A small audio taster for the new novel narrated by the brilliant Kerry Hutchinson. Very excited to have Kerry on board for this as he has done some fantastic audiobooks for other authors that I enjoy reading and listening to.
First Chapter of my new novel scheduled for publication Feb 2022
1
SPECIAL OPERATIONS BARRACKS, GHAZNI PROVINCE, AFGHANISTAN, AUGUST 2021
Her eyes snapped open and she sprang from the thin mattress, reaching for her boots as she flinched at the explosions shattering the night. Heavy machine-gun fire accompanied a cadence of crumps from the mortars that were creeping closer to the small barracks where, until moments before, she had been sound asleep. Boots tied, Samira stood, scrunched her long, dark hair into a ponytail and secured it with a hairband, flinching as the concussion from a mortar round buffeted the thin metal walls of her room.
They were getting closer.
Bending, she scooped up her tac-vest and threw it over her head, fastening the Velcro side panels to fit to her body. Running her hands across the pouches, Samira nodded, satisfied that she had her full complement of ammunition and grenades. From the rack under the window, she retrieved her rifle, attached the sling to a clip on her tac-vest, removed and checked the magazine before reloading the weapon and cocking it. Another explosion shattered the windows and she turned her face away for a brief moment before picking up her helmet, giving a sharp tug on the attached Night Vision Goggles to ensure they were secure. As she donned the Kevlar helmet, Samira could hear the urgency in the voices carrying through the chaos of the fighting outside. Making her way towards the door, she smelled smoke and saw, for the first time, the flicker of fire from somewhere near the armoury. The voices were louder now and Samira identified some of them. Sergeant Khan directing a sniper to start finding targets. Captain Noor ordering someone to get air support immediately. Other voices calling urgently for information on the enemy’s positions.
She burst out of her accommodation as a mortar exploded among the vehicles parked near the gate, pieces of Humvees now lethal projectiles in their own right as they scythed through the air at speed. Men were shouting as they spilled out from their sleeping quarters where, like Samira only moments before, they’d been resting peacefully. Samira ran at a low crouch towards the familiar figure of Captain Noor as he stood talking into a satellite phone and barking out commands to the commandos around him. He looked up as she approached and lowered the handset to address her.
‘This is not good. Somehow more than two hundred Taliban have entered the city and taken control. It appears that all the other Army and Police positions have been abandoned and the troops deserted. We are the only point of resistance and we must hold. I am trying to get reinforcements and air support but nobody is answering. And we have no radio comms, must have been knocked out.’
Samira shook her head. ‘I don’t understand, how could they get here so fast without us knowing? Where were the warnings from Headquarters? The Americans?’
Noor spat. ‘My suspicion is that our Headquarters have abandoned the Province, and us, to save their own skins. I’m just about to call Kabul and get them to support directly.’
Samira struggled to comprehend the enormity of Noor’s words. The rank and file of the Afghan military had been deserting in droves, abandoning towns, cities and provinces ahead of the Taliban advance. But the Ktah Khas, the Special Unit, her unit, had always fought. Always. It’s what made them different. What had made the difference for the past ten years. As the American draw-down had taken effect it had become apparent very quickly that the Afghan security forces would fail. But the Ktah Khas had not failed. Had continued with the fight. Even now, as the Taliban made great gains through the country, Samira and her fellow commandos had been taking the fight to the enemy. She was brought back to the moment by Noor grasping her shoulder.
‘Go to the roof with the sniper and give me updates on the enemy positions so that I can inform air support if they ever answer. GO!’
Samira spun and ran towards the main building complex, bounding up the external staircase and on to the roof. In the dim light she could see the sniper positioned at the southern end of the roof and she called out as she approached him, crouching as she ran. ‘Friendlies approaching rear, friendlies approaching rear.’ She slid next to the sniper, taking care not to bump him, lowered her NVGs and activated the laser sighting on her carbine as she spoke. ‘What have we got?’
The sniper, a new member to the unit, replied quietly. ‘At least two mortar teams out of view, recoilless rifles in closer and four or five groups closing in on all sides.’
Samira gave a sharp intake of breath. This was a significant force for their small unit to deal with at the best of times. But without air support? Insanity. She shook her head. ‘What’s your ammunition status?’
‘Good. I’ve brought spare, might need some help refilling the empty magazines.’ The sniper moved suddenly. ‘Fifty metres, half-left, base of building, four men, rifles and rockets.’
Samira looked through her NVGs, following the sniper’s indication and saw the men at once, noting the shoulder-mounted RPGs or rockets as the sniper called them. Flicking her safety catch to the ‘fire’ position, she moved her green laser over the torsos of three of the men as she spoke. ‘Marking targets.’
The sniper grunted in affirmation and Samira squeezed her trigger, firing small bursts of rounds into the chests of the men she’d painted with her laser. The suppressor of her carbine muffled much of the noise and she heard the sniper’s shot as he took out the final Taliban fighter. Samira scanned the kill site for several moments to confirm all four were dead. Turning her head to observe the other side of the street, she noticed a furtive movement through the green hue of her NVGs. She focussed her attention on the area but saw nothing further to indicate anything suspicious. Samira continued to monitor the street to her front, looking for targets, determined to engage them before they could get close to the base. The sniper whispered to her.
‘They’ve stopped the mortars. Everything is too quiet.’
Samira nodded her agreement but felt no relief; in her experience such a silence was usually the prelude to a concerted attack. Adrenalin was coursing through her, a familiar sensation as she anticipated the close-quarter combat to come. Below her, within the confines of the concrete walls, she could hear whispered directives being ushered as each commando came to the same conclusion she had arrived at: Something big was coming. She heard Captain Noor speak in English to one of the squadron’s Team Leaders and tell them that there would be no air support coming. Samira realised with a jolt that if Noor was talking in English he must believe the Taliban to be within earshot. Is that possible? She was about to ask the sniper when a riot of noise erupted from all directions as the base came under heavy attack. Chunks of wall exploded as RPGs and heavy machine-gun fire tore into the defensive structures. Mortars rained from above in numbers far in excess of what they had already experienced. Samira tried several times to return fire from her position but the wall around the roof was being shredded by the incredible weight of fire from the Taliban.
She rolled away from the wall and crawled to the other side of the roof as green tracer rounds ricocheted in crazed directions off the walls protecting her. At the other corner she took a deep breath and raised her head above the parapet, aiming her rifle. She saw a group of Taliban running across the wide road and engaged them immediately, their bodies dropping on to the hard-packed dirt road as her rifle clattered and bucked in her shoulder. Samira dropped back behind her cover just as a heavy burst of fire tore into the wall sending chunks of stone into the air. She rolled away from the area and tucked herself against another corner, changed magazines and tried to work out what she was going to do. The noise was horrific; a constant barrage of explosions and weapons’ fire tearing the defences of their small base to pieces. She looked up as the sniper sprinted towards her and dropped to her side breathing heavily.
‘I can’t do anything from up here, they have us surrounded and pinned down. I’m going down to help with the fight there. Why is there no air support?’
Without waiting for an answer, he took off at a crouch and made it to the staircase, quickly dropping out of sight. Samira rose to her knees to follow him when a giant explosion rocked the entire building, deafening her and knocking her over. She shook her head and pushed herself up just as a second, more violent blast lifted the entire roof several feet and lit up the sky in a hellish illumination of red and orange. Samira’s breath was knocked out of her as the roof dropped and began collapsing under her feet. With no time to collect her thoughts she staggered towards the stairwell as giant slabs of the roof began falling into the darkness beneath her. She was dimly aware of an increase in the shooting below but focussed on making it to the stairs. As she reached them she noted that they remained mostly intact but were twisted and buckled in some places. In the compound below she saw a giant hole in the perimeter wall and the warped, burning chassis of a car: The standard Taliban suicide borne vehicle bomb. She had no doubt that the explosion on the other side of the base had also been a car bomb. The stairs moved under her weight but didn’t come away from the wall. Samira took the steps several at a time, determined to get to the ground before they collapsed underneath her. They groaned in protest and sagged a little but they held and she gave an unconscious grunt of gratitude as her feet hit the earth of the compound.
She began running towards the last place where she had seen Captain Noor but dropped to the ground as a stream of bullets zipped past her face. Samira rolled on to her side and raised the carbine up to face the threat. Two Taliban ran towards her, adjusting their aim as they approached but she engaged both men before they could focus on her prone figure, cutting them down mid-stride. Without pause for thought, she was on her feet again, sprinting towards the Operations Office and, hopefully, Captain Noor. All around her, heavy fire was being exchanged at close quarters as the Taliban continued to breach the base. Her ears were ringing but she could still hear explosions and feel the blast waves as grenades and RPGs detonated within the walled compound. A movement caught her eye and in the darkness beyond, she saw a green laser being waved around in a circle and was grateful for the signal that identified the rally point. As she reached the location, she saw it was a small corner that had been fortified with sandbags and whatever solid cover the commandos behind it had managed to grab. Samira clambered over the raised protection and landed on her back before rising to her knees and taking in her new surroundings.
There were six of her fellow commandos returning fire while several others were sat with backs against the sandbags, yelling into telephones. Samira saw that Captain Noor was among them, alternating between a satellite phone and a conventional one. She could tell by his expression that things were bad; she had never seen concern on his face before but now he was shouting into the phones, frustration and anger contorting his features. She was about to make her way to him when the commando standing beside her dropped suddenly, collapsing to the ground. Samira grabbed him by the straps of his tac-vest and turned him over to check for injury. The blackened eye socket pooling dark blood and the limp body told her the commando was dead, not injured. Taking several of the dead man’s magazines and a couple of grenades from his tac-vest, she stuffed them into her own pouches. She then sprang up, rifle on aim and took the commando’s place. Her first burst cut down a Taliban fighter who was already aiming his RPG at their position. As he fell dying to the ground, the weapon went off and the projectile screamed harmlessly into the night sky.
Movement to her left caught her eye and she turned her weapon to face it but lowered her aim as she identified the sniper and another commando sprinting towards her. Samira moved to one side as the men leapt the small barricade and took cover. She turned her attention back to the fight and opened fire on a small group of Taliban who were attempting to reach the stairs. She saw two of them drop but the other pair retreated around the corner of the building and out of sight. Someone stood beside her and she saw that it was the sniper, long rifle up on aim and firing into the darkness beyond. Samira scanned the area for further targets but none presented themselves to her. She could hear Captain Noor talking to someone on the phone and cursing whoever was on the other end. Again, so out of character from a commander they respected for his calm, considered leadership. The sniper bumped his hip against hers to get Samira’s attention.
‘He’s not going to get any air support. I spoke to my cousin who is a policeman in Kabul and he told me it’s chaos up there as all the foreigners are flying out of the country.’ He turned his face to look at her. ‘They’re leaving. The Americans, the British, all of them. They are running away.’
Samira stared at the sniper as he turned his attention back to monitoring his fields of fire. It couldn’t be true. Their American partners had sworn to them that they would always be here. Yes, in smaller numbers but the Special Forces would never leave Afghanistan. Would always be there to provide air support and intelligence to the Ktah Khas. She shook her head; the sniper’s cousin would have heard a rumour and, in typical Afghan fashion, exaggerated the facts to make it more interesting. But the seed of doubt remained. Even when air support hadn’t been immediately available to their missions in the past, a reason and alternative was always provided. This time felt different: Getting no response to their support request was unheard of and for the first time since the battle began, Samira felt a small stab of fear in her stomach. She’d been with the unit for over three years and had been a commando with the British-mentored CF 333 before that. Had fought hundreds of engagements with the Taliban, ISIS-K and Al Qaeda. Been wounded and injured many times over the years but had never believed her death was imminent. Until now. She turned to look at Captain Noor just as the sniper screamed a warning.
‘CAR BOMB FRONT ENTRANCE!’
Samira threw herself to the ground, covered her ears and opened her mouth as the air was split by an apocalyptic explosion and a blast wave that destroyed the cover around the commandos. She shook debris off her back and legs and turned to face the direction the blast had come from, knowing that a follow-up team of shooters would be racing towards them. Around her the other commandos were doing the same and a heavy weight of fire was soon streaming across the compound, the bullets tearing into the dozen Taliban attempting to cross the open ground. There was a lull when the last man fell and Samira used the time to change magazines and take stock of their situation. Looking around the remnants of their ruined position, she saw four bodies on the ground and two injured receiving treatment from the medic. Their cover from fire now consisted of a mere two levels of sandbags, barely enough to lie behind for protection.
Captain Noor crawled forward until he was in their midst and Samira moved to one side to give her commander some room as he addressed them quietly.
‘The situation is bad. We are alone and no help is coming. No help is coming ever again. The Americans are leaving Afghanistan now. They started last night and will all be gone by today. The world has turned its back on us.’ He paused and shook his head. ‘From what I have learned from my contacts many of our senior officers have also run, taken flights to Dubai and Qatar to go and count their money.’ He spat on the ground before looking up again. ‘The Taliban are expected to reach Kabul by tonight at the latest and will probably take it with little to no resistance. Who will fight them without the support of our allies and no command structure from our own security forces?’
Samira cleared her throat before speaking. ‘So, what is the plan?’
The Captain let the question hang in the eerie quiet before replying. ‘There is one piece of good news. All Ktah Khas commandos and other special ops soldiers will be evacuated from the country under the order of the Americans and British. Their families will also be allowed to go with them.’
A murmur ran through the small group and the Captain raised his hand.
‘But . . . the airlifts will only take place from Kabul airport. Nowhere else. And by the time we make it there, the city will be under Taliban control.’
The sniper faced his commander.
‘What do you want us to do, Sir? There’s too many Taliban out there for us to kill. Another attack like that last one and we will be defeated.’
The Captain opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sound of a voice coming from a loudhailer beyond the compound walls.
‘Captain Noor, Captain Noor. Can you hear me?’
The commandos remained silent and focussed on the darkness around them as the disembodied voice continued.
‘Captain Noor, please answer me. You and your soldiers have put up a very brave fight. There is no need for anyone else to die here. Let us talk like men.’
Noor cleared his throat and shouted his reply. ‘I can hear you. Who are you and what do you want?’
The reply was immediate. ‘Captain Noor, I am Qari Hazrat, commander of over two hundred mujahideen fighters surrounding your base. We control the entire province and it is now part of our glorious Islamic Emirate. By nightfall we will take Kabul and clear it of the infestation of parasites and blasphemers who sit on their gilded thrones. Then the Taliban will rule this Islamic Emirate by the will and laws of Allah and his prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him. So, to keep fighting is not necessary. Surrender, give up your weapons and you will be free to return to your homes if you give your word that you will never take up arms against the rightful rulers of the Emirate.’
The silence was almost absolute, broken only by the occasional wail from the wounded beyond the walls and the cackling from fires burning within the base. Noor leaned into the group as he spoke in a quiet voice.
‘I don’t trust him. I don’t trust any Taliban. I don’t believe he would honour such a surrender. But . . . we can’t defeat them. No one is coming to our aid. I can’t order you what to do anymore. The time has come for each of you to make your own choice.’
The sniper spoke up, voice raised in frustration and fear. ‘What choice? Surrender or die?’
The Captain regarded him. ‘There is another option; run. We fight our way out of here, make it to the streets and find a way to Kabul.’
The sniper shook his head. ‘They have every street blocked, I saw it from the roof. And even if we did survive and get out of the city, you heard him, they have control of the whole country.’
Samira met Noor’s gaze. ‘I’m running. There’s no choice for me. You know what will happen if those animals get their hands on me, no matter what they promise.’
Noor nodded. ‘I’m running too. We are Ktah Khas; the Taliban know we have been responsible for killing so many of them that I don’t believe they will let us go.’
The sniper leaned in, hissing his objections. ‘Where are you running to? You really believe you can make it all the way to Kabul? And even if you do, then what? Check in at the Ariana desk, enjoy some green tea in the departure lounge while you wait for your flight? No! Everything will be in Taliban hands, including the airport. I think we should put down our guns and negotiate.’
Noor’s response was halted by the interruption from the loudhailer beyond the walls.
‘Captain Noor, time is running out. I need your answer now. It is a good offer for you and your men. Take it but take it now as I am losing patience.’
Noor spoke quickly. ‘Show of hands; who is running?’
Samira looked around and saw that, along with her and Noor, only Sergeant Khan raised his hand. Noor spoke again.
‘Three of us. That leaves six who want to negotiate, yes?’
Samira confirmed the count and nodded at Noor who pointed to the sniper.
‘You. You will take charge of the group who want to negotiate. It is better the Taliban hear one voice to avoid confusion and honour their agreement. So, speak to Qari Hazrat now. Let him know you will be coming out of the front entrance, unarmed, carrying wounded and that you accept his conditions.’
The sniper nodded. ‘What are you going to do?’
Noor shook his head. ‘No. It’s better you know nothing of our plans in case they change their minds and torture you. If you know nothing you can tell them nothing. Now speak before he changes his mind.’
The sniper paused for a moment then turned, placing his rifle on the ground and cupping both hands to his mouth as he yelled. ‘We accept your merciful terms and are coming out, unarmed and carrying our wounded brothers.’
There was silence for several seconds before the reply.
‘A wise decision. Come out of the front entrance in single file unless you are helping the wounded. If we see any weapons we will kill you all.’
The sniper motioned for his group to take control of the casualties. Captain Noor gripped the younger man’s shoulder.
‘May Allah bless and care for you brother. Go now and know we will do nothing until all of you have left.’ With that, Noor grabbed Samira and Sergeant Khan, pulling them out of earshot from the remainder.
‘Plan: Samira, prepare a Humvee for us. Khan, you and I set demolitions to breach the wall on the south perimeter that will give us direct access to the widest part of the road. This should catch them off-guard; they’ll be expecting any escape to come from one of the gates. We can’t move the vehicle until the breach so we will set it, join Samira in the Humvee, detonate the charge then drive through the gap. We go fast and we go hard, try to use as many of the main roads as possible for speed then cut west on the tracks when necessary. If we lose the vehicle we steal another by whatever means we can. The quicker we reach Kabul, the sooner we know what we are dealing with. Questions?’
There were none. Samira ran to the vehicle parking area and selected one of the Humvees furthest away from the damaged ones. The vehicles were always ready for immediate deployment but she went through the checks anyway. The .50 Calibre heavy machine gun was loaded and its complement of ammunition stored as she had expected. Grab-bags of medical, food, water, ammunition for the carbines and batteries for the NVGs and other equipment were all secured in their allocated spaces. Four M-72 light anti-armour weapons strapped against the vehicle framework completed the inventory. After a quick check that the ignition fired, Samira turned the vehicle off, opened the doors and waited. She couldn’t see Noor and Khan from her position but knew from experience the men would be quick. She attempted to slow her breathing, nerves kicking in now that she was not active. She watched as the small column of those who chose to surrender shuffled past her, the healthy supporting the weight of the wounded. Their distorted shadows danced like demons in the red hues from the light cast by the fires and the smoke plumes drifting across the compound. Samira didn’t believe the Taliban would hold up their side of the agreement. They loathed the Ktah Khas. Hated them worse than they despised the Americans even. No, Samira had no faith that her colleagues making their way to the front entrance of the base would ever see their homes again. A Taliban prison perhaps, but not their homes.
Movement drew her attention and she saw the figures of Noor and Khan sprinting towards her. Noor leapt into the passenger seat and Khan took the rear, the Sergeant pushing himself out of the top cover and taking control of the .50 Cal. He was also watching the movement of the sniper’s group as they made their way towards the front entrance. Monitoring their progress, Khan counted down the distance the group had to cover before reaching the gate and updated Noor and Samira.
‘Thirty metres . . . twenty metres . . . ten metres . . . last man through.’ He dropped back into the vehicle as Noor fired the remote detonation unit. The explosion shook the compound and the flash lit up the entire area as Samira started the ignition and floored the accelerator, propelling the vehicle forward. Using only the infra-red headlights and her NVGs, she sped towards the roiling smoke and dust cloud and saw the wide breach in the wall. They hit the rubble at the base of the breach and the Humvee was airborne for a brief moment before the vehicle landed, bounced then skidded as Samira turned it on to the wide thoroughfare of the road. Khan was already back up and manning the machine-gun as Noor stared ahead and gave clear directions.
‘Road-block, thirty metres, no alternative route. Engage.’
Sergeant Khan opened up with the heavy machine-gun, the large rounds slamming into the vehicles and men blocking the road ahead. Samira aimed the Humvee at a point where two vehicles had been reversed against each other, knowing that they would provide less resistance than the front of a car where the heavy engine block was situated. There was a pause in the firing as Khan dropped back down and secured himself an instant before the Humvee smashed into the roadblock, the big American vehicle sending the smaller cars spiralling away into the darkness, metal screeching and sparks flying. Khan was back up in the turret as the Taliban opened fire from behind them, the booming reply of his heavy machine-gun soon silencing even that token resistance. Noor clapped Samira’s shoulder.
‘Good work. Take the next left then immediate right. After that it’s only a couple of kilometres to the highway.’ He was silent then, his attention focussed on the streets around them as the Humvee sped along the deserted roads. The streets were dark and empty for the most part, the occasional corpse on the road the only sign that any life had existed at all. There was no pursuit and other than the sounds of sporadic gunfire in distant parts of the city, almost no indication of further Taliban presence. Despite this, Samira’s stomach was tensed in anticipation of ambush or encountering another roadblock. Risking a quick glance at Noor she could see from her commander’s intense focus to their front that he was feeling the same way. Samira continued to follow Noor’s directions and breathed a sigh of relief when they burst out of a side street and hit the main highway, the Humvee’s tyres squealing in protest as she spun the wheel to point the vehicle north.North to Kabul.
Now that the dust has settled somewhat since the Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan, the terrorist group find themselves in the strange position of actually having what they’ve been fighting for over the last 20 years.
But they’re not finding it easy.
Their jubilation at the scrambled retreat of their Western foes now replaced by the harsh realities of trying to govern a country that didn’t elect them into position. Taliban commanders, IED makers and fighters now fill national, regional and local authority positions with no background or even experience with which to assist them. Rewarded for their loyalties during the fighting with status and power but with zero ability to perform in their new roles. With no legitimate money coming into the country, salaries and wages can’t be paid to encourage Afghan citizens to take up positions and get the country moving again.
Women sent home and told not to work. That it is demeaning, un-Islamic and the Taliban are saving them from themselves. Females turned away from universities and colleges as, with no women in the workplace under Taliban rule, why do they need any education? The former Afghan Security Forces hiding among trusted family members knowing that they remain targets for Taliban reprisals. Only last week a former sniper from the British-mentored CF333 was gunned down in the street by a Taliban death squad who had been looking for him for weeks.
And what of the Taliban themselves? I’ve said it before but it’s important to remember that there is no one Taliban. Rather, it is a collective of groups currently unified under one common purpose. And now that they have achieved that purpose, we will soon see the fragmentation process begin. Tribal affiliations, ethnic groupings, familial rivalries, are all elements that have more power to divide than unite. There is also the major factor of their implementation of Sharia law. Some Taliban have a far stricter interpretation of this than others and there will be internecine conflict between the leadership and the rank and file about how this is implemented. When these differences become too great to bridge or compromise, the fractures will start.
Those advocating harsh Sharia implementation will clash with the more moderate adherents. Individuals will proclaim themselves as the true believers and, with their followers, break from the main group. They will stake a claim to territories and governance bringing them in direct conflict with their former leadership and contemporaries. Violence will inevitably follow with each side claiming the moral high ground in the conflict. Loyalties and patronage will be called upon to support the warring factions, further dividing the unity of the Taliban.
And lets not forget that the hardline Islamic State-Khorasan or ISIS-K as it is referred to, remains active in Afghanistan. And only too willing to see the Taliban divided and opportunities to extend their own organisation with disaffected Taliban ranks who believe that Taliban governance of the new Islamic Emirate is not harsh enough. The Taliban already knows that ISIS-K see themselves as the true Mujahideen and heir to the throne of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan. Further fighting between the groups is a given.
And what of Al Qaeda? The reason that, for all intents and purposes we embarked on this 20+ years of military adventurism? Will they gravitate in numbers back to Afghanistan? A Hijra or migration to the new promised land? Safe in the knowledge that the Taliban will be happy to host their presence once again? The truth is that the Taliban and Al Qaeda are linked by the latter’s oath of allegiance, a bay’ah, that stems from the 1990s and was reaffirmed by Al Qaeda in 2016. Evidence of this has been seen recently in online jihadi chat rooms where extremists are openly discussing relocating from Syria to the new Islamic Emirate, already assured of the welcome that awaits them.
It’s tempting to resort to black humour and see the new Afghanistan as becoming little more than a dystopian Disneyland for terrorists and extremists. But that would detract from the suffering and hardships that another group in the country are already undergoing: The Afghan people. Brutalised and exhausted by decades of fighting and violence, it seems that they are set for another extended period of the same. After the Soviet Union left Afghanistan, the warlords tore the country apart as they vied for power and the spoils of the victor. When the Taliban began taking control of regions and implementing law and order, they were initially welcomed by the long-suffering citizens, grateful for the stability this group provided. Such was the wanton destruction and carnage they’d suffered during the warlords’ fighting.
And, in my opinion, history is probably going to repeat itself as the Taliban fractures into dissident groupings battling for control of the country. Battling with ISIS-K, bringing their Al Qaeda allies into the conflict to support and assist. Attracting defeated and disaffected jihadists from around the globe, keen to prove their twisted commitment to their faith. Pulling in the state actors of Pakistan, India, Iran, Russia, China, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan as the Great Game of history further repeats itself. As we in the West monitor the situation closely for any hint that the country becomes the de facto platform for the planning and launching of terrorist attacks against our nations.
Pessimistic? Perhaps, but in my experience pessimism in these situations usually pans out to be closer to realism than not. To the jubilant Taliban, Afghanistan has added another empire to its list of those who came, saw and failed to conquer. But it would benefit them more to remember this as a lesson rather than cause for gloating. Because the Graveyard of Empires they have inherited has shown through history over and over again, that it is not for the holding. That it favours none, not even the brave.
Not even the Taliban.
In an article I wrote almost 18 months ago, (https://www.jamesemack.com/have-the-taliban-won/) I covered what I thought a strategic withdrawal from Afghanistan would look like. Back then, the United States was talking about troop reductions in order to return control of the country back to the people of Afghanistan whose Security Forces were now deemed capable of this task. I wrote then that I considered this the beginning of an exit strategy and nothing else. Twenty years, trillions of dollars and thousands of deaths bringing the world’s superpowers to the line in the powder-fine, Afghan sand. I described how I thought the Afghan Security Forces would fail to hold ground, surrender and abandon their positions. How with no Air support, Intelligence provision and joint-mission hand-holding, there was no hope of the Afghans holding back the Taliban advance.
Sadly, all this has come to pass. Even as I write this piece, last week’s Pentagon assessment that the Taliban could take Kabul in a year has been hastily revised to the more realistic timeframe of 3 weeks. With most key provincial cities under or about to be under Taliban control, this is not just a pessimistic, worst-case scenario: It is a very real possibility. The city of Pol e Khomri, a mere 140 miles north of Kabul, was taken by the Taliban the evening before I began writing this. Afghan news footage of soldiers and police abandoning bases and stripping off uniforms in anticipation of Taliban victories showing the sad reality of life on the ground.
The Taliban have capitalised on our withdrawal from Afghanistan with a speed and ferocity that has surprised many. For me, I’m just surprised they’re surprised. Since the Taliban regrouped and re-entered the conflict in the early 2000s, they have consistently displayed tenacity for the long game and the capacity to launch fast, large-scale operations resulting in successes and gains beyond which they were deemed capable. The capture of the city of Kunduz in 2015 a good example of this. The largest city in the north-east of the country with a population of around 400,000. Despite being defended by Afghan and American Special Forces, the city fell quickly and had to be retaken with considerable effort and a major allocation US military assets.
There is also surprise stated at the poor performance of the Afghan Security Forces and their unwillingness or inability to fight the Taliban. There shouldn’t be. In the twenty or so years I have had involvement with the country, I’ve never seen a completely autonomous, Afghan security initiative of any significance make a considerable achievement. It had been tried, and probably many times, but, in my experience and observations at least, there was always a coalition command, control or support element involved. Where handovers of certain elements such as specialist training courses were conducted under capacity-building initiatives, these also failed quickly. We tried, as usual, to emboss our Western democratic template on a third-world fiefdom of warlord states and tribal domains. Took our military and law-enforcement models and applied them to a patriarchal society where for centuries nepotism and familial loyalty determined positions of command and influence.
We tried hard to cut the head off the snake of corruption but found that it was so endemic and accepted as the cultural norm that it was the entire body of the snake we were dealing with. From Ministers to Generals, Colonels to Corporals, it was accepted that an integral benefit of your position was to feather your own nest. Senior military officers created ‘ghost’ units; military bodies that existed only on paper, drawing millions in dollars for base infrastructure, food, fuel, uniforms, weapons, vehicles, training and equipment for entities that didn’t exist in the physical world. Ministers squirrelled away funds intended for government initiatives to offshore accounts in the Middle East in preparation for their exodus once the Coalition cut and run. Which they were absolutely convinced we would eventually do. And in which they have been proved right. And the poor soldiers and policemen at the bottom of the pile? Often not receiving their salaries, or sometimes just a tiny portion of them as the hierarchal rank pyramid above them siphoned off their ‘cut’ before the pittance reached the rank and file? Based in Provinces and towns where it takes them days to return to their home villages? No commonality with the populations of these towns other than a very general nationality?
Demoralised and dejected, it’s little wonder they have no motivation to fight. Our model doesn’t work for them. They needed a completely different system that aligned with their cultures, ethos and identities. Plural. There is no one Afghanistan in terms of population identity. Hazaras, Pashtuns, Baluch, Tajik, Uzbek make up just some of the disparate demographics we tried to mould together under a unified national security infrastructure. When we saw that this wasn’t working particularly well, we came up with other, localised initiatives: Afghan Local Police, Khost Protection Force, Counter Terrorist Pursuit Teams. But still, our best laid plans to replicate our Western models always fell short of our aspirations. I once mooted to a senior coalition officer that we were effectively creating the best-trained militias in the world that would soon just be absorbed into their presiding warlord’s arsenal. He didn’t disagree.
The Taliban don’t fight for a pittance of a salary they might or might not receive. They don’t fight on behalf of a national concept they don’t really believe in. They don’t fight for a government that has no real influence beyond the surreal bubble of Kabul. They fight for their beliefs, twisted and abhorrent as they may be. They fight for their absolute conviction that they are returning Afghanistan to the Islamic Republic it was always meant to be. They have a unified goal, driven by their unshakable faith in their ideology and motivated daily by their successes. Which in turn gives them the affirmation that their god supports their struggle, wants them to win.
The Afghan Security Forces have none of this. And the government knows it. In desperation, President Ghani has formally requested assistance from regional warlords to defend and hold their lands against the Taliban advance; a clear acknowledgement that his Army is defeated. But it appears that even this request is too late to achieve anything more than small pockets of resistance as the Taliban sweep through the country conquering villages, towns and cities.
So as the Taliban look set to return Afghanistan to the Stone Age, the people of the country will once again, suffer horrifically. As our Western superpowers pull away from the sinking ship, other nations are considering their response. Russia, always keen to meddle and exploit an opportunity to needle the West, is taking a cautionary approach, bolstering troop numbers in former Soviet satellite states on the border with Afghanistan to monitor and intercept any potential Islamic fundamentalism from seeping through to Russia’s borders. China has already made clear its intention to have a major involvement in what happens in Afghanistan. The Taliban have confirmed they will engage with the Chinese which seems jarringly hypocritical when one considers the treatment of the Uighur Muslims at the hand of the Chinese State. But that’s part and parcel of the realpolitik that China deploys around the globe in its current advancement of influence.
Inevitably, our withdrawal from Afghanistan and the instant gains made by the Taliban draw comparisons with Vietnam. And not completely without merit: A prolonged, unpopular military campaign in a far-off country. A mission creep with ill-defined, shifting objectives. A determined enemy unconcerned by time constraints, budget, political appetites and changes in administrations. A ‘nation’ whose central government has little impact on much of the country beyond the capital. The deaths of of our bright and best young men and women.The deaths of thousands of innocent civilians.
There is an image that, for me at least, summarises the humiliating end game of the Vietnam War. It is the picture of the last helicopter evacuating the US Embassy in Saigon, a chain of figures on the roof of the building urgently boarding. the final flight as the city fell to the Viet Cong. With the latest Pentagon assessment that Kabul could fall within 3 weeks, is this something we can expect to see in Afghanistan? A Black Hawk helicopter evacuating the last few Embassy personnel as Taliban gunfire and mortars wreak havoc on the city?
I hope not. I would hope that with our UAVs, satellites and network of intelligence assets, advanced warning would enable rapid evacuation before the threat was so close. Which is all well and good for our deployed personnel. But for the Afghans in Kabul there is no last chopper. No Black Hawk to spirit them away from advancing hordes of black-turbaned fanatics. No sitting back in the aircraft seat, eyes closed, the smell of AvGas a comforting reminder they are being transported to safety.
For the Afghans, they are going back in time. Back to a time of brutality and repression that they believed had been consigned to history. Human, Gender, and Equal Rights progression not just halted but reversed. The one lifeline open to them would be that of a power-sharing initiative between the Taliban and an Afghan Government. And the country is in a desperate enough position where such an appeasement may be preferable to the government than the wholesale loss of the country to these fanatics. The problem with this though is that the Taliban don’t need to negotiate. They are in the dominant position, winning every battle and fight as they advance through the country. Why would they negotiate for a part of something that they know they will own completely in the near future?
But maybe that won’t happen. Maybe by some miracle and foreign intervention the siege of Kabul can be avoided. Maybe a coalition of warlords can stave off the worst until international assistance can be marshalled into place. Such assistance probably not being led by the West, our withdrawal commitment leaving no political face-saving possibilities for an about turn.
When all is said and done, I wouldn’t want to see a ‘last chopper out of Kabul’ scenario. Wouldn’t like to imagine the panic and fear of the Afghans in Kabul as our last people flew overhead on their way to safety as the enemy was at the gates. The Afghan’s rage as they felt abandoned by a superpower who hadn’t stayed the course they’d committed to. Or the sight of Taliban flags flying above the very institutions that the deaths of thousands of people, trillions of dollars spent, and twenty years of fighting had been invested to protect.
While they have been hammering away at it for some time now, the US has announced that they have finally reached an agreement with the leadership of the Taliban to conclude a peace deal. Let’s be clear; this isn’t a peace deal, it’s an exit strategy. We’re almost 20 years into this quagmire and the line was always going to be drawn at some point. When the Special Forces’ Task Forces routed the Taliban from Afghanistan in the wake of 9/11, their post-operational recommendation was very clear; flooding the country with occupying troops would be a rallying call to reinvigorate the Taliban and their jihadist allies. In the UK, however, I believe our collective military and political classes saw an opportunity to redress the historical stigma of our previous defeats in Afghanistan and couldn’t pass up on the chance to achieve this.
I spent over 3 years in Afghanistan with both UK and US military initiatives and observed first-hand the muddled objectives of our militaries deployments. The mission-creep encompassing a frankly embarrassing anti-narcotics focus, and all the way to our endgame status of handover of responsibility to the Afghan security forces for the protection of their own people and nation.
We extended our commitment to the deployment by conjuring up mission statements based upon our western templates of democracy and human rights. Education, Gender Equality, Healthcare to mitigate infant mortality, Anti-corruption, mentoring of Law Enforcement agencies to international compliance levels. And the list goes on.
Afghanistan remains a country where tribal and familial bonds far outweigh the tiny geographical influence that Kabul actually wields. Warlords continue to dominate and forge alliances based solely on personal gain and profit. Our well-intentioned first-world initiatives are not welcome or indeed remotely achievable, outside the ring of protective security around Kabul. Beyond this, and particularly in the remoter regions, life and law have changed very little over the centuries. So when our media reports success stories and heart-warming human interest pieces from the graveyard of empires, they do not reflect circumstances in the greater part of the country. Our twenty years of western intervention barely noticed in many regions.
So, this is an exit strategy that draws a line under the thousands of deaths and trillions of dollars that the 2 decades of this conflict has cost. And the future? Congratulatory soundbites from our Generals and political leaders lauding our achievements and how better off the country is after our ‘assistance’. The reality, of course, will be far more grim. Gloating Taliban will again dominate and control much of the country, initially portraying themselves as the saviours of the people. Then Taliban in-fighting as their collective breaks down and alliances are forged and formed, splinter groups and fragments turning on one another. At the same time, we will witness the collapse of the Afghan Security Forces, their effectiveness and capability nullified by the absent air superiority, intelligence provision and hand-holding that the coalition has been providing. Eventually, a return to full-scale conflict as warlords and jihadists vie for control of the country and the spoils of the capital and provincial cities.
This is not a pessimistic viewpoint by any means. A little-known fact, for me at least, is that when the Russians exited Afghanistan, it wasn’t the scurrying retreat that I had imagined. They actually conducted a comprehensive and documented handover of military bases, equipment and infrastructure as well as training in the maintenance and care required for upkeep. The Russians also sent some of their advisors back to Afghanistan periodically to monitor the condition of the military and the assets that they had retained. The advisers found abandoned bases stripped of every element that could be sold for profit; cables and wiring, generators and heaters, air-conditioners and refrigeration, bedding and furniture, transport and machinery. They reported finding deserted FOBs where the troops had taken flight, choosing to run rather than defend their positions. Senior officers rich in wealth and status having profited from the sale of the equipment and now set up as minor warlords in their own right. The Russians documented all of this, disappointed but unsurprised.
And in my opinion, this is the likely scenario that will repeat itself. First, the more remote FOBs and outposts will be looted and abandoned then occupied by the very forces they had been built to defend against. Without the support and mentoring of the larger western nations, the Afghan forces will have little confidence or motivation to continue putting their lives on the line and will simply down tools and return home. It’s worth remembering that one of the biggest hurdles the coalition faced was ensuring that the rank and file of the security forces actually received their salaries from the respective ministries. It was commonplace for senior officers to keep the entire wages of their police or soldiers for themselves. So, returning to that scenario, it isn’t exactly hard to imagine droves of these service personnel deserting their posts. Or worse, pledging their allegiance to the opposing forces out of self-preservation. And base by base, town by town and province by province, this domino effect will play out.
It is sad to think that the terrible loss of lives throughout this conflict have been sacrificed only to reach an exit strategy and not, as we’d hoped, a better country for the Afghan people to live in. Painful to imagine gloating Taliban governing the bazaars of Sangin and Nad e Ali, the legacy of the dead service men and women all but forgotten as the country rewinds back to where it was pre-9/11. A bitter pill to swallow for anyone who has had any engagement with our involvement in Afghanistan. In the UK, we are still coming to terms with the legacy of our government’s settlement with the republican movement in Northern Ireland. This was another exit strategy that was painted as a peace agreement, handing terrorists and criminals freedom from prosecution deals to expedite an end to violence. But then harassing and pursuing the service men and women who were carrying out government policy in an attempt to portray them as the criminals in the rewriting of the republican narrative. So, the familiar echoes of a ‘peace agreement’ with foes from a long-standing conflict are very fresh in our minds.
Have the Taliban won? I remember back in the early days when I was briefing a Cabinet Minister on one of our operations in a rural area and he asked me whether, in my opinion, I thought we were ‘winning’. I replied that it was an impossible question to answer as there was nothing to win. The enemy wasn’t a structured national army who we could beat into submission and formal surrender. The nation wasn’t responsible for the attacks on US soil and as such couldn’t be held to account and punished for them. And it wasn’t the bad old days of colonialism where we would occupy and govern the country to advance our economic and political goals. So you can’t really win when there is nothing to win in the first place.
And I believe it is the same for the Taliban. An important point to remember is that there is no single Taliban; they are a collective, loosely bound by tribal and familial loyalties that shift and break on a routine basis. Without the focus of a single cause with which to unite these bands of brigands, the collective will quickly unravel and the groups turn upon one another. So can they win? In the end, it comes down to definitions. If by winning, the Taliban determine that the withdrawal of the coalition from Afghanistan was their endgame then by that measure yes, they have won. But this victory is small and will ultimately be very short-lived as their ranks fracture and divide and their movement descends into violent chaos.
Have we won? No; because as I have already pointed out, as well-intentioned as our motives might have been, there was nothing we could actually win in the first place. And the fact that we have now entered into a formal agreement with the very terrorists who planted IEDs and tortured and killed thousands sticks hard in the back of the throat when we think about the sacrifices made over these last 2 decades. So that doesn’t feel particularly ‘winning’ either.
And what of the Afghan people? Have they won? I wouldn’t presume to speak for them but I would suggest that the thought of their country returning to the status of a failed state presided over by feuding warlords probably doesn’t make them feel like winners of very much.
So, no matter whether it’s labelled a peace deal or an exit strategy, after two decades of conflict, loss and sacrifice, there are no winners, only participants. The Taliban may think they’ve won but in truth all they have won is the extension of decades of fighting and the continued destruction of a country that, after 40-odd years of conflict, could do with a bit of a break.
With the latest ill-thought utterance from Jeremy Hunt, the time has surely come to recognise that at all levels of our government, Veterans’ concerns over historical allegations of criminal acts are nothing more than an irritation to our elected representatives. I’m not an idiot; I recognise that the context of Hunt’s statement could be explained as him meaning that terrorists and Veterans alike should be treated equally in the eyes of the law where criminality is concerned. But the truth of the matter is…we’re not.
The photo above is of my first operational tour in Northern Ireland. A border tour. Bandit country. The South Armagh gun team the bogeyman hiding in the hedges with the big DshK heavy machine-gun. The knowledge, as we patrolled, that one round from the Barret .50 cal sniper rifle the IRA had in the area would extinguish our life instantly.
Like most operational tours of that era, we had our share of contacts with the enemy. Shootings, IEDs, IDF. But we fought back. And each time we fought back, the incident was investigated. Weapons taken away for forensic examination. Those involved interviewed under legal protocols and compliance. Statements taken and questioned. SOCOs on the ground conducting thorough investigations of the scene of the incident. A report of the findings issued by the Police. Those involved either cleared of any wrongdoing or subjected to further investigation until the Police were content they had all the true facts.
And that’s how it worked. You were investigated by the Police in the same way that any other individual would be. Your statement was compared to the forensic evidence provided by the SOCOs and a judgement made accordingly. Not a pleasant experience for a soldier to endure when he or she was simply carrying out their duties in accordance with the roles and responsibilities afforded them by the MoD and UK government policy. But it was fair. It showed that no bias was given to serving members of the crown despite all the assertions to the contrary by the republican pressure groups.
And yet, all these years down the line, we are now seeing aged veterans being hauled into the courts for alleged transgressions that took place, in some cases, over 40 years before. More importantly, for alleged crimes that they had originally been cleared of any wrongdoing for. But why? New evidence? No. Has the law changed somehow in the years gone by? No again. So what has brought this about?
Throughout my military career and particularly when I worked in Northern Ireland, I could see the skill with which the republican movement conducted its information and public relations operations. They’d secured groundswell support and millions in funding from the USA and successfully portrayed themselves as the downtrodden victims of the British state. They were also hugely successful at portraying the Police and the Military as nothing more than weapon-wielding tools of the state that enforced the subjugation of catholics in Northern Ireland. And that narrative continues to this day, where the murderers and killers of the republican terrorist groups occupy a role within their communities as defenders of the streets. Heroes who threw off the yoke of the oppressive British state. Even Gerry Adams has reinvented himself as an avuncular, cuddly, grandfather figure, completely at odds with the calculating IRA commander that he was.
This book by the journalist Ed Moloney is essentially the testament of 2 former terrorists, one republican and one loyalist. The republican is Brendan ‘Darkie’ Hughes, a name well-known to most soldiers who served in Northern Ireland throughout Op Banner. Hughes was instrumental in the formation of the Provisional IRA; PIRA. One of the most active terrorists within the entire organisation, Hughes was also very close to Gerry Adams, sharing a cell together in Long Kesh and working together to shape PIRA into the machine it would eventually become. As time went on however, Hughes became hugely disenchanted with Adams’ continued denial that he had ever been a member of PIRA, to the point where Hughes had nothing but contempt for the man he’d previously described as his brother. None of this might have amounted to anything more than gossip, had Hughes not accepted an offer from Boston College to take part in an initiative that would come to be known as the Boston Tapes. In a nutshell, paramilitaries were encouraged to recount their experiences on record and agree that when they died, the recordings would be made public. Hughes’ recordings struck a giant blow to the republican movement but, specifically, to Gerry Adams himself. Hughes’ testimony names Adams as an IRA volunteer who climbed the ranks to become not only a unit commander but also to brigade and army council level. He further named Adams as being in charge of a clandestine group of PIRA volunteers called ‘the unknowns’. The role of this group was to carry out sensitive tasks and internal security that PIRA could not be seen to be involved in.
The photograph on this book cover is that of Dolours Price, a convicted PIRA bomber but, more importantly, a key member of ‘the unknowns’. Price, like Hughes, felt betrayed by Adams and the route that he took the republican movement, and questioned strongly why so many had died or been imprisoned for such little gain. But another important question that Price asked was why, as members of PIRA, they had killed so many people to achieve so little. The book above centres on the disappearance of Jean McConville, a catholic mother of 14 from Belfast in the early seventies. Price is unequivocal: Adams, in his role as commander of the unknowns, ordered and directed the PIRA operation to abduct Jean from her home, take her over the border and kill her as a suspected informer. Price took part in the murder of this poor woman, leaving 14 children to fend for themselves as their father was also deceased. Her rage at Adams’ hypocrisy on this matter is a matter of public record and she is very clear about who was and wasn’t involved. When she heard that Adams had actually sat down with McConville’s now adult family and told them that PIRA had a hand in the disappearance of their mother but that he personally had known nothing about it, Price was furious. She was happy to go on record and name Adams as the head of a secret team that ‘disappeared’ people. It’s worth remembering that the process of ‘disappearing’ people was associated with vile, oppressive regimes who conducted these activities against an innocent population. For PIRA to be seen or linked to such activities within their own communities would deal their image credibility a huge blow.
Adams was interviewed over these assertions but because of the elapsed timeframe, his status as a politician and the lack of physical evidence, no charges were brought against him and he walked free. Free to continue updating his Twitter feed with comments about teddy-bears and recipes that sustained him while a struggling Sinn Fein candidate.
So what’s the difference between the standard of evidence that Adams walked away from and that which is being levelled at Veterans today? Both are very historical, there is no physical evidence and the testimonies amount to hearsay more than anything else. So why can Gerry Adams sleep easy at nights knowing he has nothing to fear but a former paratrooper who was only doing his job has been thrown to the wolves? I think the answer lies in the point I made at the beginning of this post. The success of the republican narrative in portraying themselves as the victims of an institutionalised campaign of violent oppression, and the Police and Military as the perpetrators of these acts.
Jeremy Hunt may not have meant to equate Veterans with terrorists but the fact remains that he did. The first thing a politician learns is the impact of statements and speeches. The fact that he didn’t even bother to assess the potential impact of his statement highlights what little importance he ascribes to the matter.
To continue to subject Veterans to these witch-hunts and trials is nothing short of a betrayal of the oaths and commitments that they honoured during their service. If Jeremy Hunt truly wants to equate Veterans with terrorists then why not go the whole hog and issue Veterans with the comfort letters and guarantees of freedom from prosecution that was afforded to the true criminals?
They were notorious at the time; the three schoolgirls from Bethnal Green who ran away to join Islamic State, or ISIS, in Syria. The national media leapt upon the story of three 15 year-olds turning their back on their own country to join with the most vile terrorist organisation with a fundamental hatred of all things western.
In the last couple of days, one of the schoolgirls, Shamima Begum, now a woman of 19, was discovered by Times’ journalist Anthony Loyd in a refugee camp in Syria. In an interview with Loyd, Begum talks about her journey to Syria and her experiences as a Mojaheran, a wife of a jihadi. What is interesting when reading the transcript of the interview, is Begum’s utter lack of remorse or sense of wrongdoing. She actually openly states that she has no regrets about joining and becoming part of the failed caliphate.
Indeed, her only motivation in speaking to Loyd was to request assistance in securing safe passage back to the UK for herself and her unborn child.
This request, as one would expect, has polarised viewpoints in the UK. On one hand, it is treated as laughable that someone who has effectively committed high treason should just waltz back home as though she has been on an extended gap year. On the other hand, some sectors, predominately leftist-leaning or within the brackets of the legal profession, point out Begum’s youthful age when she left to join ISIS.
For me, it is simple; she is a 19 year-old woman who has spent the last 4 years of her life supporting and assisting the biggest physical threat to western democracy and values. 4 Years. That’s 4 years during which she could have tried to escape, defected to coalition forces, got messages to her family that she wanted out. But in 4 years, Begum did nothing of the sort.
And I don’t buy into the reduced culpability argument due to her age when she and her companions departed for Syria. Let’s not forget that even before she left the UK, the terrorist attacks on London streets and further afield were front page and lead item news.
One of the most shocking terror-franchise attacks witnessed in the UK, the barbarous murder of drummer Lee Rigby, took place a mere 10 miles from Bethnal Green. This was a horrific incident that dominated the news feeds for weeks. And this was something that Begum and her friends would have been exposed to at home, at school, on mainstream media and on social media. And at some point stopped just talking about it, and went on to support such acts.
And it is that key word support that I believe those who should know better, are missing the point of. ISIS is not just a bunch of bearded men with AK 47s and RPGs. It wouldn’t have survived as long as it has if this was the case. It was/is an organisation. And an organisation can only function with support. And let’s make no bones about it, Begum and the rest of the Mohajeran are support.
They marry ISIS fighters, providing these terrorists with comfort, respite from fighting, stability, family. In essence, Begum et al are contributing to normalising the ISIS fighters’ experience, making it easier for them to continue plying their vile trade in torture and murder. And, despite not commenting on any further activities, Begum would have been carrying out active support roles on behalf of her husband, his unit and the leadership of whichever area they were living.
Often, foreign brides are encouraged to recruit other women from their home countries to travel to Syria and join the fight by marrying and supporting an ISIS fighter. They were also used to create content for, and disseminate, propaganda. Identify means of fund-raising. Tasked to identify suspected spies and informers, or join the Al Khansaa unit; a brutal, all-female, religious police identifying and punishing those women they deemed as not quite islamic enough….
So my point really is this; ISIS could not function without support. An analogy to highlight this would be walking into a large, UK Forward Operating Base in Afghanistan and there only being infantry soldiers with guns. No intelligence support, no galley or cookhouse for food, no Engineers to assist in construction of accommodation or ablutions, no IT or welfare communications to speak to loved ones at home, no REME or the like to repair vehicles or essential equipment, no Signallers to maintain vital operational comms…the list is endless really. But, suffice to say, our infantry soldiers would have a very finite effectiveness and life-span without the supporting elements that are as essential to their existence as their organic, front-line soldiering skills.
And, in this regard at least, ISIS is no different. Remove all the support elements, and life for their fighters would be unsustainable for any protracted period of time. The support that Begum and the other Mojaheran provided has directly aided ISIS in remaining a threat to life, values, and democracy for far longer than it should have.
And in that regard, my viewpoint is simple: Begum championed ISIS. Celebrated ISIS atrocities and attacks. Supported ISIS through sharing of propaganda on social media. Attached herself to the ISIS cause against her own country. Helped ISIS by supporting its fighters and looking after them. And is only running now because the caliphate has failed. The black flags lying, tattered and torn in the smoking ruins of the towns and villages of their former territories in Syria.
She had 4 years where she made no effort to escape or leave the caliphate. 4 years where she aided and abetted those guilty of torture, murder, rape, and genocide. 4 years where she actively assisted in the effectiveness of ISIS as it carried out its horrific activities.
Shamima Begum didn’t just support ISIS.
She is ISIS.
In 2018 a Notice to Tender was quietly promulgated by the UK Government. Essentially, private companies were invited to tender for contracts which included, but were not limited to;
Armed Forces Pay, Pensions and Military HR and Administration Services
Administration of the War Pensions Scheme and Armed Forces Compensation Scheme
MoD Medal Office
Maintenance and development of existing Information System (IS) and enquiry services in support of the above services
Provision of Veterans Enabling and Supporting Services
It is the last point that I want to address here as this is the issue that is going to affect those who have given their service to the country and are now classed as Veterans. It’s a proven fact that, for many individuals leaving the Armed Forces, the transition to civvy street is a difficult one. There are too many reasons and individual circumstances to generalise on this forum but, suffice to say, a great deal of Veterans struggle to cope.
A lot of the onus in dealing with these cases falls to Veterans charities and support groups, organisations that rely upon donations and volunteers to keep afloat. These groups carry out fantastic work, made possible by the unselfish efforts of their staff and helpers. But again, this is in a voluntary rather than an official capacity. And there just aren’t enough of them to cope.
The void that is left in the wake of this shortfall is being filled, by necessity, through self-help groups on social media. The Facebook group, Leave No Man Behind (LNMB) is probably the best example of this. Frustrated by the sheer number of Veterans struggling to access care, advice, legal assistance and even just coping in day to day life, the Group came together very quickly to the point where its membership stands at well over 40k individuals.
And that happened organically; no fancy marketing or advertising, no monetising of the Group membership. In short, it does what it says on the tin; Veterans helping each other with advice, connections, or sometimes just a sympathetic ear from someone who knows what they’re going through.
That’s why, when I hear of the plan to outsource the Veterans’ enabling and support services, a shudder runs through me. I can think of no successful outsourcing that the MoD has conducted that has been anything less than a fiasco.
Consider the appalling reports regarding the quality of service that Sodexo is providing to current serving members of the Armed Forces. Or the previous IT farce that cost millions and provided nothing but revenue for the company involved. Or Carillion’s dismal record on service personnel’s housing quarters. Or this one;
Capita’s failure year on year to reach ANY recruitment targets has seen one of the most embarrassing campaigns to date.
I could go on…
My point is, I have yet to see the case made where outsourcing services has achieved anything other than the profit margins of the companies who win the tender. These companies are interested in nothing more than stripping their delivery to the bone in order to maximise profits and please their shareholders and Directors. And while I’m no legal expert, it still staggers me that these companies seem free from the threat of the type of penalties that apply in the private sector for breach of contract…
So here’s an idea: There are tens of thousands of Veterans out there with similar experiences and the ability to engage and connect with other Veterans who are struggling or experiencing tough times. Use them. Employ them to build a service that is fit for purpose. Rather than outsourcing Veterans’ Services to yet another vulture waiting in the wings, formalise and fund a service that will take the weight off the charities and self-help groups.
And employ the very people that this service will be used by; the Veterans themselves. By default it will become a cooperative service, the ethos being that of providing help rather than turning an obscene profit. Veterans who are struggling through a dark period will engage and connect with other Veterans because they know that individual has at least an idea of either what they’re going through or the circumstances that have caused it. And Veterans care about other Veterans; LNMB’s Facebook page is testament to that fact.
So let’s not be the next group to suffer at the hands of another poorly-executed outsourcing exercise. And let’s not continue to allow charities and volunteers to do the heavy lifting that a consolidated service should be doing.
We’re Veterans. Never victims.
With the news hot off the press that the first woman has passed the Potential Royal Marines’ Course, the four-day initial selection process for potential recruits, the reality of women serving in front-line combat units is now fast becoming a reality rather than an aspiration.
The introductory image shows that of Surgeon Lt Lara Herbert on her 30 miler, the last of the Commando tests that she passed as part of the All Arms Commando Course, the AACC. Lara received far less attention for her achievements than that of Captain Pip Tattersall, the darling ‘G I Jane’ of the press and media. Which is a shame, because in contrast to Tattersall’s dubious success after several attempts, Herbert powered through the tests and succeeded on her first attempt.
But, this was the AACC, formerly 8 weeks but now extended to 13 and open to service personnel from all three branches who wish to earn the Commando qualification that will allow them to serve with the Royal Marines on operations. The young woman who recently passed the PRMC will now go on to attempt Royal Marines’ training; 32 weeks in duration.
From the off, soundbites and confident statements from MoD spokespersons declared that there would be no difference in treatment or standards for female recruits. Cynics are already pointing out that the MoD have reneged on this statement by removing the minimum height and weight criteria for women, while retaining it for men. They also point out that, where on week one day one the men form an orderly queue at the barbers to have their hair shorn, the females will not have to undergo this loss of personal identity. They will not shower with the men but will live in the same accommodation to avoid having the female recruits being isolated from the remainder of the troop.
While a lot of old and bold may disagree, I don’t believe that Royal Marines’ Recruit Training has physically changed all that much from when I went through it in the late 1980s. I entered the Commando Training Centre Royal Marines, CTCRM, at Lympstone, Devon as a pretty scrawny specimen. And I found training hard. Very hard. Commando training, by design and necessity must be hard in order to provide the foundation that these Marines will need to prepare them for front-line operations. For me however, much of my suffering was the result of the attrition on my skinny little frame from 32 weeks of physical exertion, lack of sleep, poor diet, heavy weight carrying, and constant activity. By the time the Commando tests had come around, my webbing burns had progressed to open sores, weeping pus as the wounds became infected, my run-down immune system failing in its role. But I did what every other recruit did; padded and taped the wounds up, put the webbing back on and cracked on, passing out of training and recovering at my first Unit where better diet and more rest got me back to normal.
So, when I think about women joining the Royal Marines as opposed to the AACC, I don’t automatically think of them being unable to pass physical tests or carry a bergan on exercise, I think about the degrading of the body throughout that 32 week process and the impact on health and fitness. Typically, a male has a larger frame and more muscle bulk than a female with which to offset such long-term attrition, mitigating the negative impact on the body somewhat better than their female counterparts.
I also think about cohesion. The Royal Marines training that I underwent was free from bullying or unnecessary screaming and hysterics. This was because my Training Team told us what was expected of us and that it was our job to meet that standard, that when it wasn’t met we would be punished harshly for it. To that end my troop, (and I’m assuming all other troops at CTCRM) conducted a lot of self-policing; getting a grip of the serial offenders responsible for the group punishments inflicted upon us. Mostly, this was a case of investing a bit of assistance to an individual who wasn’t quite at the required level and helping them get there. On other occasions however, harsh words and strong verbal confrontations were necessary. It is one thing to deal with being on the end of one of these confrontations as a male member of the troop, quite another when you are the only female and probably already feeling some exclusion or isolation. It also throws up the issue of sensitivities, i.e., what man is going to feel comfortable giving a woman the same level of confrontation as he would another male member of the troop?
A good example of this hit our screens on the channel 4 series SAS: Who Dares Wins where, for the first time, female candidates were allowed to attempt the 2 week event. One of the women, when given the opportunity to select a partner for the milling, chose a man as her opponent. The man was warned by the instructors that he was not to go easy on the woman but to fight her as an equal. And he did. The woman took a fair old pounding from her opponent but stood her ground. Most people probably thought this was a good effort and, for the woman, it was. Her opponent however, was devastated at having punched hell out of a female and struggled to come to terms with his actions. So, arguably nothing to do with the woman, but down to males being unable to set aside generational gender behaviours.
Predictably, opinion is divided on the practicalities and effectiveness of gender inclusion in combat-focussed units with some claiming 21st century values catching up with 19th century policy, while others take the stance of social experimentation at the cost of military effectiveness. I wrote more on this subject in a previous article, Women on the Front Line, where I covered examples of females in combat: https://www.jamesemack.com/women-on-the-front-line/
So, to my knowledge at least, we now have the first female to attempt the full Royal Marines’ Commando training course. Being the first of your kind at anything ensures massive media interest and I have no doubt that this woman will be no exception to the rule. Hopefully, like all other recruits, she’ll be far too busy to acknowledge or even care about this. So, I for one, hope she does well, grits her teeth and gets through her 32 weeks of pain and exhaustion to earn her Commando Green Beret: Providing that the standards, criteria, and treatment remain identical to that of her male colleagues.
And that, at the end of the day, women in the Royal Marines is proven to be an enhancement to the capability rather than a mere experiment in gender inclusion that benefits none.
Writing books is tough. No two ways about it. You do it alone, day in-day out because you’ve got to produce the work that readers are going to expect. You constantly second-guess your story and your characters; Are they good enough? Is this really going to work as a novel?
I can’t speak for other writers, but I know that I get very focussed once I’m into the writing process. I’ll be hammering away at the keyboard all day and don’t like distractions that pull me out of my zone, so to speak. It was only two days ago that I learned the lesson that, while this is productive, there is a balance to be struck.
I have my partner to thank for highlighting this to me. I’d had a good day writing my latest work in progress and we were talking about our plans for the next day. I mentioned that I would, as usual, be behind the computer, smashing through the word count. As an aside, I happened to mention that one of my literary heroes, Gerald Seymour, was giving a presentation at the Edinburgh International Book Festival. My partner asked me why I wasn’t going to see him and I came up with the usual ‘…prioritising my writing…’ justification.
She then stated that I should really go to the event, that I would enjoy it and probably learn some valuable points from such an esteemed author. I countered with several reasons revolving around the expense of travelling down to sit in a room with a huge crowd and not really have any engagement. Her next statement surprised me and gave me pause for thought: ‘You should really go. You never really do anything outside of the writing.’
Now, she wasn’t complaining about our social lives as we make sure that we enjoy our free time together. What she was getting at was that when it comes to writing, all I do is write. Here was the chance to meet ‘the best thriller writer in the world’ according to the Sunday Telegraph, and I was dismissing it to spend another eight or so hours typing in the porch? She told me that I should definitely go and guaranteed me that I would enjoy it.
Her words struck a chord and I recognised the truth in what she was saying. The writing can’t just be about the writing. Influence, inspiration, validation, motivation. None of these traits can be completely nurtured by the self; they require external providers from time to time to refresh them.
So, I found myself taking the train to Edinburgh, (editing a first draft MS throughout the journey. Old habits and all that…) moderately enthused about the forthcoming event. Entering the event location I was stunned to see so many people in attendance. The thriller genre is clearly alive and well among the readers visiting the EIBF. Gerald then took to the stage with the compere and made their introductions.
For the remainder of the presentation I was absolutely rapt. Gerald was witty, smart, self-deprecating and a great speaker. He spoke of his writing process, his approach to research, how he remains current despite being in his fortieth year of writing books based around espionage and suspense. His anecdotes were fascinating and he related how he fed them into his novels.
I left that presentation with a renewed sense of motivation and determination to be good at what I do. I picked up some real gems of information to aid and assist my writing from one of the world’s best. In short, I had one of the most productive experiences of my writing career, despite not spending eight hours on the lap-top. And all because my partner gave me the kick up the arse that I needed to recognise the real value in something.
I read my first Gerald Seymour book, Harry’s Game, in 1984 and bought his latest, A Damned Serious Business, yesterday, 15 August 2018. Having started reading it last night, I am already as invested in ADSB as the sallow, 16-year old me had been in the pages of Harry’s Game.
This was a good lesson for me. That, yes, a writer needs to write otherwise there is nothing for people to read. But also that we need to step away from the keyboard now and again and expose ourselves to positive influences and experiences to help motivate us and maintain our passion for what we do.
In short, sometimes it’s necessary to close the lid of the lap-top to inspire us to be better writers.