had infiltrated the gathering then it would not be hard to use the crowd to hide an attempt to attack or kidnap me. I considered my options I saw some kids run behind a house, and I realised that if the line of houses ran parallel to the street, I could cut back there, and hopefully get ahead of the crowd. Of course I could also run into trouble, as a back alley is a dangerous place in any part of the world, but at that stage my choices were limited. Staying in one place, looking lost and confused, was certainly not going to help my situation. With a deep breath I darted in behind the line of kids, and ran. Women and children scattered at the sight of an unexpected Westerner, for which I was grateful, as it meant my path was clear down this narrow alley. The alley veered off from the direction of the road, and just as I was starting to think I was getting myself deeper into trouble rather than out of it, the passageway opened out onto a swampy area. I could now see the head of the funeral procession, and I picked my way through the water and mud and then I saw MSG B. I think he was as relieved to see me as I was to see him. He was talking to a senior policeman from the town, who was telling him that it wasn’t safe to stay in town. He told us we should leave, and take the ANA with us. I agreed, as this situation was deteriorating fast. We were now deeper in town, within an area that would be very difficult to fight our way out of should things turn really ugly, and we were further from the bridge, and base, and therefore further from where any Quick Reaction Force (QRF) would come from to provide assistance.
MSG B had by now consolidated his people, and with the funeral procession moving on, it was getting easier to move. He radioed back to base to say we were heading back, and we moved off at a brisk pace. We both agreed that we had been very lucky to get out of the situation without trouble.
Back at the base, the wind was picking up, and storm clouds were overhead. Col Nickelson had flown out, and with him went a lot of the senior people, so there were fewer left at the base. Everyone else would leave in the morning, and so we had one more night to get through. With a storm imminent, soldiers were already abandoning the tarpaulin shelters and moving their gear into the building. Regardless of my concerns about being in the main target of any attack, I decided that staying dry was worth the risk. Floor space was at a premium in the small structure, but I managed to find a spot to lay my bedding.
Before I left London, I went to see my Doctor, to check that my various inoculations were still valid. I also asked about Malaria, but she assured me that it was not a concern in Eastern Afghanistan. Wrong! The US troops have suffered some cases already. A medic had told me he would get me some drugs, and as this was Monday, it was the day that Meflequine was taken. This is a once a week preventative, and “Meflequine Monday” is the term used as a reminder. I was warned that Meflequine has some side effects, the most common being very vivid dreams.
When I bedded down I told the guys either side of me that I had taken my first Meflequine earlier, and so if I started talking or shouting in my sleep to wake me. They laughed, and I was regaled with a plethora of tales of erotic dreams and horrible nightmares. It was too late at this stage, and I told them as much.
During the night I heard talking. People were discussing broken jaws, horrific injuries, and Medivac. I though it was just the effects of the drug, and tried to settle into a deeper sleep. A while later I heard a helicopter coming in low, and landing close by. Again I tried to ignore it, and fell back asleep.
Tuesday 1st May
Waking, people were still talking about broken jaws and Medivacs. What I thought was a dream was in fact the evacuating of o soldier who had fallen during the night and broken his jaw. He had been manning a gun position on the roof of the building, and when he attempted to walk down the ladder, a step near the top gave way, and he fell. Landing on a rock, he broke his lower jaw in at least two places, as well as breaking his eye socket and possibly his wrist. The poor guy had only been a few weeks away from going home, and now he faced 12 months rehabilitation and reconstructive surgery. Nasty accidents happen when working in extreme circumstances, and climbing around in the dark, wearing heavy body armour and a weapon, can be enough to leave a person with horrific injuries.
Outside, everyone was busy dismantling and packing up all the equipment that had been brought in just days earlier. Water and food would be left for the locals, but everything that might be of use to the enemy was being taken out, or destroyed. Even the sandbags were slashed and emptied. As the place was abandoned it was a strange sight to see the ANA walking out to the HLZ, with19th Century Enfield rifles from the recovered arms cache lashed onto their packs. It was like I had suddenly travelled back in time to a previous war in Afghanistan.
The helicopters were to make several trips to move everything, and I was assigned to the same chalk as infill. We would be the last to leave, and so the procedure was a reverse of when we landed. Once the last birds were on the ground, the perimeter was collapsed, and we ran onboard. As we left I saw kids and adults alike streaming out of the compound that had been used as the base, with boxes of water under their arms or on their heads.
Once we arrived back at Kamdesh we were informed that the showers had been blocked off from general use, to allow us time to get washed. The showers are in a tent, hot as hell, but I was glad to get the opportunity to get clean, and change my clothes. Others were also lining up for haircuts, with a Sergeant wielding a shaver and offering “high and tights” to all comers. Next up was hot food. Again, it was from the deep fat frying van, but hot fresh food, however processed, was a welcome relief from MREs.
Back in the transient accommodation, all the bunks were empty. While we were away there had been a couple of rocket attacks at Kamdesh, as well as on their bases in the area, and people had moved to what they considered safer locations. I was glad the transient space hadn’t been hit, because I had left my laptop, sat-phone, and other valuables there. It would have been a cruel irony if the kit I left behind for safety had in fact been destroyed in an attack. The attacks had focused everyone’s mind on the fact that although 10th Mountain is getting ready to rip out and head back to the US, the local insurgents are gearing up for another round of fighting.
Later in the day MSG B returned from his planning meeting, and told me he had a busy schedule for the next 10 days or so. I had arranged to spend some time with his ETT/ANA element, and so I would be departing in the morning to a new location.
Wednesday 2nd May
Kamu is a small base, really just an outpost, maybe 10 klicks down the river from Kamdesh. It used to be a hunting lodge belong to King Shah of Afghanistan, and so the guys refer to it as the Palace. This whole area teems with wildlife, and is great hunting ground. In the Sixties the Palace even hosted American hunters.
The road to Kamu from Kamdesh runs alongside the river, and is extremely dangerous. There have been many ambushes along the road, some of them fatal. 1 US soldier and 1 ANA were killed in an ambush on the 19th February, as well as 2 ANA critically wounded. The road is in a deep valley, and the high ground is easily infiltrated by insurgents from local villages, and from valleys behind. And Pakistan is only a few miles to the East, with its never ending supply of fighters eager to take their swing at the infidel Americans. The terrain favours the ambushers, with plenty of draws to hide in, huge rocks to take cover behind, and foliage providing plenty of camouflage.
I should explain a little at this stage about the insurgents in Nuristan. Many people talk about the war in Afghanistan, but in reality there is more than one fight going on here. In the south the Coalition are fighting the Taliban. Remnants of the regime removed in 2001 for harbouring Al Qaeda, coupled with new recruits who have joined the resurgent movement. In Nuristan, the Taliban never got a foothold. They were repulsed by local fighters, fiercely independent, and extremely effective. And before the Taliban, the Russians too failed to subdue this province. There are a couple of burnt out Soviet Armoured Personnel Carriers (APCs) on the road outside Kamdesh base, and it is said that they mark the furthest north the “Rus” penetrated. But they couldn’t hold the area, and they finally abandoned it. Even Islam was held at bay here, and Nuristan province only converted to the worship of Allah 95 years ago. This is an area that doesn’t take kindly to new people or ideas.
In Nuristan, US forces are mainly fighting Hezb-I Islami Gulbuddin (HIG) and Al Qaeda. Hekmatyar’s Afghan HIG are known to sometimes ally themselves with the foreign Al Qaeda fighters, but they do not necessarily share the same goals. Alliances have always been loose arrangements in Afghanistan, and easily abandoned, and during the 2001 war against the Taliban many leaders simply defected to the US side when they saw a stronger force with which they could align themselves.
As well as the fighters intent on killing Americans, there are many blood fueds in this region, which the US soldiers can easily become embroiled in if they are not careful. Often one village will inform on another, claiming that they are sheltering fighters or storing weapons. In reality the informants are attempting to trick the soldiers into doing their dirty work for them, or at least weakening their enemy.
There are other complications too. Insurgents will often pay a local to carry out an attack on US troops, offering more money than some can resist. With the insurgents supplying an IED, RPG, or other weapon, the attacker need only carry out this one mission before resuming his simple life, but now with enough money for those 12 cows. In this poor environment, it is naïve to think that all will say no. And now the attacker, who is about to indulge in insurgency, is unknown to intelligence assets working in that area and so much less likely to be caught. An insurgent who is not an insurgent, if you will.
Or another variety. The amalgamation of fights. If one family has a blood feud with another, or one village with another, which is certainly not uncommon in Afghanistan, imagine the ease with which insurgents could encourage an attack. Village X hates village Y, for some reason lost in the annals of history. Village Y also provides workers to a US base or reconstruction project. Now insurgents approach village X, offering money and weapons to cause problems for village Y. Maybe plant an IED in the village, resulting in US and village Y casualties. Or, stage an ambush from village Y, or at least make it seem that way, and hope that the Americans overreact and shoot up or bomb the village. Either way, village Y suffers, village X has their revenge, and the insurgents have reinforced the message that the Afghan Government, even with Coalition assistance, is incapable of providing security in the land.
Or maybe a man has won a financially rewarding contract from the Americans. Another man had bid, and now is determined to get rid of the successful contractor. In order to avoid suspicion and reprisal, he arranges for local fighters to kill the man, and in return he will spy for them when he takes over the US funded project. So now the first man is killed, it is recorded as an execution due to the man’s involvement with the US military. Which it certainly is, but not solely.
These may seem far fetched, but in fact all these examples are based on events that have been related to me. In this war, nothing is what it seems, and as someone said to me, “When you realise you are totally confused, you are just starting to understand how confusing it is.”
So, to get back to the trip, there have been many attacks on the road from Kamdesh to Kamu, for any number of reasons, and the terrain favours the attackers. On top of that, due to the inclement weather, causing regular road wash-outs, and extremely strong river currents, the road is currently not passable by Humvee, that heavily armoured, weapons bristling, beast of burden of the US military. Because of this, it would be necessary to move up the road in Rangers, the soft skinned, no-armour what-so-ever, pick-up that the ANA use. This thing burns up if you throw a Zippo at it, let alone an RPG.
MSG B explained that this is the reason the ANA “un-ass” as soon as they have a contact. Their chances of survival are directly related to just how fast the can get out of the vehicle once attacked. I believe this is one of the reasons for the accusations of cowardice and lack of discipline often levelled at the ANA. ANA slamming on the brakes and jumping out to fight may seem ill-disciplined, especially when the Coalition tendency is to “push out of the kill zone,” but once you realise that the Coalition vehicles are armoured and can stand up to quite a bit of gunfire, while the ANA’s Ranger will look like Swiss cheese after a few bursts of automatic weapons fire, it becomes apparent that they are in fact taking the only course of action open to them. Survival of the fastest!
The news that I would not only be travelling in a Ranger, but sitting in the right-hand passenger seat, the one closest to the cliff-side and therefore most likely to be hit by incoming fire, was unsettling to say the least. This situation, similar to being the first man off the helicopter at Barg-e-Matal, really brings home the very real danger inherent in just being here. I don’t mean to sound dramatic, and I’m not suggesting that I am a jabbering wreak, frightened by my own shadow, but the fact is that each time you get a mission like that, you have to consider that you might not make it to the other end. Speaking to MSG B’s partner ETT, SGT C, he brought up exactly that subject. He has been in several fire-fights on the road, and he said that every time he’s in a Ranger he sits with one hand on the door handle ready to spring out as afst as possible, in an attempt to live long enough to at least return fire at his attackers. And every single time he wonders if he will get to the other end.
Obviously I did, but the trip was nerve-wracking. The sides of the mountains are so close that I reckon a guy wouldn’t need an RPG launcher to hit us; he could just tie it to the end of a stick, lean out and just press the detonator up against the side of the vehicle as we rolled by. With all the foliage growing it is a nightmare to see if there is anyone moving on the mountainside, so it really is a horrible road to travel. Added to this is the fact that it is a dirt road, which gets baked in the sun during the day, and when vehicles drive over it all that dust gets thrown up into the air, creating a brown out. This adds to the tension. And of course on the other side there is the fast flowing, deep, cold river. The road is unbelievably narrow in places, with weak side-walls eroded away by the strong currents, and if a vehicle does tip over the side it is pretty much guaranteed that you will drown. I literally was between a rock and a wet place.
At one stage we did suddenly come to a halt, and in front of me I could see ANA soldiers leaping off the pick-up. I snapped that door handle and half jumped, half fell out of the cab. There was no shooting, but the ANA were quickly spreading out into defensive positions, so I followed their example. In fact the convoy had stopped to examine a previous ambush spot, and gather some intelligence, and before the adrenaline had left my bloodstream we we loading up and moving again.
Palpable relief swept over me when we arrived. Getting out and back on firm ground was fantastic, if only to combat the rollercoaster motion-sickness from driving over the huge rocks along the road. Really, a good road contractor needs to set up business in Afghanistan, they’ll make a fortune.
The Palace at Kamu is beautiful, with Rose bushes and fruit trees growing in the lush gardens. Tall trees provide welcome shade, and in the background there is the soothing white noise of the river. But the most enjoyable aspect of the place is the genuinely friendly relationship between the US troops and the ANA. The soldiers here have all learned enough Pashto to say Hello, How are you, and reply to this niceties. Some guys have learned quite a bit more. Conversely, the ANA here have learned more English than I’ve ever heard from any unit before. The ANA cook or buy local food, Goat, Cheese, Naan and Paratha bread of course, and make copious amounts Chai, which they share with their American military brethren. All day long there are calls of greeting between passing soldiers of both armies, with waves and handshakes as well. The warmth between the two groups, who have worked closely together over the past months, puts pay to the lie there is nothing but animosity between these forces. They have even built a make-shift “Horse Shoe” game, with iron bars fixed in sand-pits, with metal clips from Humvee towbars pressed into action as horseshoes. There are some heated games on this field of play.
During the time that MSG B and SGT C had been away, about 10 days, two new US personnel had arrived at Kamu. These guys were SECFOR (Security Force), soldiers drawn from the National Guard that are used for Force Protection. Sometimes that means gate or tower duty, or perimeter patrols, but out here it means driving and gunning for the ETTs.
MSG B sat them down outside and began an SA (Situational Awareness) briefing, which continued for over two hours. I wish I had recorded it, because it was without a doubt one of the best briefings I have heard. He went through the previous ambushes, where they had occurred, what the terrain was like, the preferred methods of initiation and follow up in an ambush, how the enemy moves, infill and exfill routes, local village affiliations and feuds, which villages sheltered insurgents, where local leaders lived and met, and a whole lot more. He asked a lot of questions, something he does a lot, and he discovered that neither of these guys has been in combat before. So he went through the reality of the fight out here, and told them that if they fought only according to the rules laid down in 7-8 (a US military manual) then they could die quickly, but if they incorporated his advice and learned everyday, then they would improve their chances. “This place is a tough place to learn in” he said, “and it doesn’t forgive mistakes.” On a lighter note, he went on to talk about the natural reaction to being shot at. “When you take fire, I don’t care who you are, the first human reaction is to get down, take cover, and curl up in a ball. It is instinctive, and it is impossible to overcome. The trick is to learn to overcome it as fast as you can, and then get into the fight. Anyone who tells you he was shot at and immediately returned fire is a liar” he said. “Even if we’re inside the Humvee, with all that armour protecting us, as soon as we hear fire the first thing we are going to do is hunch down, and look like we are trying to give ourselves a blow-job.” It reminded me of the “making a stupid face” dialogue in the movie “Snatch.” This is how he went on, sometimes funny, sometimes deadly serious. No, I’ll change that, he was serious the entire time, but he utilised different moods to keep their attention, to hammer home his points, and to make them understand the dangers without scaring them to death.
When MSG B entered the ETT building he discovered that while he was gone all the beds had been taken. Due to this raid we would be forced to bed down on the floor. Considering the filthy carpet I wasn’t impressed, and thought I might just sleep out on the lawn instead. However, later in the evening, standing outside in the dark chatting and looking at the starry sky, someone spotted movement on the ground. By the light of a torch we saw the most disgusting centipede I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes. It looked prehistoric, with armoured scales on its back, and huge pincers growing out of its head area. It was also about half a foot long, and I believe, well capable of swallowing me whole. Now I was most definitely NOT sleeping outside.
Thursday 3rd May
A down day, for rest and refit. In the evening there was a tremendous thunder and lightening storm. It was so loud that it sounds like there was artillery firing close-by. At least the inclement weather reduces the likelihood of attack.
Friday 4th May
There is no kitchen facility at Kamu, being a small outpost, so it is MRE’s for breakfast, lunch, and supper. But in order to bring some feel of normal life to the experience, coffee is a must. Unfortunately there is no gas left in the ETT stove, so after I cleaned and refilled the percolator, I made my way over to the ANA cooking area. A stone built fireplace, black with use and swarming with flies, had a burning log in situ, so all I needed to do was place the pot right in the fire. While I waited for the process to complete, I watched an ANA soldier washing pots under a tap. It struck me that these cooking conditions were extremely poor, but that is what the ANA must suffer. Lack of money and equipment means that the soldier’s motto “Improvise, adapt, and overcome” is a way of life out here.
Speaking of money, I discovered that a regular ANA soldier earns around $120 per month. That is not a lot when you consider that an average goat costs approximately $140. These guys are fighting, and living, in extremely arduous conditions, with equipment that no Western army would accept as adequate, and they are doing it for a pittance. On the other hand, an interpreter (terp) earns up around $900 per month. The frustrating thing to see, and I can only imagine how it must infuriate the ANA, is the huge disparity in the quality of terps in the field. There are some guys who are quite brilliant, translating not only the words but the tone and mood of the conversation. Sadly, there are others that are worthless. Some of these guys don’t want to go outside the wire, using any number of feeble excuses, and even inside the wire their translation skills are questionable. Listening to a several sentence statement translated with only a few words underlines the reliance of troops on terps, and their vulnerability at the hands of a bad one.
It also highlights another more important point. While most soldiers at Kamu have picked up enough Pashtu to communicate greetings, etc, I have not met a single soldier who is conversant, let alone fluent in the language. 6 years into this war I can’t believe that there is not more emphasis being put on learning to communicate. I’m not suggesting that no-one has learned it. I’m sure that those who have shown any aptitude have been snapped up by Intel or HUMINT (Human Intelligence) people, if not the spook world, but surely it must be obvious that relying on terps is a serious restriction to Situational Awareness (SA), and to building up relationships with locals.
After breakfast, we prepared to convoy back to Kamdesh, in Rangers. Godammit!!! The trip was a tense as before, and we were only on the ground for a short while before returning. I grabbed all my gear out of Kamdesh this time, as it was unclear when I would have an opportunity again. It is dangerous to split up equipment in this environment, as movements and plans change so often. When MSG B arrived at Kamu it was supposed to be for a 10 day mission, but it was 81 days before he got back to his original location. In preparation for his 10 mission, he brought one change of clothes, including socks and under wear. For 81 days! So I am trying to keep all my stuff together in future.
During the return trip there were a few stops to search compounds. Because this is a Main Supply Route (MSR) it is imperative that the insurgents are not allowed free movement, and that the rule of the Afghan Government extends even here. During the searches many occupants were questioned, and the fear of insurgent activity was extremely high. It was on this stretch of road, maybe 11 kilometres, that Fazal Ahad was executed. Even if people had information relating to the insurgents, it would take a brave man to speak to the Americans. Fear of reprisal is a part of the insurgent’s toolkit, and it is very effective. Of course there are many brave people who don’t support the insurgents or their acts, and who do provide information, but in ways I can’t talk about. Suffice to say that despite the acts of terror perpetrated on these people, they are not cowed.