Yet as the war went on, darkness filled his soul, and Ahmed began to evolve. Each day the Soviets menaced his province, Ahmed’s heart hardened. Gone were the days of prayer, the days of study, of youth, of hope. War was upon him, and he fully immersed himself. The future held only promises of bloodshed and battle.
In a strange way, Ahmed was happy for this. War has a way of corrupting even the most valiant men with the best intentions, and Ahmed had been no saint. He began to fuel off his hate, to feel joy off killing, the rage that filled his soul gave him quite an advantage.
Ahmed had done many things. Some were great for his people, some horrific. As the occupation increased in eighty-one, so did the number of Mujahideen. What once were small, unorganized factions, were now a force to be reckoned with. What began as a thousand fighting men soon became ten thousand well-trained soldiers.
Khost was important — never once had it succumbed to outside rule.
Ahmed intended to keep it that way. He now had a fighting force, and many armaments. Most importantly, they could use them. Ahmed could summon three thousand warriors to fill this very valley within twenty-four hours if need be. He could have five-hundred at his disposal within an hour.
He had devised a strategic plan, one to expel the Soviets. The first phase was to establish a resistance movement, capture the hearts and minds of the people. Ahmed was sincere in his belief that this war could be won, and it showed. As he summoned warriors, they came in droves, their numbers growing daily.
The second phase of his plan was to form an active defense of the Khost province, and more specifically, this valley. It would be a withdraw point if the fighting got heavy. It would be their stronghold, their final defensive position. If matters worsened for the Mujahideen, thousands could defend the heart of Ahmed’s operations. From this region, from this valley, they could regroup. They could plot their next attack. The Soviets were already struggling in nearby regions, and very soon Ahmed would have the advantage.
He was close.
The third phase would be a strategic offensive. Ahmed’s forces were taking back control over parts of eastern and northern Afghanistan. His tactics, his willingness to train men, proved to be working.
Like many others, Ahmed’s goal was simple: to gain back his people’s country. It seemed to be working. The Mujahideen were a thorn in the side of the Soviets. Ahmed and his men ambushed Soviet convoys, attacking supply lines. They were bold, creative, slowing the Soviet occupation. They’d attack, then retreat, only to plan another attack. The Mujahideen were unconventional, always throwing the Soviets off guard.
They used a certain tactic called Asymmetrical Warfare, and the Soviets were growing desperate.
8
The Soviets responded. They mounted a series of offensives against the Mujahideen, and Ahmed, focusing their efforts in the province of Khost.
It was bloody.
It was brutal.
It was suicidal.
This action, this push, proved to work against the Soviets. It increased Afghani morale instead of diminishing it. Ahmed’s teachings were working, and things were looking good for the fighters. One thing the Soviets didn’t factor in was that the best soldier is one who has little to live for. The best solider is one who has a cause, and no fear of death.
Despite this opportunity, this good news, Ahmed grew disgruntled. Sure, the Soviets were unable to beat his forces, no matter the constant wave of major combat units, but he didn’t know how long that would last. For every Mujahideen who died, Ahmed could recruit five, but the Soviets were increasing their pressure, endless in their pursuit to take over his country. They had the weapons, the technology; the Soviets didn’t want the embarrassment, and were dedicated in their own right.
Ahmed wasn’t sure if his men were up to the challenge, for the average Mujahideen fighter was an illiterate farmer or herder. Few knew how to read or write. Few knew much about combat.
At first.
Under Ahmed’s tutelage, these farmers and goat herders grew to become excellent fighters. Up against a world super-power, this rabble group of men put up a good fight. At first, they suffered great causalities, as did all who opposed the Soviets. The enemy was brutal in its ways, and had no right to be in their country. The men fought, doing so heroically.
The problem was, the Mujahideen disliked the field craft of warfare. They were stubborn, even reluctant to crawl while being fired upon. They rarely practiced tactics, opting to pick fights when the time felt right, often for no reason other than they were in the mood. And despite popular belief, these Mujahideen warriors were usually unwilling to conduct sabotage missions. Such a thing wasn’t seen as glorious, as honorable.
But, Ahmed trained them hard, using his knowledge of basic military training. He modeled much of his tactics on things he had learned from the West. The Americans were supporting this war, both with money and training, and Ahmed was quick to learn. He hated the Americans, too, but not nearly as much as the Soviets. Both the Americans and the Soviets were infidels, but he would use the American’s money to help kill Soviets. Later, his fight would be against the Americans, but he would remain patient. He remembered reading Sun Tzu, and a certain tactic stuck with him — he would remain ‘friends’ with one enemy to kill another enemy. Later, that would change.
So, Ahmed took advantage of American funding, their training, their weapons, and soon his men grew to become excellent soldiers. They learned to shoot, how to take cover, how to flank, how to lay suppressive fire. The Mujahideen already took great pride in centuries of tribal warfare, and adapted quickly. He felt they couldn’t be defeated, he knew they couldn’t be defeated. His people had fought to defend their lands for centuries, Afghanistan having never seen defeat.
Still, something bothered Ahmed, something weighed heavy on his shoulders, on his soul — a burden he held as this war raged on. It consumed him, fueling his primal needs for revenge, not justice.
Bitter sweet revenge.
Ahmed hated the Soviets.
He vowed to kill every last invader.
9
Over the course of the war, Ahmed’s attitude changed. As Ahmed once prayed for peace, he now prayed for blood. His once youthful dreams of hope altered into something new, morphing into something darker, the recesses of his mind, his soul, now black.
Ahmed’s resentment, his hatred, caused him to be bitter. As he formed his militia, as he became respected and powerful, Ahmed also became violent.
At first, he targeted his violence toward the Soviets. They were clearly the enemy, and he fought back harshly. But over time, as the darkness overwhelmed him, he turned darker, vicious — even to his own people. He grew disgusted, disenfranchised toward the people as he witnessed their fear, their apprehension to fight the Soviets. Despite his training, his leadership, he realized not every man or woman wanted this fight.
Some, he even considered traitors.
And it was true, for a faction of his own people, going back generations, indeed helped the Soviets.
Ahmed hated the thought. He began to turn on his own people, enacting revenge on those who helped the Soviets, sometimes on suspicion, sometimes for the sheer desire for violence.
When the need arose for human shields, for diversions, he used his fellow Afghanis. This war had become personal to the extent that Ahmed’s own loyalties were to himself and to himself only.
“Ahmed,” a voice whispered, stirring him from his thoughts.
He glared. “What is it, Fajii? I commanded you to leave me alone.” He ran his hand through his wavy dark hair, then down his face, tracing the long scar and tangled beard.