A Land Made For Guerrilla War

By Paul Quinn-Judge

Every morning, just after dawn, the first of a group of dignified, luxuriantly bearded Afghans go into a flower-filled garden bounded by a spring-fed stream and open their Korans. Later they pray and eat breakfast, nodding solemnly to the bedraggled foreigners who wander outside. This serene setting is in fact part of the defense ministry of the United Front. Only two things give any hint of the place's real purpose: the crackle of radios and the comings and goings of officers--Bismullah Khan, the overall commander for the area, said to be in intense negotiations with Taliban commanders who want to defect, and General Babajan from the front line at the Bagram air base, now a media celebrity thanks to his guided tours for journalists.

The ministry provides quarters for a dozen or so foreign journalists. Despite the lovely garden and songbirds--Afghans are passionate about both--conditions are austere. We sleep seven to a room, on the floor, and limited bathing facilities mean that a faint Camembert-like odor hovers about us. It is unusual for a defense ministry to take paying guests. But this is an unusual war. At night each side lobs a few shells, as if to remind the enemy it still exists. Frontline commanders ply visitors with tea and grapes.

But appearances can be deceptive, as U.S. troops may one day discover. A people of immense charm and courtesy, Afghans are fiercely independent, and they are fighters of astonishing stamina and resolve. The United Front soldiers could be valuable allies to U.S. forces, but even with their help, Americans would probably find the Taliban a dangerous enemy.

The country would provide a daunting challenge for any U.S. ground troops. A captivating land of high mountains, deep valleys and wide plains, Afghanistan is, in all its dimensions, made for guerrilla warfare. It's a place where knowledge of the terrain is the most important weapon any army can have.

A trip by helicopter and four-wheel drive from the northeast border to this hill town, 5,250 ft. above sea level and 38 miles from Kabul, displays the country in all its harsh beauty. The helicopter makes its way between mountains, not above them, a few dozen feet above the lower peaks, a few hundred from the cliffs on each side. There is no room for error. The roads are no less a challenge. The unpaved single-track trail from the helicopter pad at Astana in the Panjshir Valley--a United Front stronghold--winds between a fast-moving river and steeply rising mountainsides.

Many of the United Front soldiers are mujahedin who fought the Soviets here. They are distinguishable from civilians only by their guns. Their bases are equally hard for the untrained eye to discern. In the high mountains, their tiny fire points, or sangar, resemble little more than piles of rocks. In the peaceful-seeming villages of the plains, military bases blend in with the surrounding houses. Look through the narrow entrances of the high-walled compounds, many built to resemble fortresses, and you never know what you will find--a flower garden or a mortar emplacement. This is a land built for defense--against bandits, lawlessness and foreign invaders. We outsiders are always welcome, but on their terms. It would be best for the U.S. to remember this in the weeks ahead.