Stabilizing the wild southwest of Afghanistan

A Marine assigned to the 1st Marine Special Operations Battalion from Camp Pendleton works with the local Afghan Local Police in Puzeh.

Marine special operations forces realized the security situation had changed dramatically in their stretch of the upper Sangin river valley this summer when village boys started playing policeman instead of Taliban insurgent.

Matt, leader of the team from Camp Pendleton’s 1st Marine Special Operations Battalion now stationed in Puzeh, compared it to the old days of the American West.

Back then, “it wasn’t cool to be a sheriff. It was cool to be a bank robber until Wyatt Earp came along and started making a name for himself and for lawmen. That’s kind of what we saw here,” said the team leader, who couldn’t be fully identified because of the sensitive nature of his mission. “You see kids running around now trying to play ALP (Afghan Local Police). So it’s catching on.”

Puzeh flanks a dirt road cutting through desert hills in what might be described as the wild southwest of Afghanistan. The district it’s in, Sangin, has been among the bloodiest of the war for U.S. and British forces. Yet Puzeh is the successful poster child, at the moment at least, for a unique, bottom-up approach to stabilizing the hinterlands that U.S. military commanders describe as probably their most important endeavor.

At its heart is recruitment of Afghan Local Police — villagers armed and paid to protect their hometowns — but the overarching “Village Stability Operations” spearheaded by special operations forces throughout Afghanistan have broader ambitions.

After recruiting the sons and brothers of tribal leaders to serve as local police, the special operators also aim to strengthen governance and economic development by linking them to regular police forces and local councils planning for community needs like roads or wells.

Amid the special operations forces’ more well-known missions — such as raids like the one that killed Osama bin Laden and mentoring of national security forces — the elite troops started opening “platforms” for village stability operations throughout Afghanistan about two years ago.

Lt. Col. Michael Brooks, a Camp Pendleton Marine commander in charge of Special Operations Task Force-West, said the first time he visited Puzeh early in its development, special operations forces were getting shot at by rocket-propelled grenades. The task force oversees special operators from all branches of the armed services stationed in six provinces of Afghanistan.

Several factors contributed to Puzeh’s newfound calm and the strength of its local police program, including tribal dynamics and geography, but the most important was developing strong relationships with the people, he said.

“If they’re just dealing with you and following your routine and your agenda, when you leave it’s going to revert back to what it was before you got there. But if you establish a relationship and they understand what’s going on and they see the opportunity in front of them, they truly do mobilize,” Brooks said.

The special operations forces do that by living among the Afghans, growing beards like the locals and sometimes even fasting during the day in respect for the Muslim holy month of Ramadan that started in late July.

But no matter how closely they work with the villagers, the program has little chance of success in areas where there is no connection to the central government, Brooks said. For instance, after special operations forces stepped back from one of their sites established in 2010 in Badghis province, dozens of local police surrendered last month to the Taliban.

The joint special operations command has not shied away, however, from village stability operations in the most violent areas of the country. Although the chances of success may be better when they are invited by a community, commanders said, they also have fought their way into areas appearing to be unrelenting insurgent strongholds.

One of their newest sites is in Nahr-e Saraj district — the most violent in all Afghanistan. In late June, about 800 troops, including British and U.S. infantry, tankers, engineers and both American and Afghan special operations forces, moved into the Qala-e Gaz area of the upper Gereshk valley in Nahr-e Saraj to establish a new base for village stability operations and local police. Several Marines were killed during the operation, which included the 1st Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment out of Twentynine Palms.

The idea is to eliminate irreconcilable insurgents, convince the half-hearted that there’s another way and help the Afghan government arm the rest against Taliban attacks and infiltration.

Maj. Gen. David Berger, the commanding general overseeing conventional Marine ground forces in southwestern Afghanistan, said the local police are critical to rehabilitating the country’s most war-torn areas. They are more effective at spotting signs an American might overlook, like the Pakistani sandals on a militant’s feet, he said, and they have more credibility than coalition or even Afghan national forces who usually hail from other areas of the country and don’t speak the same language as the villagers.

“What probably was a tight-woven fabric has been broken apart. Where that fabric has frayed, some of the glue is the local police. Because if the three of us are nominating our sons, we have some skin in the game,” Berger said. He cautioned, however: “It’s not a quick process. People want to wake up tomorrow and have nirvana, but it takes many months.”

New ones are still being established, but many of the existing programs are reaching maturity, commanders said, and are being transferred to Afghan control as the local police are put on the Ministry of the Interior payroll.

Critics deride the local police as militias susceptible to human rights abuses and warlordism of the kind that spawned the Taliban takeover. But Marine commanders say this approach may be the best hope for long-term peace in a country with a weak central government and strong history of tribalism.

About a year and a half after the forces moved into Puzeh, the area has about 120 local police, a functioning community council that interacts with the district, a refurbished school and a mosque under construction. Three civilians were injured by insurgent bombs in the last couple months — historically a low number for the area — and the main road is regularly trafficked and long since cleared of explosives.

Insurgents remain an active threat on the outskirts, as the memorial under construction last month in Puzeh to seven local policemen killed in action attests. But the program helping the village secure itself is virtually on auto pilot now, with U.S. special operations forces remaining on site as a quick reaction force and Afghan troops handling most recruit training to replace ones fired by local elders.

Puzeh is so calm that Matt and his Afghan counterpart, a 27-year-old special forces commander named Qurbaan, don’t wear body armor when they roll in their all-terrain vehicle out the metal gates of their compound to take the pulse and chat with villagers.

Qurbaan stands on the road wearing rubber slippers, bouncing a baby girl on his hip as he grips hands and grins and fobs off pleas for gasoline. “My daughter,” he jokes in English, with perfect political pitch.

The Puzeh local police scored two of their biggest victories this summer. In June they repelled an attack by upwards of 75 insurgents. Then in mid-July they tracked several Taliban commanders and pinned them against a cliff with gunfire until a coalition air strike finished them off.

One of the insurgents, a 30-something named Zahid easily recognized by the metal brace on his leg, had terrorized the village. After being wounded 11 times, “he had kind of taken on a boogie man persona,” said Ryan, the Marine special operations team chief.

When the Afghan local police paraded his body through town on a donkey, hundreds of people thronged the road. Afghan men approached the gates of the special operations forces compound with tears in their eyes and fired guns in celebration.

“The boogie man was dead,” Ryan said, and it wasn’t the Americans who found him. “It was Afghan Local Police.”

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