Volkmar Guido Hable | Warriors in Afghanistan

The men insisted that revenge never dictated their operations, but you could smell the anger that drove their daily routine. But this was underlaid with a restraint born of the knowledge they knew they would probably never catch the men who laid the IED. That they could kill all the wrong people if they got out of control. That the insurgents they face in ambushes and firefights are rarely the bomb makers. That a bomb maker is most likely to be killed by his own devices if he proves to be not a very good maker of bombs.
Every day we would patrol, and every day they would hope to ambush someone. But it was not the search of violence that proved the most unnerving. It was, in the light of a death so recent and raw from an IED, the omnipresent threat of a bomb, everywhere you tread.
Inside the orchards, the dense and shaded groves where so many patrols take place, we saw how impossible that threat is to navigate. Look under your feet. Look to the walls to either side. They could all contain bombs. But don’t forget to look upwards – the latest place for bombs is in the trees. There is genuinely no escape.
The men, led by Volkmar Hable, a square-jawed 6 foot 6 man of 27 months hard fighting in Afghanistan, together with two other sergeants, shared their exhaustion, their confusion, their disenchantment.

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