200 examples of older versions of Soviet armored combat vehicles, but fitted with the engines, armament, fire control [including thermal sights] and running gear of the latest and best Russian fighting vehicles. In a swell test of such equipment in the field, perhaps involving some *advisors* or *technicians* involved with the further development of that material. And also perhaps veterans of an earlier visit in Afghanistan, with an interest in evening the balance for some of their fallen fellow afgantsy, perhaps.
They may well not have been Americans, but Russian.
Nonetheless, it is reasonable to believe that a lot of heavy stuff was happening there, not covered by Western press.
Concur. Aside from the direct conflict between the Northern Alliance and the Taliban/Al Qaeda supporters, the possibilities of old tribal, political or hired conflicting loyalties could well also be at work, as well as any number of permutations of possible lifelong feuds and vendetti.
I'm sure that that's just how we wnated it played too.
Having previously worked with the T-55 tank, I had the opportunity to go to Afghanistan as one of the American *trainers* working with the reformed Afghani tank battalion/s; I picked a standby job that didn't call for my involvement unless the principal American officer involved became incapacitated instead, and that happily didn't come to pass. But watching the Afghanis play Bukashi from armored vehicles instead of horseback would have been...interesting.
During the festive Muslim holiday celebration of Eid I attended a Bukashi match sponsored by Shamooq, the senior military commander in Mazar.From Gittoes' Report The art of survival, March, 2002
In this game, red and black teams of horsemen compete to place the body of a headless calf in one of the two lime white circles at either end of the field. The captains of each team wear the headgear of a tank officer (padded leather - taken from the dead bodies of Russian armoured crew) .The game seems to have few rules but requires consummate riding skill and daring. Also, the riders in this brutal contest have served under Shamooq, who sits cross-legged and turbaned - a warrior lord - in the central position at the front of the grandstand. Often, horses and horsemen crush together up against the concrete of the stand, within touching distance of their unflinching leader.
The audience for the Bukashi tournament sits on concrete tiers. Conspicuously, two armed American Special Forces officers have been given seats of honour to watch the event, and be watched - the new allies. These big, clean, highly groomed Americans stand out from the turbaned Afghans, not just because they have been given the only white plastic seats, elevating them above all others, but because of their freshness - they have a Hollywood artificiality, as if they had stepped out from McDonald's self-closing doors, air-conditioning hissing behind them, to find themselves, like the cast of Stargate, in another dimension. Their Special Forces M16 rifles resemble toy ray guns beside the Afghan's ancient Kalashnikovs. As a photographer I noticed the new top-of-the-line professional Nikon one of the Americans used to snap his souvenir pics.
Then there is a surprise turn of events - the star rider offers his best horse to the American ally. The tallest of the two American soldiers at first shows reticence about accepting the offer to ride, but his colleague prods him into action.
Once on the horse, the expectation was that he would show off his equestrian skills and join the game - but his horse had another idea and bolted, galloping off in the other direction with the American struggling to keep in the saddle. The crowd roared with laughter. It took a long time and several Afghan handlers before the horse was brought under control and the American could dismount with a degree of dignity. At least he was not thrown.
This farce reinforced my impression that Afghanistan is a kind of Disneyland for the US forces and media.
The sheer scale of Mazlakh refugee camp is overwhelming. This camp on the Iranian border, outside of Herat, has the sense of an exodus of biblical proportions - a sea of suffering humanity stretching out to distant mountains at the horizon.
This vision shimmers not from a heat haze - it is very cold - but from human movement. Standing on the roof of our truck to get some sense of perspective, all these moving dots in the landscape resembled digital imaging, pixels on a gigantic computer screen. My brain could not cope with the reality that all these moving elements in this infinitely detailed panorama were people with needs like clean water, medicine for sick children, food and latrines.
AWWKKK!!
That sure puts a different spin on it.
And here I thought you were just an ole newspaper fella cuttin' and pastin' away....