The Road to Hell
20th Nov
Another day hanging around at Bermel. The simple fact is that the soldiers here are recovering from a long mission, and while they recuperate and refit I must kick my heels a while. So when I heard that the “Scouts” were going to be zeroing their weapons out at the range, I decided to go and chat with them. These were the guys I had met a few days previously, walking down out of the mountains and looking so exhausted. As usual, when I approached with my cameras, there were a few disparaging remarks about journalists. But a couple of them remembered me, and said hello. They told their mates that I was alright, that I had been shot alongside US troops in Afghanistan. I’m not sure how this dubious honour testifies to my character, but was glad that it seemed to reassure them.
While some of the soldiers fired their weapons at targets and then slightly adjusted their sights accordingly, I spoke with some of the others. They were preparing for a new mission. Initially they were hesitant to speak about it, but I assured them it would be over long before I wrote about it or released photos or video footage. (This is one of the reasons that I publish this blog a couple of weeks after the date it is actually written). They were planning to walk into the mountains, find where the insurgents who were planting the IEDs were, wait until they tried to emplace another one, “and then we will kill them.” And that was what he said, not “neutralize the enemy”, or “take them out”, or any of the multitude of other euphemisms that are used when what is really meant is, “and then we will kill them.” And that is what these guys do. They kill people, and they are proud of it. The Scouts are part of the reaction to the IED that killed Capt. Boris and Sgt. Hike on 12th Nov. It doesn’t seem to be a knee-jerk reaction, just a cold military plan. I have heard many soldiers say that the worst thing they could do is overreact, you know, start searching villages, kicking in doors, etc, in some kind of righteous retribution. Most soldiers seem to be aware that those kinds of actions would play into the insurgent’s hands, alienating the local populace, and increasing support for the ACMs (anti-coalition militias). And so the Scouts will go out, find those responsible, and kill them. And every single person on the FOB will be happy that they are dead. Strange, isn’t it, to think that these ordinary men and boys, from ordinary lives in ordinary towns, have been changed so much by their experiences in this war.
21st Nov
Struggling out of a deep sleep, and my then sleeping bag, I answered the knock on my door with a gruff “Awake.” It was 5:30am, and I was still definitely not ready to face the day, but the patrol was going out early, and that meant so was I. In the room next to me I heard a knock on Capt. Mac’s door too. He sounded a lot grumpier than me, but was met with a cheerful “You’ve got a war to win Sir!” It was delivered with perfect deadpan, but I know the guy who said it, and there was no doubting the humour. I don’t know how these guys stay so upbeat all the time. Especially as both of them were also going on the day’s mission, and it was going to suck.
The mission was as small in detail as it was huge in dread. The guys at the Malakshey Combat Outpost (COP) were due to be relieved, and so the new guys and Headquarters, Capt Mac, 1SG and me, would drive up and perform a Rip (Replacement in Place). Sounds easy. Drive to the COP, watch one group of soldiers hand off to another, get back in the Humvees, and drive back again. Except of course, nothing is ever easy out here. Getting from Bermel to Malakshey involves travelling the Road to Hell!
The IED which killed two troopers and a translator, and badly burned another soldier, on the 12th was on this road. As have many others. And of course lets not overlook the rocket and mortar threat, and direct ambush by Taliban once in the hills.
Driving out the gate I was pretty tense. This was a dangerous drive ahead of us. There was every reason to believe that the people who had planted the 12th Nov IED had also planted others. And now we were going to drive that road. I knew the danger was real, but I also knew there was nothing I could do but take a deep breath, sit back, and hope for the best.
This time I had a headset for the internal radio, so at least I could listen and join in with the banter in the Humvee, and also hear the other vehicles radio transmissions. And then, less than 60 seconds out of the gate, there was a tremendous bang! “Oh shit” I thought, as my body dumped a whole lot of adrenaline into my system. “Here we fucking go again.” I waited for an explosion, or for bullets to hit the vehicle.
1SG and Doc both jumped as well, and there was a brief “What the fuck was that” moment, where everyone spoke at once but no-one had any answers. Then Doc said it must be a stone flung against the floor of the Humvee by the wheels. I was sceptical, as was 1SG, but nothing else happened, and so we kept moving. Now I really started to question what I was doing on this patrol. Was I really going to see or photograph anything that was worth running the risk of being blown up? Unlikely! So why go? Well, this was the only mission of the day. And besides, if I allow the fear of what might be outside the wire to take hold, I won’t be able to work at all. And finally, truth be told, I would feel like a coward if I let the guys I am embedded with go out without me, whatever the risk. If I get to that stage then I should go home.
The drive was horrible. And every few minutes 1SG would point out another IED blast site, a hole in the ground. Or rocket remains scattered by the road. The worst part is when the vehicle has to drive through a depression in the road, usually a dried up wadi. These are the sites favoured by the people who emplace the IEDs, because they are harder to see from the base, due to the cover afforded by the wadi, and also because the ground is softer and easier to dig. Every time we dropped into one I caught my breath, and every time we drove up the other side without exploding I cheered inside.
After a couple of kilometres the vehicles came to a stop. “What the fuck is he up to” said 1SG as Capt. Mac came into view in the windscreen. He had left the protective armour of his Humvee and was walking back towards us. I fully expected him to walk on a mine at any second, but happily he didn’t. Opening his door, 1SG repeated his question, this time directed straight at the Captain. Capt Mac replied that he wanted to walk some of the road, and before I knew it myself and 1SG were doing the same thing. What can I say, I’m easily led! Anyway, I was determined to be as cautious as I could, and so I fell back behind the two of them, and carefully walked in Capt. Mac’s footsteps. And I mean IN them. Every step I took was placed gingerly on one of his. It was slow going, and the concentration soon started to tire me. Plus, I had forgotten to take off my fleece before I put on my body armour a few hours earlier, and now I was roasting alive.
The vehicles started to move again, but we were off road and cut a diagonal route to head them off. Up ahead were more soldiers, guys that had also decided to dismount. They were milling around in a tight area, and as we approached they started up the road again, allowing the larger group to spread out. This was to try and minimise the target should we be ambushed on the road. Along the way we passed more evidence of IEDs and rocket attacks.
And then we arrived at the site of the 12 Nov ambush, which killed Capt. Boris and Sgt. Hike. It was awful. The crater was huge, proving just how immense the explosion must have been. So large that it flipped the Humvee over, which is no mean feat. The was evidence all around of the destruction. I don’t want to go into too much detail, partly because I am aware that the families of the dead men may read this, and also because the insurgents are known to read news reports as a way of assessing the effectiveness of their bombs, but I will say this. To me, the size of the crater and the remains of the vehicle, which I had seen at the Fob at Bermel, looked more like something from Iraq than Afghanistan. Whether this means that information is being shared, or just that the local insurgents are becoming more deadly on their own I can’t say, but it is a worrying development. Capt. Mac said that he also takes it as evidence that so far the insurgents have come off, by far, the losers in every gun-battle, and so have changed their tactics to reflect their fear of facing the US troops.
Finally we arrived at Malakshey COP. It is a small Outpost, fortified with the ubiquitous Hesco barriers, the wire basket lined with canvas and filled with earth and stone that creates a wall around every military base I have been at, both in Afghanistan and Iraq. The RIP (Replacement in Place) was to happen quickly, as no-one wanted to stay at the COP long. This place gets rocketed most days, and was described to me as one of the most dangerous places in all of Afghanistan And considering that a report has just been published that states that Afghanistan is now statistically more dangerous for US servicemen than Iraq, that puts the Malakshey COP right up there in the top 10 places not to visit.
I was keen to talk to the soldiers ripping out of the COP, to get their feelings on the place, and what it is like to be living in such a dangerous environment. And when they talked to me, well, they didn’t hold back. It was as if the constant pressure of being here had destroyed their edit facility, and I got some very honest accounts. Like the Sgt, who told me he feels like puking when he hears the tell-tale report of a rocket launch, knowing that he has possibly 30 seconds to find protective cover. He told me this while we sat in a tent, which on first glance had a beautiful “starry night” effect inside. He explained to me that the hundreds of little holes, through the daylight was streaming, were in fact created by an explosion just outside the tent. Each of those tiny tears had been made by red-hot pieces of shrapnel, and even one of them would be enough to kill. Luckily there hadn’t been anyone in the tent that time, but as I was told, the insurgents only have to get lucky once, whereas the occupants of the COP have to stay lucky every time.
I also did a quick interview with 1SG C, and during our talk he said this. “That road from Bermel to the Cop is absolutely the worst route that I’ve been on this tour in Afghanistan. It’s six kilometres of hell, because you never know at any instant where its coming from, where its going to hit you at. There’s so many former IED sites, so may historical places that they can hit you from, that every time you dip into a puddle or you dip down into a small river, you just hold your breath, and hope that you make it out to the other side.”
This is exactly how I have felt on these trips, and the truth is that I know I am going home in a few weeks. What I have to wonder is, how long can this pressure be sustained. I am not suggesting that these men are afraid, or will become so, but the sheer stress must surely take a toll on them. With US combat tours now extended to 15 months, what will the cost be to these men’s mental health in the future.
22nd Nov
Today is Thanksgiving, a peculiarly American holiday. Last year I was with a small platoon of engineers from 10th Mountain Division, not far from here. However, we were sitting in a cold canvas tent, huddled around a wood-burning stove, with snow on the ground and a biting wind howling outside. This year I am at a small FOB with the comforts of hot food and water, and I feel spoiled.
Over the previous few days there have been great exertions on the part of many people to ensure that there are traditional Thanksgiving Turkey dinners for every US soldier in the country. They do the same in Iraq. It is strange to see the effort that goes into this one meal, but it is an effort the Army is proud of.
Before we can sit down and gorge ourselves however, Capt. Mac must attend a Shura (meeting) in Bermel district centre. The building is built alongside the base, a plain testament to the fact that the Government here cannot survive without Coalition protection. By the same token, it is obvious to all that the final solution to any insurgency is a political one, and so the Sub-Governor works closely with Capt. Mac and his men. In fact it was the Afghan Government that asked the US forces to build their base in Bermel, back in 2005, after not one but two consecutive Afghan Police Chiefs had their heads cut off by insurgents.
The room was full of Afghan elders, 30-40 men perhaps, dressed in traditional “Shalwar Kameez” and huge turbans, and sporting beards that made mine look like a teenage boy’s stubble. While the Sub-Governor spoke to them, lectured them really, they chatted amongst themselves, picked their noses and toes, and toyed with prayer beads. Some stared into my cameras with pride, some glared at me with undisguised disdain, and some covered their faces with hands and blankets to hide their identity. The Sub-Governor waved a letter around, a “Night Letter,” so called because the written threat is delivered under cover of darkness. He condemned the cowards who did this, but showed no fear. Apparently he has survived several attempts on his life, and does not appear to be scared in the slightest by the insurgents.
Then Capt. Mac started to speak, and the men in the room became more attentive. I don’t know if it was to show him more respect, or because he is seen as more powerful, and therefore a dangerous foe, or simply because they had to listen closely to the translator, but whatever the reason, there was an audible drop in noise as he spoke.
He started by explaining that today was a holiday in his country, and it is customary to think on what each person has to be thankful for. He told the gathered elders, “One thing that I am thankful for today is to be here, among friends, with you.”
Then he moved on to security. He told them that they had a great Sub-Governor. He said they should be honoured to have him. And then he told the “white-beards” that the Sub-Governor was his friend, a good friend, and that they worked very hard alongside each other. “Make no mistake” he said, “we are one team.”
As a piece of theatre it was good, but as a psychological operation or Psy-OP it was brilliantly simple, and simply brilliant. “This guy is my friend, and I am powerful. Therefore he is powerful. Don’t fuck with him!”
“In my experience,” he went on to say, “when we are battling insecurity, there is usually one reason why the people are afraid, or won’t support the government. You may not feel comfortable saying it, so I’ll go ahead and say it. The reason is very simple, and it is this. Those of you who are not completely supporting your government, the reason for that is that you are not sure that you’re government will outlast the ACM.”
There was much agreement in the room, and it was clear he had put into words what many thought. The speeches went on, and on, and on, but the crux was in Capt Mac’s opening statement. The people in this region, as in many areas in Afghanistan, are not necessarily opposed to the government, but they are afraid the government will fail, as it has done many times in their lives. Then, if the people have thrown their lot in with the failing system, what will the repercussions be? Well, with the insurgents it usually involves some kind of grisly death, as the people of Bermel can attest to. Just remember their two unfortunate Police Chiefs. And that is the problem, because while the people sit on the fence, the insurgents can hide in their midst. The people must side with the Afghan Government, and with the Coalition, if the insurgents are to be defeated. But the people must be convinced that the Government will not fail. And that is a message that is hard to sell.