The Afghan freedom war was raging furiously in those days. It was 1984. Pakistani posts along the Durand Line would occasionally come under Soviet artillery fire and air raids. The ones suspected by the Soviets of allowing the mujahideen and their supplies to pass through were punished more than others. Paiwar Kotal Post on Parachinar border in Kurram Agency was one such post. Forward slopes of the Paiwar Pass and Jaji Maidan, the Afghan plains below, were dominated by mujahideen led by Maulvi Rasul Syaff; they had dug tunnels and chambers in the mountain side to escape relentless Soviet bombing. Teri Mengal Fort was located on the home side where mujahideen kept their weapons, ammunition, food and medical supplies in bulk. This unfortunate dwelling was blown up at least twice by Soviet saboteurs. Paiwar Kotal dominates the shortest route to Kabul and the site of a brilliant battle won by General Roberts in 1878 at the start of the Second Afghan War. He mounted his classic strategic manoeuvre through Parachinar-Kabul approach, outflanking main Afghan defences astride the Peshawar-Kabul axis. His campaign was a resounding success. This lesson was not lost on the Soviets; they were very sensitive to mujahideen control of this militarily important area. One of my subedars (junior commissioned officers) was deployed at Paiwar Kotal in his turn as forward artillery observer. Their post was partly dug into the rock and protected by a few concrete slabs overhead. It was about noontime while in the office at Kohat, I was informed by the battalion commander at Parachinar that Pakistani defences at Paiwar Kotal had suffered heavy damage due to intense Soviet shelling and aerial bombing. The Soviets had used incendiary bombs and the pine forest was on fire. That remaining troops had taken up fresh positions but Subedar Ameer, who was also wounded, had refused to leave without specific orders from his commanding officer. This was sterling, like old times. I hopped into the jeep, took a replacement officer and drove straight for Parachinar, reaching there an hour after the sunset. Orders had been to remain confined to quarters in Parachinar after nightfall as the whole area between Parachinar and Paiwar Kotal would be infested at night with mujahideen sensitive to an unfamiliar presence. Regardless, I pushed on, was intercepted here and there by mujahideen pickets, but courteously facilitated once recognised in army uniform. From the foot of the mountain to the subedar’s post it was a three hours climb. The brave wounded subedar was duly relieved and brought back. What I saw during that fateful night was more revealing. There were long silent beelines of Afghan women, children and a few men returning after recovering from battle wounds carrying heavy loads of ammunition, rockets, food and fuel to mujahideen positions across the mountain over tortuously winding trails. They were creeping up the mountain, determined and resolute. What was more impressive was the way mujahideen, burnt by incendiary bombs, blown up by mines and sheered by tank and rocket shells, behaved. They were noble in adversity, steadfast and magnificently self-controlled despite horrible wounds, and amazingly uncomplaining about the hardship. Their aloofness from the fearful surroundings and purposefulness were quite overpowering. Dawn was already breaking when we reached the foot of the Paiwar Kotal after a rather fumbling descent because in the pitch dark we had lost the goat track on our way back. At that moment I thought I heard jingling bells, but dismissed the thought as tricks played by tiredness. The jingle became louder. As I looked up I saw a row of big and powerful Bactrian double hump camels carrying huge logs of stolen Afghan timber for the thriving timber market below in Parachinar. The track descending from the pass was winding, narrow and hopelessly precipitous, but these camels were very surefooted and steady. It was a treat seeing these beasts carefully self-adjust the load and size up the steepness before every turn downwards. Plundering of resources is a logical side effect of any war. Many many years ago, I saw the Indians pillage entire cities of Khulna and Jessore soon after the surrender in December 1971.These populous cities were literally stripped to their bare bones. From peon stool to Khulna Paper Mills, everything was dismantled and carried away. Then there was that legendary mujahideen mortar gunner who had dug burrows like a rabbit in the mountainside. He would appear from one of the firing holes with his mortar gun, fire a few quick bombs and disappear before Soviet air or artillery could take him on. He would keep the Soviet helicopter gunships, air force and artillery busy, virtually chasing their tails in that sector trying to pin him down the whole day. A dauntless spirit indeed. Another landmark of that unforgiving war was the charred carcass of a Soviet BMP destroyed only a few yards short of the last mujahideen bunker ahead of Paiwar Kotal. That was a war utterly savage and unforgiving; no quarter was given, no quarter was asked. Just below and a little inland was the famous Teri Mengal Fort where General Roberts had set up his headquarters. Mujahideen used it as their base depot to store weapons, ammunition, explosives and all sorts of battle supplies. Soviet agents were able to blow it up a number of times, which should also include accidents due to the trademark disregard to danger and careless handling by the Afghan fighters. Whatever was left of the old fort was a sorry reminder of its past glory. However, the flag-post where General Roberts’ command flag used to be mounted every morning was remarkably well preserved, perhaps as a tribute to that brave old soldier. The writer is a retired brigadier of the Pakistan Army. He can be reached at clay.potter@hotmail.com