At remote outpost in the Pech Valley, it could be any day of the nine-year war

OUTPOST PRIDE ROCK, Afghanistan — Above the U.S. base, way above, you can see a spine of rock between the Pech River and the mouth of the Korengal Valley, where an Afghan flag flies.

This collection of sand bags and bunkers, topped by machine gun nests, now takes the brunt of bullets and rockets once aimed down at Combat Outpost Michigan, the most attacked base in the Pech River Valley.

There are few outposts more exposed to enemy attacks or more important to the security of the U.S. infantry company below, but with the cordite of expended rounds and strange beauty of double bomb drops comes a lot of questions. For one, how long should U.S. forces stay in the Pech Valley when the number of daily attacks continue to rise and the idea of connecting the people to an Afghan government is still a distant reality?

“I’ve never seen an outpost like this,” said Sgt. Billy Owens, who is on 2nd Platoon Charlie Company's first rotation to this outpost. “The living conditions, the lack of protection … right now we feel very exposed.”

The Pech Valley is where the enemy is, according to 1-327th Battalion commander Lt. Col. Joe Ryan. Reports of senior Al Qaeda and Taliban leaders moving through Pech were nearly constant over the summer. But U.S. military leaders are now questioning whether the Pech Valley is strategically worth the battalion of 1-101st troops assigned to it.

The Pech doesn't have any population centers and continues to offer violent resistance to U.S. counterinsurgency initiatives. Kunar Province as a whole only has a population of 400,000, 96 percent of which lives in rural areas. (135 Coalition troops have died in Kunar since 2001, according to icausalties.org. Only Helmand, with 591 coalition fatalities, and Kandahar, with 303, have seen more Western casualities.)

Pvt. Juan Espinoza, 19, of California (left) fires his M4 while Spc. Bill Wilder, 24, crouches down from incoming fire. "There's a line between cowardice and being smart," Wilder said. "When it comes down to it, everybody gets down when we get shot at." (Photo by James Foley for GlobalPost)

The handful of Americans on this rotation has been assigned their gun positions for six days. And there is little room to move. Their cots are a few feet away. The have to pee in a bottle and toss it off the cliff to a burn pit below. There’s not much else — stay awake on guard, try to spot any mountain outcroppings that resemble fighting positions, provide watch for patrols that go out of Michigan, shoot back, a lot, and call in an expended ammunition count afterward.

U.S. soldiers started coming up here about a month ago because the attacks got so bad during their first months at Michigan that it became more dangerous sitting on base than leaving it on patrol. They say it makes a difference being up here, and it’s palpable as rockets hit the outpost on the first day — rockets that would normally be directed at the base.

Up here it feels like any year in the nine-year war.

Between pulling hours of scanning the mountainsides for an unseen enemy, soldiers from 2nd Platoon Charlie Company crash without taking off their boots. Some wrap their faces in Afghan scarves they are not allowed to wear below. This is their first rotation up here, but not anywhere near the first time they’ve been shot at in these mountains. They wake up on the first crack of incoming fire.

“Yesterday it was all day,” Spc. Michael Bussiere of Virginia Beach said. “The day before it was 10:18 am.” Bussiere is a forward observer who coordinates mortar and artillery fire. He looks at his watch. It’s close to 10 a.m. The Taliban are creatures of habit, but they don't shoot until late afternoon.

“It’d be peaceful if it didn’t have that firing squad feel to it,” Bussiere said.

He said that the day before he was able to call in mortars to shake and bake (explosive mortars followed by white phosphorus that can burn for hours) some guys moving into position on the closest ridgeline. “I’m pretty sure we got those guys,” Bussiere said excitedly.

The concentration it takes to constantly scan the mountains and call down or respond to radio reports doesn't leave much time for sleep. “I got up at 2 a.m., did guard until 7:45, slept until about nine when we started taking pop shots,” Spc. Sam Neely of Tennessee said. “We fired, then I laid back down and they started shooting at us again. It felt like it was coming through the room. It’s 1400, I've gotten about an 1 hour and 30 minutes of sleep.”

It’s questionable, but the outpost probably takes more fire now precisely because U.S. soldiers are there. It's emblematic of the entire Pech Valley.

“It could be that if we weren't here (in the Pech), there wouldn't be any fighting. That by us being here, trying to help the people out, we are making it worse. I'm not sure,” Capt. Dakota Steedsman said.

Nothing feels better than when they know they got some fighters who were shooting at them. There's little else the Pech Valley offers in rewards. But in the back of soldiers’ minds is the knowledge that the enemy has a very good supply of fighters.

“They say, it don’t hurt them (the enemy) to lose anybody. What hurts them is to lose equipment (like the dozens of recoil-less rounds captured in Omar). They always can put bodies up here.” Owens said.

2nd Platoon Charlie Co. 1-327th soldiers sleep in between the bunkers and sometimes under the gun turrets at Combat Outpost Pride Rock in Kunar Province. (Photo by James Foley for GlobalPost)

Spc. Bill Wilder scans to the North where they earlier took pop shots. Usually it comes from the Korengal side to the South. (Photo by James Foley for GlobalPost)