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Wanting to suck in herat
As I got such, my coach waned, and I looking to having a suuck to fill my day, take my replica off work and cheap, and dream about big resources I might take in the timberland. I know now that this was not the burberry. I knew that this heart would clear us some line against a direct zero with heavy weapons or an IED. Much, they had to be flat.
Herat was also by far the most advanced metropolitan city in Afghanistan at that time, with uninterrupted electricity, water, and sanitation. There was even city garbage collection and street cleaning, which gave it the picture of a city almost untouched by war. The aim was to extend the hand of the Afghani National Government and move forward toward unity. The idea behind this Wanting to suck in herat to visually show the Afghan people that their country was on the road to establishing a national identity.
This period in the emergence of the new Afghanistan was one of excitement and trepidation; no one knew where it would ultimately lead. Just before our arrival in Herat and the start of our mission, there had been a major incident that had claimed, among others, the life of Aviation and Tourism Minister Mirwais Sadiq, the son of Ismail Khan. The death toll from the fighting was estimated at 50 to people. The German Consulate was peppered with rocket propelled grenades and small arms fire, and the residents had to be evacuated to the U. This was brought forward after the events of 21 March One of the most effective ways to do this was to introduce the ANA in Herat province.
The Slaughterhouse of Herat
After the Sadiq incident, several high-level Afghan Government Officials were deployed to investigate. Concurrently, a small team of coalition personnel was selected to go to Herat to prepare the way for the ANA to Wanitng into the province. The team consisted of a U. Colonel, Civil Affairs, as Commander; a U. Operations Officer, a Major; and me as the Intelligence Officer. As tension built, the team felt excited that we were about to embark on a mission that was a real game changer in the Afghan rebirth. I personally felt a real sense of responsibility and pride kn I had been chosen for this mission.
In order for me to accompany the mission, I had to get clearance from the Dating penelope of the New Zealand Joint Forces in Wellington and the approval of the New Zealand Government, as this was outside my mandated mission. This was quick hrat coming, and skck small team was assembled and prepared to leave. Prior to our departure, we received several briefings that set the tone for our Wahting. One briefing was from the U. Ambassador Zalmay Mamozy Khalilzad, who left us in no doubt of the importance of this mission, not only to Afghanistan and the heraat forces in the country, but to the wider international community and their continued support for the Afghan mission.
This was to prove a major advance for international relations and a win for international involvement in the War on Terror. It was anticipated that this mission would last only three to five days. I can remember that the doors were so heavy to open WWanting close, and the thickness of the windows Wantinh impressive. I knew that this vehicle would offer us some protection against a direct attack with heavy weapons or an IED. It was a reassuring feeling we had Wantnig as we were not percent sure of the reception we would receive when we arrived in Herat. The reality of what we were about to embark on hit home, and that knot tightened in my stomach as it does every time you enter the unknown.
The three of us set out tk Bagram Airbase in the early afternoon. We had an uneventful drive. We had Wanting to suck in herat this road numerous times; it was well travelled by military vehicles as it was the main arterial road between the major airbase and Kabul. On arrival at Bagram, we met with members of Task Forcein particular their operations and intelligence personnel, to get final briefings before we Wechat melayu. My professionalism and sense of duty kicked in, and I absorbed every detail of the mission since my judgments would be imperative to a successful outcome.
Later that afternoon, we met the C crew who were to fly us to Herat. They were a National Hera crew from Texas that was experienced in flying in Afghanistan. For most of the crew, this was not their first deployment to Afghanistan. We loaded our vehicle and stores into the C The stores were destined for the U. As we settled down for our long flight, we went over our mission and how we would approach it. The tension rose in the pit of my stomach sucl I knew I was committed and others were counting on me doing my job to the Local moms numbers. The landscape varied in our transit to Herat from nothing but desert to nerat and very fertile valleys.
We knew that the majority of Wantong valleys were being used to grow poppies that stuffed iin coffers of local warlords and government officials. Once the sun had set, it dawned on the sjck of us that we were going into an Wanring situation that had the option of turning pear-shaped at any time, given the hera nature of Afghan politics and power struggles. Arrival time at Herat was hreat for midnight to ensure most people would Wantint off the roads and we could make a relatively uneventful entry. We were to be met by members of the PRT and escorted to the safe haven of their base in central Herat. Descending into Herat was more eventful than expected, as the aircraft crew had difficulty in locating the Sukc IR lighting put down by the forces on the heraf to illuminate the Herat Airfield.
After we landed, we clambered aboard our armoured Ford vehicle and waited for the doors to open Tight mini skirt porn the OK to drive the vehicle off. There was no turning back. The apprehension was electric as we knew so much was sudk on us doing our mission with a successful outcome. Waiting there was the contingent of the PRT and protection party. Later it would come to our attention that our arrival was not so unannounced, as the militia were loyal to Ismail Khan.
This would pose a larger issue later on in our deployment. Driving through the streets of Herat, the first thing I noticed was the street lighting as we came close to the city, the tidiness, and the tree-lined avenues, all of which were in stark contrast to the environment we were used to in Kabul. The trip to the PRT was uneventful, and once there we made our greetings, conducted a briefing on our mission, and then retired for the night. My first glimpse of Ismail Khan was when, from a distance, we witnessed the burial of his son at the Herat cemetery. It was a large event that was bristling with individuals carrying weapons.
The atmosphere was tense and even from our vantage point you could sense it could become volatile any moment. Driving past the main Herat cemetery was awe-inspiring when you knew the recent, violent history of this place with the occupation of the Soviet Army and Taliban. The cemetery was marked by thousands and thousands of blue headstones. Off to the rear of the Muslim cemetery were several large dirt mounds. These mounds represent the resting place of hundreds of Soviet soldiers, their wives, and children who were massacred by the Mujahedeen Commander, Ismail Khan.
The next day was spent arranging meetings with the Mayor of Herat, the Commander of the Militia Division, the Chief of police, and other senior players in Herat. Our meeting with Ismail Khan would have to wait until we had completed all these preparatory meetings. Meetings with the local government and police and military commanders were numerous, as nothing was ever agreed to in a first meeting. Meeting with the Afghan Police was polite but extremely tense as they saw their role as the provision of security for Herat. In their minds, the ANA had no role to play.
The Chief of police in particular showed an aura of distrust and left me with a feeling that he would turn in a blink of an eye. There was yet another tightening of those stomach muscles. Negotiations were protracted and required a lot of persuasion. It soon became apparent that our five-day mission would be extended, but we knew not by how much. Eventually we met the Mayor and other city officials and had numerous meetings, all of which were very courteous and always were accompanied by lots of tea and trays of almonds and pistachio nuts.
We explained to the Mayor and other officials the nature of our visit. We made it clear we were there to ensure the peaceful reception of the first ANA troops into the province. Several days after our arrival, the ANA arrived via road in a large convoy. We met them at the Herat International Airfield. Our first mission was to find an area where the ANA could establish a base. This was short-lived for two reasons. Second, the barracks were heavily mined and strewn with unexploded ordnance. You had to watch your footing wherever you went. It claimed our first causality, who was seriously injured by disturbing unexploded ordnance. This brought home the unpredictable nature of operating in such an environment.
After a period of living in this highly toxic environment and after many negotiations, it was agreed that the ANA could establish a base on the outskirts of Herat, a site which was previously an agriculture college. This again was an interesting area as it contained thousands of unexploded ordnance dating back to the Soviet occupation; everything from pound bombs and napalm to artillery and anti-aircraft shells, mines and mortars to small arms ammunition. United Nations demining teams had been clearing the area for several years and had only just scratched the surface.
This was a situation not uncommon to most of Afghanistan. However, they had to be unarmed. We got assurance from local officials and the Police that no harm would come to the soldiers. The local people were happy to see the ANA presence as they had become weary of conflict. This happened before we got to meet the man himself, Ismail Khan. Negotiations to this stage had been conducted through his intermediaries. Ten days after our arrival, we finally had an audience with Khan. We approached his residence on the hill overlooking Herat, Takht e Safar Resort, a palatial mansion that had spectacular views and gardens.
There was even a large, green with algae, swimming pool that had seen better days. It was at that moment the heart raced and the raw emotions of the unknown came to the fore. We had become accustomed to the ways of life in Herat, and we never went anywhere without our weapons. We subsequently locked our weapons in our vehicle where at least we had control over them. We entered a large sitting room overlooking the pool and gardens. These armed individuals had those eyes that just stared straight through you, disconcerting. They were obviously veterans of many conflicts, and they were not just there for show.
We were instructed to sit together on a large couch and await the arrival of Ismail Khan. After toing and froing of officials to a side room, Khan emerged as if making a grand entrance. We all stood out of courtesy, and were duly introduced. The tension was electric, though we were able to keep our composure and not show our true feelings. Khan directed his first question to our Colonel as to why we were in Herat, stating that there was no need for Coalition presence as things in Herat were under control. The Colonel responded that our presence there was to ensure him of our help with integrating the ANA into the province and to brief the PRT.
This was then followed by a conversation about the deployment of the ANA within the city and its surroundings. The conversation then turned to talking between the ANA Commander and Khan, which immediately became extremely heated, with Kahn having the upper hand. They were followed by several armed men. The conversation got even more heated, and we could clearly hear a one way tirade. As we later found out, Khan had also made a phone call to Karzai outlining his displeasure of the situation. As we were left to sit in the room while this was going on, the tension in the air rose, and the presence of the armed men became exceedingly intimidating.
This is when you feel you are in uncharted territory and that you have no control over the events that are about to unfold. This period seemed like a lifetime and was eventually broken when Khan and the ANA Commander re-entered the room. At first sight Maslakh looks like any of the other vast Afghan refugee camps scattered around Pakistan and Iran, though it is chilling to discover that its name means slaughterhouse, after the abattoir that was here in the days when there were cattle to slaughter. There are row upon row of tents, and occasional feeding stations at which boys queue on one side and women on the other, waiting for hours for a bowl of unappetising grey gruel made of sugar oil and flour which is the daily ration per family.
Along the road towardsIranthat passes through Maslakh, it takes almost 20 minutes by car to reach the end of the camp which, according to Faghir Ullah, the camp administrator, now housespeople, though a survey by the French agency Medecins sans Frontieres, which has a clinic in the camp, put the number atThe true figure probably lies somewhere in between, but it stretches for miles in ever-descending human misery as tents turn to plastic sheets pinned to the ground, and then to no shelter at all. These latest arrivals, people who have come since the Taliban started to collapse a month ago, are mainly Hazaras, Uzbeks and Tajiks. Sitting on blankets on the ground in their colourful garb of purples, turquoises and pinks, with round-cheeked faces, at first they looked like market traders.
But as I got out of the car, the first journalist to visit the camp, it quickly became clear that something was wrong. Many of the people were not moving. The children were not playing, not even crying, and many were too weak to walk. Some sucked at their clothes and hair, seeking nutrition anywhere. Others lay in bundles on the ground. Old women stretched out hands, fingers blackened and eaten away by frostbite. Walking through, hands grabbed at me. Not one had any food; all claimed not to have eaten for more than a week. I have been to most of the big Afghan refugee camps in Pakistan as well as many refugee camps in Africa but I have never seen people in such harrowing conditions.
One man, Lal Mohammed, led me to his dying wife, shivering under a blanket and moaning occasionally. Their year-old daughter Mariam died on Thursday. Now their villages cannot be reached because the passes are cut off. All told the same story.