week 3 - at the end
At the end of a Soviet production line, 40 years ago, rolled an Mi-24 HIND. It took the fatherland's battles to the air. It saw conflicts in Ethiopia, Vietnam, and Libya. And when it was time to steady the communist influence in Afghanistan, it flew with its brothers and sisters, some who were lost to the U.S. supplied Stinger missiles supplied to the freedom fighters below. The fighters called the flying war machines Satan's Chariots, and over 10 years massive casualties ensued for both the birds and the mountain men.
In the decades to follow, the machines that remained under control of the weak Afghan government were scrapped and rebuilt by various factions. When the Taliban lost control of the country 10 years ago, only a few could fly. With support form a new wave of superpowers, the fleet has been rebuilt, polished, and made ready for the new cadre of western trained, English-speaking pilots. And at the end of this 40-year old machine is still a significantly useful projection of force.
At the end of a dusty road are the remnants of craters left by bombs 10 years ago. Taking out runways is a good way of taking quick control of the air, and that is something the USAF does pretty well. Kabul's airport didn't get rebuilt until a few years ago. And on the 9th anniversary of the WTC attacks, soldiers and firefighters ran the perimeter of the airfield, over new concrete, past the refurbished line of Satan's Chariots, carrying a 100 lb fragment of the twin towers to honor the thing that brought us out here to begin with.
At the end of another dusty path--this one not a road but a grazing trail through the Hindu Kush mountains-- rests a tribe of Kuchi nomads... taken to the higher central lands to avoid conflict, land mines, politics. Living up there, in modest tents... waiting for winter. They are some of the true keepers of the secrets of this land. The locations of fighters. The whims of village elders. The money trails...
And at the end of the day, after visiting the new Afghan Air Force, touching their helicopters, and running with firefighters, I looked up at the mountains... and waved at the Kuchi.
And at the end of the horizon, among those tents, was probably a scout... a mountain man... a freedom fighter... watching it all.
In the decades to follow, the machines that remained under control of the weak Afghan government were scrapped and rebuilt by various factions. When the Taliban lost control of the country 10 years ago, only a few could fly. With support form a new wave of superpowers, the fleet has been rebuilt, polished, and made ready for the new cadre of western trained, English-speaking pilots. And at the end of this 40-year old machine is still a significantly useful projection of force.
At the end of another dusty path--this one not a road but a grazing trail through the Hindu Kush mountains-- rests a tribe of Kuchi nomads... taken to the higher central lands to avoid conflict, land mines, politics. Living up there, in modest tents... waiting for winter. They are some of the true keepers of the secrets of this land. The locations of fighters. The whims of village elders. The money trails...
And at the end of the day, after visiting the new Afghan Air Force, touching their helicopters, and running with firefighters, I looked up at the mountains... and waved at the Kuchi.
And at the end of the horizon, among those tents, was probably a scout... a mountain man... a freedom fighter... watching it all.
Great pics, thanks for the post, man!
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