Anger, like war wounds, festers at Afghan hospital

By TRACEY EATON / The Dallas Morning News

KHOJA BAHAUDDIN, Afghanistan – After the Taliban militia killed his father and brother, Abdul Shaeed knew what he had to do.

He picked up a gun, a battered Kalashnikov rifle. And suddenly this fresh-faced kid was on the front lines fighting for his life. For his family. His village.

"I've seen the enemy," the 18-year-old said, "and I wasn't afraid. I fought."

His story is like many others in Afghanistan. He is young and has dreams. But if the odds have anything to do with it, he probably won't see his 47th birthday – the average life expectancy for Afghan men.

Mr. Shaeed is a foot soldier in the latest of a series of wars that have battered Afghanistan over the centuries. He sees no way out.

It's fight or die, he said. Joining the ruling Taliban militia isn't an alternative. "And so I will fight. I will fight as soon as I am well."

Mr. Shaeed was shot in the foot during a battle with the Taliban, the Islamic militia that controls about 90 percent of the country. The teenager is recovering at a hospital in Khoja Bahauddin in remote northern Afghanistan.

The scene at the hospital is grim. Some of the wounded languish in beds as flies buzz at their wounds. Others are confined to tents outside the building, where the wind and passing Russian-made jeeps kick up billowing clouds of fine brown dust.

Amruddin Samullah, one of six doctors at the hospital, said he doesn't have enough medicine or equipment.

Mir Agha, a 20-year-old soldier, was shot in the head during a recent battle. Now in a recovery room, he isn't getting much better.

"He needs a brain surgeon," the doctor said. "We don't have one. We need so much help."

Other patients seem to be recovering. One Afghan refugee – a 12-year-old boy with a one-word name, Zebullah – was seriously wounded in a rocket attack. He lost part of his right foot, and metal fragments tore into his stomach. Doctors weren't sure they could save him, but they did.

On Thursday morning, the boy hobbled around on a creaky set of wooden crutches. Then he made his way back to his tent and managed a smile.

His mother was silent. She looked anguished: Her husband and another son were killed in the rocket attack.

Finally, the boy's grandmother spoke.

"The Taliban did it," she said bitterly. "They attacked our village because opposition troops were living among us."

For three weeks, U.S. planes have been bombing Afghanistan in hopes of defeating Taliban forces and rooting out Osama bin Laden, the prime suspect in the Sept. 11 attacks.

Abdul Majid, also a patient at the hospital, praised the attacks. At 60, he is considered old in Afghanistan. His life has been harsh, dominated by war.

He fought against the Soviets, who invaded in 1979 and occupied the country for 10 years. After the Soviets pulled out, Mr. Majid said, he wanted only peace in his life. His religion is all about peace, he said. He is a devout Muslim and prays to Allah five times a day.

Then one month ago, Mr. Majid piled some goods and produce onto a burro and began a two-day walk to Khoja Bahauddin.

A land mine – one of millions scattered throughout the country – was buried along the dirt road. It blew off his right leg below the knee.

"The wound doesn't hurt," he said from his hospital bed. "But I am angry. I am so angry that I lost my leg. I blame the Taliban. They are criminals. Already they killed a son of mine. They burned my house down. Now this."

But he said his wounds won't stop him from battling on.

"I'll get an artificial leg, and I will fight again."

Mr. Shaeed, the teenager, is from a different age, a different generation. Yet he, too, can think only of fighting.

He said he first went into battle at 17 and has had five kills. More will come, he vows.

But what if Afghanistan sees peace? What if the war ends? What will he do?

"I will be a soldier," he said.