Noor Khiel, Afghanistan • Among the huge challenges it faces in taking over from the departing U.S. and NATO armies, Afghanistan’s new army is up against the myth that its troops aren’t Muslims.
Taliban propaganda has sought to plant the notion that because it works with foreign forces, the Afghan National Army must be a heathen one. So when villagers see his soldiers drop to their knees in mid-patrol and recite the daily prayer, they’re surprised, says Lt. Col. Abdul Wakil Warzajy, a battalion commander. "Until they see us praying," he says, "they think that we are like the foreigners — infidels."
From the Soviet invasion of 1979 through the ensuing civil wars, from the rise of the warlords and their militias to the U.S.-led invasion that followed the 9/11 attacks, ordinary Afghans can barely remember having had an army they could call their own.
Once the foreign troops are gone in 2014, Afghanistan’s defenses will depend entirely on a force being molded from poorly educated recruits, many of whom complain of feeling under-armed, undertrained and up against an elusive enemy.
An Associated Press reporter and photographer recently spent two weeks with four different units in provinces where the Taliban is strong, and heard of equipment shortages, rifles that jam, and fears that once the U.S. and NATO aircraft are gone, remote and important outposts will become inaccessible and have to close.
And alongside ample evidence that Afghan commanders are working hard to instill discipline and a sense of mission in the new force, there are fears that once the Westerners have left, the country will again splinter into militias ruled by warlords.
At 203 Thunder Corps in eastern Afghanistan’s Gardez Province, soldiers have to leave their weapons at the gate. That’s because renegades among them could attack NATO soldiers — 26 killed in 19 incidents this year, by AP count — but also because in an army that reflects the country’s mosaic of rival ethnicities, an argument could escalate into a firefight.
Abdul Haleem Noori, a colonel in his 60s who remembers the old Afghan army of the 1980s, said training used to last months. Now it’s six weeks.
"Today we have no discipline. If a soldier doesn’t want to go somewhere he doesn’t," he said in an interview at the Thunder Corps base. "We should not have been looking for quantity. We should have been looking at the quality of our soldiers but we had to adhere to the timetable of the foreigners and now we are not ready."
U.S. Gen. John Allen, the top commander of U.S. and NATO forces, told the AP that the Afghan army and police force were proving increasingly capable in action. About 90 percent of coalition operations now are partnered with Afghan forces, and Afghan forces are in the lead more than 40 percent of the time, he said in an interview July 22.
The army is likely to number around 200,000 by year’s end, but that’s not enough, said Lt. Yaldash Roasoli, an Afghan soldier standing outside the 203 Thunder Corps firing range. "Even in 30 years we cannot be ready," he complained. "If you asked me what a tactical maneuver is I couldn’t tell you. That is the kind of training we have had."
The new force’s commando units have been tested in high-profile Taliban attacks in the past year, including one on the U.S. Embassy in Kabul, and have won high praise from the Afghan government and the U.S. ANA commanders say they are beginning to win the trust of villagers, who prefer the soldiers to police.
But Mark Schneider, senior vice president of the International Crisis Group that is tracking Afghanistan’s self-defense effort, says overall, a decade of training and $35 billion have fallen short of expectations. "It is going to be a difficult process to enable them to be the hand-off partner" for the departing Western forces, he said in a telephone interview.
For the Afghan army, just identifying the enemy is a difficult task.
As a force moves into the village of Noor Khiel in eastern Logar province, Warzajy, the battalion commander, is wary. A veteran of the civil wars, a former bodyguard to a fabled warlord, he knows when he’s in Taliban country, and this is an area where troops have come under rocket fire and automatic rifles are fired from inside village homes.
For now there are no insurgents in evidence, but as Warzajy points out, when his troops move in, the Taliban move out. "Sometimes they don’t even leave. They pick up a shovel and say they’re just innocent farmers."
The village is a reminder of Afghanistan’s 30-plus years of agony. Some of its houses were bombed out long ago as long ago as during the Soviet occupation. A 25-year-old soldier named Qadratullah slips through a gaping shell hole in a ruined house. "I don’t know when it was destroyed," he says. "All I know is, it was one of the wars. Always there has been war in Afghanistan."
The troops have set up a checkpoint. A gray-bearded man in a stopped car is gesticulating wildly. He pleads with Sgt. Maseed Ahmed for his son, a shopkeeper, who he says was picked up after two policemen died in a Taliban attack on a checkpost. He insists his son has no connection with the Taliban. Ahmed sends him to the battalion headquarters where he can get help to find his son.
"Sometimes the police just take people for money," Ahmed said. "People don’t trust the police but they slowly are beginning to trust that the ANA will help them."
On this operation the soldiers didn’t enter any homes. Their job, Ahmed said, was simply "to let the villagers and the Taliban know we are here."
The troops seized a motorcycle festooned with plastic flowers. Ahmed said the Taliban were thought to have used it to transport and plant explosives. A man was arrested along with his son because a second son was believed to belong to the Taliban.Next Page >
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