Afghanistan: How the Kunduz Air Strike Shapes the Debate
David Wood
Chief Military Correspondent
Posted:
09/24/09
The bombs fell about three hours before dawn. Two seven-foot-long steel torpedo shapes sliced silently through the darkness, each packed with 192 pounds of Tritonal high explosive, released and guided by American F-15E strike fighters high over Kunduz province, Afghanistan.Hours later the news broke, briefly interrupting reports of the latest bickering over health care reform, Michael Jackson's memorial service and unrest in China. Two gasoline tanker trucks, hijacked by the Taliban, had exploded in the attack, killing dozens of insurgents and perhaps civilians. The incident in early September ignited a brief flare-up of questions about air strike policy and civilian casualties, before attention turned back to point scoring on health care and speculating when Gen. Stanley McChrystal's Afghan war assessment would be unveiled.
Maybe there's no other way to think about the Afghanistan war except in the most abstract terms. Air strikes or "boots on the ground"? Nation-building, or population-centric security? Counter-insurgency strategy, or counter-terrorism strategy?
But it has struck me, coming back to Washington after six weeks inside the war in Afghanistan, how disconnected the debate over Afghanistan seems from the reality that Afghans live through, day, by day, by day. Here, the Kunduz air strike has become a data point, used to stake down one corner of the argument about whether the war is immoral and unwinnable, or just temporarily going badly.
Perhaps part of our difficulty, as the world's most powerful nation grappling unsuccessfully with a very small, if nasty, collection of terrorists, is that we sometimes ignore the continuing human struggle to accommodate the realities of the war. It may be that the struggle of ordinary people, caught up in violence not of their own making, might help guide our thinking on the war's abstract issues.
Here's an extraordinary piece of reporting on that struggle by Ghaith Abdul-Ahad of the British Guardian newspaper. It's well worth reading the entire piece, but here are excerpts:
At first light last Friday, in the Chardarah district of Kunduz province in northern Afghanistan, the villagers gathered around the twisted wreckage of two fuel tankers that had been hit by a Nato airstrike. They picked their way through a heap of almost a hundred charred bodies and mangled limbs which were mixed with ash, mud and the melted plastic of jerry cans, looking for their brothers, sons and cousins. They called out their names but received no answers. By this time, everyone was dead.
What followed is one of the more macabre scenes of this or any war. The grief-stricken relatives began to argue and fight over the remains of the men and boys who a few hours earlier had greedily sought the tanker's fuel. Poor people in one of the world's poorest countries, they had been trying to hoard as much as they could for the coming winter.
"We didn't recognise any of the dead when we arrived," said Omar Khan, the turbaned village chief of Eissa Khail. "It was like a chemical bomb had gone off, everything was burned. The bodies were like this," he brought his two hands together, his fingers curling like claws. "They were like burned tree logs, like charcoal.
"The villagers were fighting over the corpses. People were saying this is my brother, this is my cousin, and no one could identify anyone."
So the elders stepped in. They collected all the bodies they could and asked the people to tell them how many relatives each family had lost.
A queue formed. One by one the bereaved gave the names of missing brothers, cousins, sons and nephews, and each in turn received their quota of corpses. It didn't matter who was who, everyone was mangled beyond recognition anyway. All that mattered was that they had a body to bury and perform prayers upon.
Taliban drivers had gotten the two hijacked fuel trucks stuck in a stream outside the village of Eissa Kheil; desperate to move before daylight, they demanded that villagers come help.
Jamaludin, a 45-year-old farmer, had been praying in the mosque when he heard the sound of a tractor. "I went home and found that three of my brothers and my nephew had left with my tractor," he said. "I called my brother to ask him where they had gone. He said the Taliban had asked him to bring the tractor and help them pull a tanker." Jamaludin was alarmed. "I asked him what tanker? It wasn't our business, let the Taliban bring their own tractors. I called him back an hour later. He said they couldn't get the trucks out and the Taliban wouldn't let him leave, so I went back to sleep."
The air strike, for which McChrystal apologized, is still under investigation, both by the U.S.-led command in Afghanistan and by German authorities examining the role of the German officer who called in the air strike. It may be that either the German officer or the U.S. pilot, or both, violated strict U.S. military guidelines designed to minimize civilian casualties. Clearly, the Taliban also are responsible for involving civilians in a military operation.
It may also be that none of that matters to the villagers who are living with the aftermath.
Jan Mohammad, an old man with a white beard and green eyes, said angrily: "I ran, I ran to find my son because nobody would give me a lift. I couldn't find him."
He dropped his head on his palm that was resting on the table, and started banging his head against his white mottled hand. When he raised his head his eyes were red and tears were rolling down his cheek. "I couldn't find my son, so I took a piece of flesh with me home and I called it my son. I told my wife we had him, but I didn't let his children or anyone see. We buried the flesh as it if was my son."
