The night was black, except for tiny blue flashlight glows where soldiers checked fuel gauges or ammo clips. The makeshift military camp was silent, except for the low rumble of idling engines and the occasional barking of stray dogs outside the gates.
At 1:30 a.m. Sunday, the troops moved out: 40 U.S. soldiers in a convoy of Humvees mounted with heavy machine guns, and 60 Afghan National Army troops in pickup trucks. Their target was a village 10 miles away, toward which Taliban fighters had retreated after a fierce battle with a convoy of U.S. troops on June 14, leaving a trail of blood in the desert.
For Capt. Steven Wallace, the U.S. military commander in this district of Zabol province, there was much at stake. The Taliban had repeatedly staged attacks here along the major north-south highway. In the June 14 incident, about 50 fighters had ambushed the U.S. convoy from an orchard, injuring two American soldiers and burning one Humvee.
"That ambush was a real eye-opener," Wallace said shortly before the Sunday morning raid. "We've had a lot of small incidents, but this was the first time they massed against us. We killed about seven, but we were trapped and so busy fighting that most of them had time to get away."
In response to a bloody Taliban offensive across southern Afghanistan this spring, U.S. forces have launched a major campaign to try to dislodge and destroy the insurgents, both by military means and by building close relations with local authorities, security forces and residents. But as Wallace and his men have found, such efforts are often frustrated by Afghans' suspicion, mixed loyalties and fear of retaliation.
Fear of leaks
This raid was a first test of combat coordination between U.S. and Afghan troops in the district. Wallace's forces set up camp here in April, and a newly trained Afghan brigade arrived in June. Relations were cordial but superficial, and Wallace was careful not to tell his Afghan counterparts which village they planned to raid, for fear of leaks.
The vehicles moved slowly along invisible desert ruts, headlights off and radios constantly crackling. The Americans wore heavy flak jackets, helmets and night-vision goggles. The Afghans wore new green berets, uniforms and bandoliers and carried clutches of rockets in cloth quivers.
"Warrior 6, Warrior 22. I see a white signal light on the ridge."
The night before, Wallace had sent out two platoons of scouts. For 24 hours before the raid, they watched the village from hiding places but reported no unusual activity or traffic. But there was every likelihood that the Taliban had gotten wind of the mission and were preparing to resist. The convoy paused in the darkness, then moved ahead.
By 3 a.m., the cordon was in place: Twenty vehicles were spaced in the desert around the village of Jafar Safia, engines killed, waiting for sunup. At 4:45, the first calls to prayer echoed faintly from several villages, and the sky began to lighten. By 5, the outlines of the mud walls ahead were distinct. Wallace picked up his radio mike.
"Warrior 22, Warrior 66, Warrior 6. Okay, everybody, let's go in, nice and easy."
For the past two years, Shah Joy -- a poor district of parched olive groves, stunted vineyards and wandering camel herds -- has been a persistent source of trouble for the Afghan government and its international supporters. During construction on the new north-south highway, a U.S.-funded project, a Turkish and an Indian engineer were kidnapped in separate incidents here; the Turk was safely ransomed, but the Indian was found beheaded.
Early this spring, as Taliban fighters stepped up their violence across the south, Shah Joy became a target. Taliban forces threatened to kill teachers, and all three schools in the district were shut down. When Wallace's troops arrived, there was not a single child in class, and police officers were digging foxholes inside their compound, too fearful to venture out.
After pitching camp in an abandoned building, the U.S. forces began trying to win the confidence of residents. Wallace, who fought in Afghanistan in 2002 against remnants of the ousted Taliban government, said he had been eager to try "the hearts and minds approach" this time.
His men built a new school next to their base, erected a swing set and slides outside and offered to guard the whole compound. But teachers and students were reluctant to return. This week, there were just 74 boys in class -- a fraction of the number working or idling in the main bazaar -- and the playground equipment had been vandalized.
"The bad men don't know we are open yet," said Safar Mahmad, 58, a teacher, as he listened to a small boy read aloud from a Pashto-language text on nature conservation. "I am safe because I live here in town, but those who have to walk or bicycle from the villages are still in danger."
The U.S. forces also took on the Taliban directly, repeatedly raiding villages where they believed the insurgents were hiding, offering rewards for their capture and retaliating aggressively after attacks. They stenciled glaring devil's heads on the doors of their Humvees and bragged that their armor could stop the Taliban's toughest weapons.
Aiding insurgents
One officer said most of the fighters they captured seemed like desperate fugitives, emaciated and unkempt. But Wallace said he believed some residents were actively helping the insurgents, whether because of tribal ties, religious affinity or fear. His troops said that in some parts of the district, children hurled stones and epithets at them. Even the district administrator, Mohammed Barat, conceded that he could not survive in his post without the U.S. military presence.
"People here support the Taliban in a hidden way," Barat said. "After 25 years of war, everybody hates everybody -- that's part of it. Also people here are illiterate and very religious, so Pakistani preachers put it in their heads to fight the Americans. I am very happy the Americans are here, but the moment they leave, you will see many, many casualties."
The circle of armed vehicles converged at the edge of Jafar Safia. The men inside them, eager to fight, braced for gunfire or rockets to erupt from behind the mud walls. But there was no flurry of sound or motion, only the babble of irrigation streams and the indifferent crows of awakening roosters.
Clambering out of their vehicles, the soldiers fanned out through the village. Afghan troops frisked a man carrying a bundle of firewood, then vanished into fruit orchards to search for hidden enemies. American troops went door-to-door with an interpreter, asking politely at each house to see the senior male resident -- a new policy designed to put people at ease -- and telling him to gather the women and children in one room.
Then, with guns at the ready, several soldiers entered each mud compound and began poking into chicken coops and tin trunks and running metal detectors over haystacks. Mostly, families watched wordlessly, but some smiled and offered tea. After two hours, the searchers had turned up only one ancient shotgun and two young, unarmed men in black turbans who said they were visiting from Helmand province.
Wallace, irritated and impatient, called for the village mullah and elders. He asked them how recently Taliban fighters had visited, how long they had stayed and if any had been wounded. He said he had proof they had been there. If the elders would only let him know next time, he would happily come and kill the insurgents -- and pay a reward to boot.
‘You will never find anything’
Hajji Obaidullah, the most talkative elder, frowned anxiously as he listened. He rubbed his hands and shook his head.
"You have searched my village three times, and you have found nothing," he told Wallace, as dozens of children watched solemnly and donkeys drank from a nearby irrigation stream. "No matter how many times you search it, you will never find anything."
Obaidullah admitted that Taliban fighters had been there from time to time, but only to ask for food. He said that once he had offered tea to U.S. troops, and the Taliban had returned and threatened him.
"The people are afraid of the Taliban, and they are afraid of the Americans too," he told the officer, who towered over him. "It is our duty to help you, but they may come after you leave. If anything bad happens to you after this, please don't come back here."
Wallace, temporarily defeated, told his men to let the two suspicious visitors go and to head back to camp. They had done their jobs well; the Afghan troops had performed with unexpected speed and professionalism, and no one had been hurt. But the soldiers knew that whatever truth lay behind the mud walls of Jafar Safia, they had not unearthed it.
A herd of goats swarmed around the parked Humvees, chased by a little girl. The villagers watched silently as the troops gunned their engines and slowly drove away, scattering chickens in the dust.
