With elections in Afghanistan just one month away, the United States has ramped up its commitment to securing the country in the hope that a stronger military presence will reduce Taliban threats and increase voter turnout in villages subject to intimidation from insurgents. About 57,000 of the promised 68,000 US troops have arrived in Afghanistan as part of President Obama's civilian-oriented campaign that seeks to provide better training for Afghan security forces and more effective support for economic and political development. At the heart of the new strategy are the 4,000 US Marines participating in Operation Khanjar. The mission made headlines after a series of air and ground assaults July 2 helped drive the Taliban out of three districts in southern Helmand province, a Taliban stronghold known to produce around half of the world's opium. But tactical operations that combine combat with efforts to win hearts and minds take a toll on those involved. Asking US Marines to capture or kill insurgents is one thing. Asking them to build roads, mix with tribal leaders and train the Afghan army is another. Expecting these same troops to do both--shake hands with some Afghans and point guns at others, reconcile with militants but also not empower the enemy--is like asking them to be hunters and humanists, soldiers and sociologists. Before the latest batch of troops deployed for Helmand I visited the North Carolina base where they were training. I met many of the men from battalion 2/8, which makes up a portion of Operation Khanjar. They all had stories to tell about previous deployments, thoughts on their upcoming mission and wishes to get the job done so they could return to their families. But the Marine whose story left the deepest impression was Sergeant Joe Buompastore's.
Buompastore is part of 1/6, a battalion that returned from southern Helmand last October. When I entered Alpha Company headquarters, the 24-year-old Marine removed his hat and reached out a thick, freckled hand. Buompastore seemed chipper and polite, asking me to call him Joe, but respectfully referring to me as ma'am, despite our minor age difference.
A handful of men from 1/6 bustled around metal desks filling out obligatory paperwork or staring at computer screens backed by images of smiling babies or leggy brunettes. Buompastore suggested we go outside to a grass yard where men gathered to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes. (One-third of active-duty military personnel smoke, according to a US-government commission report by the Institute of Medicine (http://www.iom.edu/CMS/3793/53812.aspx), which found that this addiction can harm "operational readiness.")
Distant riffle fire punctuated a conversation in which Buompastore shared his knack for cooking spicy sausage and his love of Thai food - mango chicken "is the money."
We talked for nearly half an hour before he mentioned Afghanistan. "We used to tramp through poppy fields until our boots would turn black from the tar," he said.
During Buompastore's first two months in Helmand his 11-man squad moved for days in temperatures that shot up to 125 degrees. They carried all their gear - around 150 pounds of ammo, protective wear, and weapons - taking breaks to change socks and ease their backs from their burdens.
In May 2008, during a routine patrol, insurgents ambushed Buompastore's squad, forcing him to call for assistance. The ensuing firefight left a member of the other squad dead and led to the discovery of a cache of rocket-propelled grenades. The battle was intense, but Buompastore's telling of it sounds mechanical, as though he talking about last night's dinner.
"One of the Taliban stuck an AK47 out of the wall, took a couple pop shots and hit one of the guys - a sniper from weapon's company." Buompastore's description of the battle is heavy with military-speak - words like FOB (forward operating base), suppression, heilo - and light on emotional detail. He glosses over what happened to the injured Marine, out of respect for his family, and it is only when I ask that Buompastore mutters a response. "Nah, he didn't make it. He was gone there, right on the spot."
The death left a dent in the young sergeant's morale, as did the extension of his Afghan deployment. Low morale, repeat deployments and the complex and confusing nature of the war in Afghanistan are the main causes of recent increases in mental-health problems among active-duty military and veterans, according to a study by researchers at the San Francisco Department of Veterans Affairs Medical Center. Of the nearly 300,000 Iraq and Afghanistan veterans surveyed, 37 percent were diagnosed with mental health disorders, 22 percent of which were due to posttraumatic stress (PTSD). The study also found that mental health problems increased the longer veterans were out of the service.
Buompastore has now been back from Afghanistan for nine months, the same amount of time he served there, but he continues his struggle to find some sense of normalcy among continuing deployments and troops who were overextended.
Most of the Marines I spoke with at the base said they understood the need to reach out to the Afghan population. Top commanders parroted President Obama's new strategy.
But the civilian-oriented approach has its flaws. Teaching men the culture and language of the country where they'll be fighting is vital. Expecting rapid and dramatic change from such efforts adds to the weight bearing down on US troops.
Already military personnel must decide within a moment whether to capture or kill the people who confront them. They continuously struggle to adjust to conditions in a country where the lack of infrastructure and large number of rudimentary settlements makes the setting seem an ancient backwater. And then they return wondering why they didn't get it, how they could have assessed the situation differently or filled with doubt for pointing their guns at the wrong people.
Afghanistan is not Iraq, but neither is it the "good war" analysts long considered it. With US troops going deeper into Taliban territory, the confusion will grow stronger and the line between soldier and sociologist even thinner.