At day's end, residents of Afghan capital hunker down for nightly air raids

By KATHY GANNON
Associated Press Writer

KABUL, Afghanistan – Darkness settles on the shattered city. Candles flicker in the windows. Everyone is waiting for the U.S. jets to come.

"When the planes come my daughter hides behind me" said Mohammed Gul gesturing behind his leg. "And my other small son hides behind the other leg."

The setting sun washes the hills that surround the Afghan capital in a pale pink glow. The waning sun's rays dance over the dust that hangs in the air.

The moon is almost full.

It leaves an eerie glow on the darkened city. There's the rumble of the trucks __ a roving anti-aircraft unit.

A horn blares. The last of the cars are hurrying to get off the street.

The only restaurant still open is hurrying its customers out the door. The few men who are in the cavernous room, illuminated by bright blue and pink fluorescent lights, talk about last night. And the coming night.

"Well last night was quiet, I hope tonight too we can sleep," says one.

"Yes, but I am afraid. Yesterday morning there were too many victims," says another.

"Yes, but over there, there were thousands of victims," says his friend, referring to the 4,000 who died in the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks on New York and Washington. "It is like 80 per cent more died there."

The conversation goes on until the restaurant owner pushes them out the door and shuts off the lights.

The evening call to prayer sounds. Everything is quiet now. The waiting has begun.

The U.S. bombing campaign defines virtually every aspect of daily life in this city of 1 million people.

In a Taliban office earlier Monday, the windows that still had panes were wide open. A turbaned Taliban official, Mustaq, explained. "It's in case the jets come during the day," he says. If the window were closed, the bomb blast could send glass flying through the room.

As he spoke, a high-flying jet can be heard overhead. He smiled.

There was a fine layer of dust on the table as the usual cup of sweet black tea was brought and placed along with plates of cookies. He apologized for the dust.

"We spend most of our time in the basement. We don't pay enough attention to cleaning the offices anymore."

He wanted to talk about the U.S.-led air campaign against the Taliban. He said he wanted to know the aim of the bombing.

"What do they think they will accomplish bombing the city?" he asked, without waiting for an answer. "Nothing. Only 12 Taliban have been killed since this began and hundreds of civilians."

The Pentagon rejects Taliban death tolls and has expressed regret for civilian casualties in the allied assault on Afghanistan. President Bush ordered the airstrikes Oct. 7 after the Taliban refused to hand over suspected terrorist Osama bin Laden and his al-Qaida network.

Mustaq, who is in his late 20s, pushed his turban onto the back of his head and wondered aloud where it would finally end.

"Look at what happened in Pakistan," he said, referring to Sunday's massacre of 16 Christians in a church in Bahawalpur.

"What is happening?" he asks. "And in New York, we mourned when we heard. But now in Afghanistan they are bombing us."

He was not convinced that the bombing would stop if the Taliban handed over bin Laden and his al Qaida followers, he said, though he was quick to note that such an option was not being considered.

"Where is the proof that he was behind the bombing?" he asked, repeating the same question asked by Taliban officials since Sept. 11. The United States says it has plenty of evidence. Washington also says there will be no negotiating with the Taliban.

It seems to be a stalemate.

Despite being outgunned by the United States and its allies, Mustaq believes the Taliban regime will survive. A pistol sticks out of the holster slung over his shoulder.

"I carry this in case the U.S. commandos come," he said.

AP-WS-10-29-01 1552EST