Sherard Cowper-Coles - Cables from Kabul - The Inside Story of the West’s Afghanistan Campaign

In memory of

Richard Holbrooke,

who gave his life for peace

Title Page Sherard Cowper-Coles Cables from Kabul

Dedication

List of Illustrations

Map of Afghanistan

Map of Kabul

Tribute to the Fallen

Preface

Part I: Beginnings

1 An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse

2 First Impressions

3 Helmandshire

4 ‘A Marathon Rather Than A Sprint’

5 Breather Break

Part II: Hope Over Experience

6 A King’s Funeral

7 The Spreading Virus

8 The Great Game – Round Four

9 Hooked on Drugs

10 Coping in Kabul

11 Highland Fling: Karzai in Scotland

12 Mr Brown Comes to Town

Part III: Against An Ebbing Tide

13 Reversal of Fortune

14 ‘We Are Winning – Only It Doesn’t Feel Like It’

15 The Karzai Conundrum

16 Cracking On in Helmand

17 Afghan Attitudes

18 Waiting for Obama

Part IV: Tactics Without Strategy: One Last Heave

19 Biden and Beyond

20 Au Revoir Afghanistan

21 Richard Holbrooke’s Flying Circus

22 Where’s Dick?

Part V: Recessional

23 Embassy Encore

24 Untying the Knot

25 Three Lessons Learned

26 Back to the Future

Photographic Insert

Endpapers

Acknowledgements

Abbreviations

Searchable Terms

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

‘Another day, another new Afghan strategy’ cartoon by Pugh © Jonathan Pugh/The Times/NI Syndication

‘Afghanistan – “It’s a marathon rather than a sprint”’ cartoon by JAS © JAS/The Telegraph

The British Residence in Kabul in 1968. Photograph by a member of the British Embassy staff

S C-C with the Grenadier Guards in Helmand. Photograph by 1st Battalion, Grenadier Guards

S C-C and Lieutenant Colonel Carew Hatherley. Photograph by 1st Battalion, Grenadier Guards

All other photographs are from the author’s private collection and were taken either by him or by friends, colleagues or family members.

Text of Diplomatic Telegram of 24 February 2008 from HM Ambassador Kabul to the Foreign Secretary in London:

1 On 23 February, thanks to a fortunate delay in obtaining a helicopter flight from Camp Bastion to Lashkar Gah, I was able to join Lt Gen Jonathon Riley (Deputy Commanding General, ISAF) and several hundred other British and allied troops at the Service of Repatriation for Corporal Damian Stephen Lawrence of the 2nd Battalion, The Yorkshire Regiment (The Green Howards). As this was the first British ‘ramp ceremony’ I had attended (I had once been to a much more elaborate Canadian ceremony at Kandahar), I cannot resist recording what I saw and heard, and felt.

2 Corporal Lawrence had died on 17 February, on operations with the Afghan National Army as part of an Operational Mentoring and Liaison Team. This difficult and dangerous work, performed with quiet distinction by the 2nd Yorks, is the keystone of our strategy in Afghanistan.

3 We gathered an hour before sunset. The troops – scores of Corporal Lawrence’s regimental comrades, men and women of all ranks and regiments of the British Army, 40 Commando Royal Marines, the Royal Navy, the Royal Guards Hussars of the Danish Army, Estonians and Americans, were formed into a great three-sided square, facing west towards the new runway at Bastion, and the empty spaces stretching to Iran beyond.

4 In the centre of the square stood the Padre, wearing battledress beneath his bands, and the ramrod column of the Regimental Sergeant Major, Mr Hind. Before us the sun was setting across the great southern desert, casting long shadows, illuminating the whole ceremony in shades of dusty gold. There was silence. The Chinooks and Sea Kings, Apaches and Lynxes, which usually buzz in and out of Bastion every few minutes from the helicopter lines behind us, had ceased flying, out of respect for the fallen.

5 And then, out of the sky to the north, appeared a single Hercules of the Royal Air Force. With a great roar it landed, perfectly, on the runway in front of us, and taxied out of sight, and sound.

6 Corporal Lawrence’s Commanding Officer, Lt Col Simon Downey, marched stiffly out into the middle of the parade ground. The RSM called us to attention. A bearer party, found by the Green Howards, brought Corporal Lawrence’s coffin, bound in the Union flag, out on to the centre of the square.

7 The service began, in the best traditions of lapidary Army Anglicanism. Plenty of dignity, not too much religion. The words of comfort for those who mourn from St Matthew; a few prayers, with responses; St John 14 (‘In my Father’s house there are many rooms’); Binyon’s lines (‘At the going down of the sun, And in the morning, We will remember them’), barked out, improbably, by the RSM; a lone bugler played Last Post, and Reveille; a well-judged eulogy, full of humanity and humour, by Colonel Downey; a deeply moving message of maternal pride, and affection for the regiment, from Corporal Lawrence’s Mum, on the North Yorkshire coast; and finally the Collect of the Yorkshire Regiment (‘Grant to the Yorkshire Regiment in its battalions and ranks, the strength that fears … no desperate endeavours and no foe bodily and spiritual; but advances in thy righteousness through all the rough places under the Captain of our salvation …’). The Lord’s Prayer, said together, the Blessing, and the Service itself was over.

8 By now the evening wind was up, and it was growing cold. And out of the silence we heard again the gradually growing growling of the C-130’s engines, as, with impeccable timing, it taxied back into sight. Then, in an extraordinary manoeuvre, it reversed thrust, and backed into the open side of the square, to take delivery of its sad cargo.

9 With the engines still turning, a loadmaster jumped down from the rear ramp, and stood to attention. A female RAF Corporal marched out, saluted smartly, and handed him the airwaybill. The Commanding Officer, and Mr Hind, formed up alongside the ramp. The bearer party shouldered the coffin, and, accompanied by the Padre, marched with perfect precision up into the hold of the Hercules. Colonel Downey mounted the ramp. Out of sight, he said his farewell to his fallen comrade. In short order, the bearers and accompanying party dismounted, the ramp closed, the Hercules taxied out, and took off. We stood in silence, listening to the fading murmur of its engines.

10 And then, in one of the most striking moments of the whole ceremony, from out of the setting sun came the roar of the Hercules, flying in fast and low. As the aircraft passed over, and started to climb, the starboard wing dipped, in impossibly eloquent tribute from the Royal Air Force to Corporal Lawrence and all those who had fallen here. As we watched, the aeroplane climbed in a great wheeling turn, up into a still blue north-eastern sky, taking Corporal Lawrence on back home, via Kandahar and Brize Norton, to North Yorkshire.