Nato
troops tell of Taliban firefight inside Camp Bastion
Coalition
forces admit they were caught by surprise when 15 insurgents attacked
base and killed two US marines
12
October, 2012
A
set of wire cutters and a moonless night were all the Taliban needed
to break into one of the most intimidating military bases in
Afghanistan, the vast desert headquarters of UK troops and the US
Marine corps.
The
attack last month caught the foreign coalition in Afghanistan by
surprise, and underlined the Taliban's tenacity even in a part of the
country that was a focus of fighting by US surge forces, and where
the Taliban's hold has been severely weakened.
Fifteen
insurgents killed two US marines and destroyed six Harrier jets in
the attack; another two were so badly damaged they could only be used
"for spares". A fuel depot went up in flames and soldiers
assigned to non-combat jobs grabbed weapons to fight the Taliban at
close quarters.
"I
came over to Afghanistan just expecting to refuel planes," said
Sergeant Jammie Hawkins from Tennessee, who instead found himself
trading bullets with three Taliban fighters outside his offices.
"A
bus passed by, coming down the road on its daily routine, and they
opened fire on it, and that's when we knew they weren't marines."
Undaunted by the sudden explosion of the war into the usually calm
heart of Bastion, he picked up his weapon and helped kill two
attackers and injure the third.
Camp
Bastion, roughly the size of Reading, had always seemed uncomfortable
but safe. British forces set up camp in the middle of a desert so
inhospitable and isolated that it seemed immune to attack. Perhaps
because of this, the vast blast walls that stretch round the 37km
perimeter give way in some remoter areas to a wire fence, a weakness
exploited in the attack.
"There
were no suicide bombers, there were no tunnels," said Major
General Mark Gurganus, when asked what the insurgents used to
penetrate the base. "It's a tool about this big, and it cuts
wire." He gestured with his hands to show the type of implement
found in standard toolboxes. "We did not have the fence
alarmed."
The
general, who commands US and Nato forces in south-western
Afghanistan, told journalists visiting Bastion that insurgents had
taken advantage of rolling desert to approach the base unseen. "If
you use terrain very carefully, and they did – they came up in an
area that was pretty much obscured from a lot of the towers, they
were able to move up. They did this on a night when there was
absolutely zero illumination."
But
the suicide squad did not have to sneak through miles of desert; an
arid moonscape once host to a handful of nomadic herders has become a
precarious home to thousands of people fleeing violence, unemployment
or government drugs eradication programmes elsewhere in Helmand.
Just
a few kilometres from the Bastion fence there is now a transient
population of desperately poor villages. Mud paths are scattered with
the dried husks of opium poppies, and the occasional cluster of
bullet casings from AK-47s used by insurgents. The Afghan police and
army pass through occasionally, and there is no other authority forup
to 20,000 people living there, most of them poppy farmers.
"There
is no real government up here, so the land just belongs to the first
person who comes," said Lieutenant Mark Mensik, whose platoon is
charged with patrolling south of Camp Bastion.
"The
Taliban come up pretty freely. When we are out there they try to stay
around, harass us and then go back south. They will definitely
infiltrate when we are not out there," he added; his troops
expect to hit a homemade bomb around once a week.
Recently,
elder Attah Nazar, aged about 60 and who has 24 children, told a
patrol of US troops less than 10km from Camp Bastion that the area
was secure.
"I've
lived here three years and never seen the Taliban in all that time,"
insisted his son-in-law Abdul Mohammad. Asked about a pile of nearby
bullet casings – from ammunition not used by coalition forces –
he shrugged. "They must be from the Americans, there is no one
else around."
The
imam from the village mosque, born in the same district as the
Taliban's commander Mullah Omar, stood beside the remains of last
year's opium crop and insisted the villagers only grow wheat.
Most
visits are equally frustrating, said Mensik, because although farmers
resent Taliban efforts to tax them, they do not want to be targeted
for helping, or appearing to help, foreign forces. "All they are
here to do is plant poppy, make money and get out of here."

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