by Howard Faber
“How many men are there to fight?”
“We are twenty-six.”
“You now have twenty-seven. Do you have weapons?”
“We have eight automatic rifles we took from the Russians when we dropped them into the irrigation canal. We also have two machine guns that were on the UAVs.”
Sayeed looked at his son-in-law with new respect. Ali never mentioned this. “Is there any way to get more weapons?”
Ali and his friends had been talking about this. “The government won’t give us any. We think the best way is to take them from the Taliban. We know from the truck drivers where they stop the trucks, and we have a plan about ambushing them and taking weapons. We have to do it quietly, so the government doesn’t hear about it.”
“How many Taliban are stopping the trucks?”
“There have been usually eight or ten.” Ali was talking softly now.
“One raid wouldn’t be enough to get rifles for all of the men.”
“We plan to make two raids. We plan to capture the first group of Taliban so they can’t go back to report about what happened, but we want the second group to go back to report so the Taliban know it won’t be so easy to retake Bamiyan.”
Sayeed was beginning to respect his son-in-law even more.
Chapter Fourteen
Raiding the Taliban
They decided to have eight men go on the first raid. The main reason was there were just eight weapons. The plan was to go to one of the places on the road where the Taliban were stopping trucks, wait for a truck to pass and be stopped, then let the truck go, and surround the Taliban when they were celebrating. The hard part would be staying hidden from the Taliban and still be able to surround them. Ali thought the Taliban would not expect any attacks, so they would be surprised and not ready to fight back.
They left at dusk, each leaving from a separate place so as not to attract attention. They met outside of town and followed paths used by the nomads when they visited in the summer. Ali had not told Nafisa or the children. Only Nafisa’s father knew, and even he did not know details of the plan. They walked silently, moving above the road, each thinking his own thoughts. Ali grew more determined as he walked. He would not leave again. He would defend his home and family.
As they approached the place they thought the Taliban would wait for trucks, they split into two groups, one for each side of the road. Soon they heard Pushtu. The Taliban were very sure of themselves, expecting no resistance. Ali and the men from Sharidure waited to figure out how many Taliban there were and where they were. From the voices, there seemed to be seven. By now it was dark. Soon, they heard the sound of a truck laboring with its load up the pass. They moved closer. The engine sounded louder, and the headlights spread their circles of light on the road. They moved closer and they could see the Taliban crouching by the road.
As the truck appeared around a turn, four of the Taliban moved onto the road ahead of the truck, brandishing their weapons. The truck came to a stop and the driver appeared, hands raised, pleading for his life. The Taliban laughed, then motioned the two passengers to step down. Three more Taliban appeared at the back of the truck, looking for the driver’s assistant who rode there.
The Taliban weren’t interested in killing the people. They wanted money and supplies. One of the things on the truck was a shipment of kharbooza, the wonderful melons grown in the north. They were one of the things the Taliban took. The truck soon left with its relieved passengers. The Taliban gathered on the road, laughing about how easy it had been. They soon cut open one of the melons, then sat down to eat.
When Ali saw them put down their rifles, he ran out from where he was hiding, shouting in Pushtu for the Taliban to stay sitting and not to pick up their rifles. The other Sharidure men swiftly joined him, surrounding the Taliban. Two of the Taliban reached for their rifles and four shots rang out. Both Taliban fell to the ground screaming, clutching their legs where they had been hit. Ali told his men to aim low so the Taliban couldn’t duck under their fire, and because they wanted to keep the Taliban alive. The other Taliban stayed seated, eyeing their attackers. The Taliban weapons were quickly moved out of their reach. The bandoliers of bullets worn by the Taliban were removed and were soon on the shoulders of the men from Sharidure. Two Taliban were ordered to carry the two wounded men.
The rest of the night was spent marching the prisoners to an abandoned sheep and goat corral where families used to live in the summer. At the base of the stone corral, there were small holes dug horizontally into the ground. The Sharidure men put one Taliban into each hole and rolled a large stone into the small opening. They put some water and a little food into each hole. As each hole was secured, Ali told each of the Taliban they would be kept here for several days. They would be allowed to live to return to their homes. He also told them he and his friends wanted to live peacefully in their homes, but that they would be fighting anyone who tried to attack them. They left two men to guard the corral.
Stone Corral • By Howard Faber
The others got back to Sharidure before sunrise. No one missed them. Ali explained to Nafisa that he had been on a night training mission to help defend the village.
That night the twenty-five men from Sharidure met to discuss what to do next. The seven Taliban weapons and extra ammunition were given out into eager hands.
***
There was a debate going on about what to do with the Taliban prisoners. Some wanted to kill them. Some wanted to let them go. Some wanted to turn them over to Afghan authorities. In the end, it was decided that it was wise to return them to the road where they were captured, so they could find their way home. There was also discussion about telling them where their captors were from. So far, only Ali had spoken to them, and only in Pushtu. The location of the deserted corral also gave no clue as to where they were or what town was the home of their captors. It was decided to keep up this veil of secrecy. It would be good to keep the Taliban from reprisal raids.
Ali went with six others to relieve the current rotation of guards. There had been eight hour shifts for the guards. He brought with him clean cloth to replace the temporary bandages they had used to stop the bleeding from the legs of the wounded Taliban.
On the third night after the raid, the Taliban prisoners were removed from their silent little prisons. They blinked and rubbed their eyes and mumbled to each other about their ordeal. Ali led them back to where the truck was stopped. He told them they could find their way home from there, but not to return. “This is our home. Go back to yours, and leave us alone. You can see we are ready for you if you come back. Next time, we will aim higher. Oh, and thank you for your rifles.”
Ali and the other men returned to Sharidure and made plans for a second raid. They wanted to send a signal to the Taliban who were stopping trucks approaching their town from the west. They also needed more weapons and bullets. The raid was planned for the next night. The strategy was the same as the first raid. This time they took ten men since they had more weapons.
They walked in silence, again following animal paths above the main road, stopping at the location they heard was where Taliban ambushes took place. They were more confident than the first time, but this time they had a longer wait.
Finally,
in the morning, a truck came growling up from the west. They saw it stop, with Taliban fighters surrounding it. There were nine in this group. As before, they let down their guard when the truck rumbled off. Then an argument started about dividing up the money they had taken. The argument turned into a fight. They were so focused on the dispute that they didn’t notice Ali and the Sharidure men coming from both sides of the road. Only when it was too late and they were surrounded did they notice the new arrivals. Ali told them to sit with their hands above their heads. He thanked them for their rifles. Three of the Sharidure men collected the Taliban bullet bandoliers. Another relieved them of the money taken from the truck. “We have a convenient hotel for you for the next couple of days.” They were marched to the same corral used by the first captive group.
When Ali and seven of the other men returned to Sharidure they were greeted by a group of American soldiers who arrived that morning. They wanted to talk to the leaders of the village.
“We would like to help you defend your village.” Ali and his father-in-law were completely surprised at the words of the American leader. They exchanged glances, both wondering if they should tell this outsider about their now functioning fighting group. They asked the American for a little time to talk about his offer.
“I don’t trust this outsider.” These were Ali’s father-in-law’s first words. “What does he know of our situation? Remember how the Russians said they were going to help us.”
American Soldier • UNO
Now it was Ali’s turn. He wanted to be respectful of his father-in-law. “I do remember the Russians and the Taliban, but we could use some help. These are the Americans, not the Russians.”
There was silence.
“So you think we should talk more to them? Should we tell them about our group?” Sayeed seemed to be warming a little to the idea of help.
“What does it hurt to talk? We should first ask more about how they could help and try to find out if they are really Americans.”
They went back outside to talk more to the Americans. Ali started to realize that his village was assuming he was the leader, and he warmed to the idea and the accompanying responsibility. He invited the entire group into his carpentry shop to have tea. Sayeed and the other people standing with them nodded their heads in agreement with that invitation. It was polite and proper to invite outsiders to tea.
The Americans talked among themselves about having tea. They recognized it was polite and proper. Ali wished he knew English because he couldn’t understand what was being said. With the Americans was an Afghan. Ali judged him to be Tajik, apparently a translator. The American leader spoke some Farsi, with a definite accent. So far the translator had not spoken to the people of Sharidure.
There were no chairs in Ali’s shop, and everyone stood. The Americans seemed fine with standing, but the Afghans were used to sitting. Ali thought of a compromise. He quickly made a circular space in the shop and swept the floor. He asked his son Hassan, who was close by watching and listening, to bring the cushions from their home. “How many leeoff do we have Hassan?”
“I think we have six, father.” Hassan ran home and soon returned, loaded down with cushions and helped by two of his friends. Ali placed the long cushions in a circle, knelt down and gestured for the Americans to join him and the other Afghans. The tea arrived from the teashop. The shop windows were full of faces, everyone wanting to see these outsiders and what was going on.
“Thank you very much,” the American leader said, as he realized the importance of this first meeting. “We have come from Bamiyan. Before that we were at the American base at Bagram. My leader asked us to go to your village to help you protect yourselves. We stopped at Bamiyan to get permission from your governor to help. She thinks it’s a good idea. I have a letter from her to you.”
He handed a letter to Ali, who read the letter. It verified that these soldiers were indeed Americans, and that their help was approved by her and the government of Afghanistan. It recommended allowing the Americans to help them defend their town. The letter went on to say that the Americans might stay a month or more to train the village men to protect themselves, but then they would move on to another village. Ali explained this to Sayeed and the other village people. Ali and the other village leaders stood to leave and talk further about the offer of help. He explained to the Americans (through their translator) that he would be back after discussing it with the other village leaders. He told the Americans they could stay in the shop until he returned and to enjoy the tea and nawn that would be coming.
The men of Sharidure went to the school to talk about what to do. Most of them were in favor of accepting the help. Some were fearful of reprisals from Taliban if it became known Americans were there.
Ali waited until everyone had spoken. “When the Taliban last came to our town they left a bitter memory for our people. Perhaps all of you had a father or uncle killed that day. They are trying to come here again. Stopping trucks at the passes is just their first step. I left my home once. I will not leave again. The Americans can help us prepare for the day the Taliban come again.”
There was a long silence. The men of Sharidure looked at each other, nodded, then stood. It was agreed. They would all prepare to defend their homes, and the Americans could help.
They returned to the carpentry shop to tell the Americans of their decision. Ali invited the soldiers to stay for the night, and they would talk more in the morning.
When Ali returned to his house, he found Nafisa, his sister Shireen, and his children all eager to know more about the Americans. He explained to his family about what was decided. They had many questions he couldn’t answer, and they seemed glad to have help.
***
“My name is Ali. The people have asked me to speak to you about your help.”
“I am Colonel Elliot.” The American leader knew some Farsi. He turned to his translator and asked him to explain how they could help the people of Sharidure.
“Ali, my name is Ahmroodeen. I have been training with this group of Americans for three months. Colonel Elliot is a good man. We can help you. We didn’t tell you, but last night, we had guards posted to warn of any danger.”
This would be the first of several surprises to the Americans. “Yes, I know. Our guards were protecting your guards.” Ali smiled as he said this and he smiled even more when he saw the reactions of Ahmroodeen and Colonel Elliot.
“How many guards did you have out?” asked Colonel Elliot.
Ali thought he noticed a tone of respect from both. “We have three posts. We rotate men every four hours. I’m sorry we don’t have more. We are also covering another post.”
“How many men do you have at a post?” Colonel Elliot was doing a quick calculation and wanted to know more about Ali and his men.
“Just one. We don’t have very many men.”
“So that’s eight in an eight hour period. Are they on guard during the daytime, too?”
“Yes.”
“So that’s twenty-four in a full day. So you have at least twenty-four men?”
“Yes.” Ali was thinking about the fact that they had only twenty-four rifles. That was another reason they had just one person on a shift at each post. He wasn’t ready t
o tell that to the American.
“You mentioned another post. Is it overlooking your town? I know you have three roads into Sharidure . That’s where we posted our guards, but you already know where we had our guards.” He said the last sentence with a chuckle.
When he heard the translation from Ahmroodeen, it was Ali’s turn to smile. He was beginning to like this outsider. He was also ready to share some new information. “We are guarding some Taliban prisoners we captured in a raid the night before you came. They are in a hotel some distance away from here.”
Now, the colonel and the translator were really surprised and gaining more respect by the minute for these supposedly untrained, unarmed, simple townspeople. “We might have a few things to learn from the people of Sharidure.”
Ali went on to explain how they had captured the Taliban in the night raid. He also told them about the first raid and how they sent that group back where they came from. The colonel had many questions about their strategy, how many men they used, how they knew where to attack. He nodded his head in approval at each part of the plan.
Ali asked him what he thought they should do with the Taliban. He explained to the colonel the Sharidure fighters thought they should release them like they had the first group. He went on to explain their thinking, that they wanted the Taliban to know they were not going to be able to take over Sharidure again, and they were ready to fight. They also wanted the Taliban to go back to their homes, and they were welcome to stay in the Pushtu speaking area because that was their home. The people from Sharidure were not interested in taking someone else’s home from them or trying to tell them how to live.