TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/020689/02068900.034

Text File | 1992-09-23 | 10.0 KB | 192 lines

                                                                                WORLD, Page 38

AFGHANISTAN

Waiting for the End


As the last Soviets leave Kabul, the embattled capital shudders
at the prospect of the bloody siege that is certain to come

By Edward W. Desmond/KABUL


    The front is just outside Kabul. From the center of the
city, it is easy to spot a series of outposts -- small,
mud-walled fortresses -- on the snowy mountaintops that ring the
capital. Soviet and Afghan troops man the redoubts around the
clock, watching for guerrilla movement in the valleys beyond.
As soon as mujahedin activity is spotted, Soviet artillery goes
into action, and the boom of outgoing fire echoes through the
city.

    The defense of Kabul, however, is undergoing its biggest
change since the Soviets invaded Afghanistan a decade ago.
Having already withdrawn most of its 115,000-strong invasion
force, Moscow has now begun pulling out the last of the
estimated 15,000 troops who form the Kabul garrison and defend
the corridor north to the Soviet border. By Feb. 15, the last
Soviet soldier is scheduled to be gone from Afghanistan, and the
Afghan military will bear sole responsibility for the security
of the capital as well as the rest of the country.

    Then the question will be when, not if, the Soviet-backed
regime of President Najibullah will fall. Though all the
country's major cities are still under government control,
Kandahar and Jalalabad, two of the five largest, have seen their
defenses crumble under mujahedin attacks. Moscow insists it is
determined to ensure the survival of Najibullah's government,
but nearly all diplomats in Kabul believe the regime will
collapse within months, perhaps even weeks, of Feb. 15. As the
prospect of a bloody siege grew last week, U.S. Secretary of
State James Baker ordered the closing of the American embassy
in Kabul and told the eight U.S. diplomats still in Afghanistan
to leave the country. The British, French, Italians and Japanese
decided to follow suit and announced that they would be
withdrawing their diplomats from Afghanistan.

    Though Kabul has not yet come under consistent, heavy
military barrage, the city is vulnerable to attacks that may cut
 the Salang Highway, the 264-mile road that climbs the towering
Hindu Kush and crosses long stretches of mujahedin-controlled
territory to the Soviet border. In a move to push the guerrilla
forces back from the highway, Soviet and Afghan troops last week
shelled villages south of the Salang Tunnel, killing hundreds
of civilians and refugees.

    The Soviet pullback from the capital began about three
weeks ago, even as Yuli Vorontsov, the Soviet Ambassador to
Afghanistan and a Deputy Foreign Minister, threatened that
Moscow would halt the withdrawal if the mujahedin leadership did
not accept some participation by  Najibullah's People's
Democratic Party of Afghanistan (P.D.P.A.) in a shura, or
council of leaders, that would choose a new government. The
mujahedin, smelling a bluff, would not budge, and the pullout
from Kabul continued.

    Ilyushin-76 transport flights in and out of the capital are
running at a dozen a day, many carrying Soviet soldiers home.
Two large Soviet bases north of the city are deserted. The main
Soviet hospital has been turned over to Afghans, and Moscow has
reduced its embassy staff by two-thirds, to about 100 people.
Soviet infantrymen still patrol Kabul's streets, but they expect
to be home within days. "It was a mistake to come here," says
a trooper in the central shopping area. "And we are never coming
back. It is up to the Afghan people to find a solution to their
problems."

    Political solutions are not uppermost in the minds of most
of the 2.2 million residents of Kabul. They are worrying about
day-to-day survival. The winter has been unusually harsh. With
the exception of the Salang Highway, roads into the city are
cut, resulting in shortages of bread, diesel fuel, sugar,
kerosene and other basics; electricity is available only part
of the time. The Kabul grain silo, which usually holds a stock
of 20,000 tons, has been empty at several points in the past few
weeks. The poor are especially vulnerable because they cannot
afford to shop at relatively well-stocked black-market outlets
where bread is sold for more than a dollar a loaf, ten times the
official price.

    Two weeks ago, hundreds of people, many with no more than
a cotton wrap to protect them against sub-zero cold, queued up
outside stores and gas stations to try to buy food, as well as
fuel for their space heaters. As early as 3 a.m., young children
were out in the freezing night, waiting outside bakeries that
would not open for several hours and then might have only a few
undersize loaves for sale. In Khair Khana, a residential area,
a thousand women and children pushed and shoved for flour and
fuel provided by the Soviets. Afghan soldiers thrashed the crowd
with blankets and sticks to keep order. Last week an emergency
Soviet airlift, along with the arrival of large convoys on the
Salang, greatly alleviated the food shortages,, but despite
Moscow's promises, it was unclear how long that aid could
continue.

    Conflicts within the leadership of Najibullah's P.D.P.A.
are so pronounced that since last fall the Soviets have retired,
jailed or shipped to Moscow three members of the Afghan
Politburo and several from the Central Committee. The regime
claims to have 500,000 men under arms, but the figure appears
to be grossly inflated. Though the Afghan army includes some
well-trained and experienced units, like the 37th Commando
Brigade, it is made up mostly of conscripts, many of whom are
less than eager to fight for the regime. Apparently aware that
a number of units are unreliable, the President has created an
elite guard drawn from various security forces.

    In line with its pledge to keep the regime well armed,
Moscow has in recent weeks been sending into Kabul large
shipments of weapons and ammunition, including such advanced
hardware as the BTR-70 armored car and the BM-22 rocket
launcher. Western diplomats in Kabul believe that in the end the
resupply effort will make little difference. Says one: "They can
have all the fancy hardware they like, but it is the morale of
the troops that's critical."

    The government's most immediate military concern focuses on
the Salang. The Soviets have been able to keep the route open
by combining military muscle with diplomacy. Outposts dot the
way. Soviet officers had  an informal understanding with Ahmad
Shah Massoud, the powerful mujahedin commander in the Panjshir
Valley, north of Kabul: safe passage for Soviet vehicles as long
as Moscow keeps up the withdrawal. After last week's offensive
by Soviet and Afghan troops, that arrangement may be finished.

    After Feb. 15, the Soviets will have few options. Under the
U.N.-brokered peace accord signed in Geneva last year, they
cannot leave troops behind to guard the Salang, and Western
analysts rule out resupply exclusively by air. Still, Moscow is
doing its best to counter the impression that mujahedin pressure
on the Salang road amounts to checkmating Soviet moves to keep
the Najibullah regime alive and well. Soviet officials, for
example, have refused to rule out the possibility that aircraft
based inside the U.S.S.R. may bomb targets in Afghanistan after
Feb. 15.

    Though the Soviets are not using the terms, they are
struggling to replace an unconditional surrender with a
negotiated one. The effort is not going well. Moscow's latest
disappointment was the decision three weeks ago by the
seven-party mujahedin alliance to break off talks with the
Soviets over the issue of P.D.P.A. participation in the shura
that would precede a new government. Pakistan is putting intense
pressure on the mujahedin to break the deadlock by accepting
at least a small P.D.P.A. representation in the shura. Convinced
that a military victory is in the cards, the rebels see little
po,int in compromising. Abdul Haq, a commander whose men are
deployed outside Kabul, asks derisively, "We are supposed to sit
down and share the government with people responsible for the
death of so many of our countrymen?" The alternative will be
continued bloodshed. As a Soviet journalist puts it, "Unless
there is some agreement, thousands more will die before this war
is over."

    The mujahedin face problems of their own. Last week the
seven parties, based in Peshawar, Pakistan, were still arguing
about the composition of the proposed shura and what it should
aim to do: name a new government or endorse a predominantly
fundamentalist Muslim regime already designated by the alliance
last July. The political infighting in Peshawar will not
encourage cooperation among rebel field commanders. The
mujahedin claim to have 40,000 men  around Kabul, representing
all the main parties. In response to U.S. pressure, the
guerrillas have been lying back, allowing the Soviets to
continue their withdrawal. For the past three months, the
capital has suffered comparatively few rocket attacks. That may
change after Feb. 15. Powerful commanders like Abdul Haq  and
Ahmad Massoud have drawn up plans to take the city and keep
order once it is in their hands, but neither claims to have the
support of the dozens of commanders in the area.

    Everyone's worst fear is that Kabul will be consumed by
chaos, with government troops and the mujahedin fighting it out
house to house, street to street. Those who can abandon Kabul
at a few hours' notice are preparing to do so. The Soviets have
completed a new wall around their embassy compound and
constructed bunkers for staffers staying behind. Outside the
compound, work crews are cutting down trees and widening
Darulaman Road, an arrow-straight three-mile stretch that
diplomats believe could be used as an emergency airstrip. But
most of Kabul's citizens cannot escape or even take shelter from
the looming storm. Asked what the future holds, Aziza, a mother
of nine, responds as many people in Kabul do. "It is in God's
hands," she says.