The Dead End: The Road to Afghanistan

740 Pages·2012·2.12 MB·English

by  Emily Johnson

Introduction

Hundreds of books—memoirs, histories, fiction, poetry, chronicles of military units,
and journalistic essays—have been written about the Soviet war in Afghanistan. If the topic
has not yet been entirely exhausted, it certainly has been very well documented.
But what led up to the invasion? How was the decision to bring troops into
Afghanistan made? What was the basis for the decision? Who opposed the intervention and
who had the final word? And what kind of mystical country is this that lures, with an almost
maniacal insistence, the most powerful world states into its snares? In the nineteenth and
early twentieth century it was the British, in the 1980s it was the Soviet Union, and now
America and its allies continue the legacy.
Impoverished and incredibly backward Afghanistan, strange as it may seem, is not
just a normal country. Due to its strategically important location in the center of Asia, the
mountainous country has long been in the sights of more than its immediate neighbors. But
woe to anyone who arrives there with weapon in hand, hoping for an easy gain—the
barefoot and illiterate Afghans consistently bury the hopes of the strange foreign soldiers
who arrive along with battalions of tanks and strategic bombers.
To understand Afghanistan is to see into your own future.
To comprehend what happened there, what happens there continually, is to avoid
great tragedy.
One of the critical moments in the modern history of Afghanistan is the period from
April 27, 1978, when the “April Revolution” took place in Kabul and the leftist People’s
Democratic Party seized control of the country, until December 27, 1979, when Soviet
special forces, obeying their “international duty,” eliminated the ruling leader and installed
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another leader of the same party in his place. This twenty-month period is the key to
unlocking an understanding of many of the events and on-going developments in the
Middle East.
The bloody coup d’état of April 1978, in the course of which revolutionaries killed
President Mohammad Daoud, his family, and his allies, was the first link in a lengthy chain
of plots, intrigues, and murders over the next years. It was the April Revolution’s
suppression of Islamic fundamentalist forces that both stymied the Islamists’ reach for
power and subsequently facilitated their consolidation of forces. It also fostered
international support for their cause from both eastern and western states. The April
Revolution was the world’s last (and for the time being) social coup, the executors of which
proclaimed noble aspirations but suffered a devastating defeat. The agents of the coup to a
large extent dug their own graves.
Why were the masses unsupportive of, and often even tremendously resistant to,
the revolutionaries’ aspirations to lead Afghanistan out of the darkness of the medieval
ages, to conduct economic reforms, and to transform the country by instilling democratic
principles? How is it that the Kremlin, quite pleased with the prior bourgeois feudal regime
of Mohammad Daoud, and at first quite nonchalant about the April Revolution, became the
revolution’s de facto hostage? Who were the agents responsible for the murder of Adolf
Dubs, and what motivated the assassination? Was Hafizullah Amin an agent of the CIA?
What were the various roles of the politicians, military personnel, special services, and
diplomats behind those events?
To this day there are more questions than answers.
2
When the Kremlin’s “international duty”/intervention began in 1979, only a “limited
contingent of Soviet troops” was envisaged. The operation very quickly escalated into a
prolonged regional engagement, which led to direct conflicts between the Soviet Union and
a broad coalition of Western countries, the Islamic East, and China. By the time the conflict
was concluded nearly ten years later, it had made an indelible impact on the world. It can
be considered the final note of the great standoff that comprised the essence of global
politics during the preceding decades.
The debate over whether Soviet troops should have crossed their southern borders
in those years will not die down any time soon. Was the intervention an inevitable
response to dangerous threats posed by external enemies or was it a fatal mistake? Were
there other means to prevent the dangerous machinations of Islamic radicals and retain
Afghanistan in the sphere of Soviet influence? Supporters on either side have weighty
arguments to justify their positions. One thing, however, is obvious. The enemies of the
Soviet Union capitalized on the strategic opportunity afforded by the intervention
brilliantly, first by enmeshing Moscow in an exhaustive war of attrition and then by
labeling the USSR an “evil empire,” a designation that would stay with the nation for a long
time.
The perspective that contends that the war in Afghanistan expedited the processes
that eventually led to the destruction of the Soviet project and state is widely accepted and
disseminated. It cannot be denied that the war had a terribly negative impact on the Soviet
economy, corrupted the moral foundation of the state, and drastically reduced the number
of the USSR’s international allies.
3
However, if one examines the military activity of the Fortieth Army, as well as the
measures implemented by thousands of Soviet advisors in Afghanistan, it should be
*
acknowledged that by the time of the “limited contingent’s” departure from the DRA , many
of their goals had been accomplished. It can be said with confidence that were it not for the
chaos that marked the minds and actions of the Russian leaders following the collapse of
the USSR, and were it not for their abandonment of the Afghan president Najibullah, who
was left to face his powerful enemies on his own, the history of the Middle East would have
developed very differently. There would be no Talibs, drugs, terrorists, or subsequent
invasion by NATO coalition forces. This, however, is conjecture.
It is obvious that the Soviet Union was not led into Afghanistan by the capricious
desires of individual politicians within the USSR’s Communist Party, but rather by the
confluence of a great deal of both objective and subjective circumstances, the logical result
of geopolitical positioning over the preceding three decades of the Cold War.
For the authors of this book, Afghanistan and the tragic events that we describe do
not belong to some fantastic and abstract story, but to our very lives. One of us, as a staff
member of the Soviet embassy in Kabul, witnessed the first stage of the April Revolution
first-hand and even directly participated in the events. The other author, as a journalist and
historian, has visited the mystical country many times and has written countless articles,
books, and a dissertation on the subject. In our work we naturally rely upon not only our
own memories, but on open sources (books, articles, and monographs published in Russia
and abroad), archival documents (many of which are quoted here for the first time), as well
as invaluable eyewitness accounts and reports from those who participated in the events (a

* The official name of the state of Afghanistan from Apr. 30, 1978-Nov. 30, 1987
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full listing of which is provided at the end of the book). We would like to express our
enormous gratitude to all of our sources. Despite our backgrounds as historians, we
intentionally decided against relating a dry point-by-point account of what transpired, and
obepltleeds- lientsttreeasd for the more ambitious approach of political investigation in the form of a
narrative. We believe that such a format will attract a broad readership
interested in the key moments of modern history. All of the situations described in the
book are real. The conversations in which the authors did not directly participate have
been reconstructed based on archival documents and the narratives of the actual
participants. During our work on the book we verified every oral account.
There is not one fabricated character in the book. A few names of KGB operatives
who were working undercover in Kabul have been changed at their request.

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Chapter 1:
VIRUS: How the invasion of Afghanistan infected us. How we were infected by the
invasion of Afghanistan

Springtime brings the roar of thunderstorms to the capital of Afghanistan. The clear
and sunny morning skies darken perceptibly as the lengthening days draw towards noon
and heavy black clouds creep over the mountain ranges, encompassing the city. The faint
glean of heat that shimmers on the ground is sensed by the whole human organism before
the sight recognizes it as the signal of the day’s transition from a radiant morning to a
sweltering afternoon. As the storm approaches, the lack of oxygen creates the impression
that the encroaching thunderclouds are wringing out any remaining fresh air. In these
moments the earlier polyphonic harmony of the city loses cohesion and the noises of
pedestrian activity begin to sound discordantly amplified and distorted by the incipient
gloom. The wind picks up as nascent dust devils carry discarded papers, plastic bags, and
other trash, all the while stinging skin and eyes with irritating sand. Suddenly a flash of
light, a delayed report of thunder, and a few ripe, warm drops fall scattered in the dusty
streets, announcing the imminent downpour. Soon lightning will flash almost incessantly.
The heavy storm clouds, laden with electricity, rapidly approach the capital until bolts of
lightning seem to strike from directly overhead. Thunder becomes a continuous rumble.
The storm will continue for an hour or two before the thunder relents and the black
clouds begin to disperse. The fallen rainwater forms puddles that are sucked into the
greedy soil right before your eyes. The clouds depart towards the same mountains over
which they recently arrived and the sun once more begins to shine. The storms sap the
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days’ heat and make the evenings surprisingly pleasant. The air, sweltering only a few
hours earlier, is fresh and cool and carries with it the scents of the herbs and wildflowers of
the surrounding mountain slopes. The aromas of the blooming bushes and fruit trees
coalesce into a single fragrance. Birds chirp. Soon the sun follows the clouds over the
Paghman Mountains, coloring their snowy peaks with gold and burgundy. The night
arrives, a myriad of pulsing stars appear in the black sky, and beyond the horizon,
somewhere far past the mountains, the red bursts of other thunderstorms, either coming or
going, flash silently.
On Wednesday, April 26, 1978, a powerful thunderstorm descended upon Kabul. The
downpour lasted until evening. The first secretary of the Soviet embassy, Victor Bubnov, a
tall, strapping young man, had just returned home from work and was walking out to his
lawn to enjoy the fresh air and play with the massive furry dog that guarded his villa when
the telephone rang inside. Uncharacteristically quickly for a man of his stature, Victor
darted into the house and took the receiver. A familiar voice asked for Fayiz Jan to come to
the phone in Dari.
“There is no such man in this house, you must have the wrong number,” Bubnov
replied in a boring official tone before replacing the receiver. He rubbed his balding head
with a palm and issued a heavy sigh. It was clear that he would not be able to enjoy the cool
and quiet spring evening.
Victor was a Soviet foreign intelligence officer. The “mistaken” phone call with the
predetermined phrase was a code inviting him to an emergency meeting with Agent
“Mahmoud.”
Victor understood that this emergency rendezvous did not bode well—that he
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should be prepared for a very important, perhaps tragic, event, either currently developing
or having just occurred. Mahmoud was an Afghan officer, a member of the Central
Committee of the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA). He was well versed in
the political intrigues of his country and had a discerning eye for important information
pertinent to his many contacts. Mahmoud would not make an emergency call lightly.
In those days, Kabul was shaken by a series of destabilizing events. Nine days
earlier, on April 17, unknown figures had assassinated Mir Akbar Khyber, one of the
leaders of the PDPA. Khyber had been widely regarded as the “honor and conscience” of the
party. No one took responsibility for the assassination. No one could with certainty name
the assassins or those who had ordered the murder to be carried out. The PDPA
immediately took advantage of the incendiary atmosphere in the wake of the tragedy to
rally thousands of protestors in the streets. Khyber’s funeral became an impressive anti-
government demonstration. Among the participants were not only PDPA members and
supporters, but also many residents of Kabul who had never before shown interest in
politics, much less taken part in a protest.
The president of the country, Mohammad Daoud, was indignant and apprehensive.
Never before in the history of Afghanistan had so many people taken to the streets to
demonstrate their unhappiness with the governing regime. After long considerations and
consultations with his closest advisors, President Daoud decided to take a gamble. He
issued an arrest warrant for seven leaders of the PDPA. The list of names included the
general secretary, Nur Muhammad Taraki, and his deputy, Babrak Karmal.
In the quiet April days following Khyber’s burial, Bubnov and his colleagues sensed
anger fermenting in the capital. At 8:30 p.m. Bubnov took his aged blue Toyota to the
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arranged meeting point for the emergency rendezvous with Mahmoud. When he arrived he
saw his agent wearing traditional Pashtun garb, stalking between the alleyways. Victor
turned the headlights off and drove in the dark before stopping the car and unlocking the
doors. The agent quickly jumped into the back seat of the car. After the traditional Afghan
welcome and an apology for bothering his Soviet friend, he proceeded to explain the
important reason for the clandestine meeting.
By the time Victor brought the agent back home, a hot meal was served and waiting
for them in the guest room. A cold bottle of Stolichnaya stood sweating on the coffee table.
Bubnov invited his guest to join him at the table. The agent sat down and put food on his
plate, but refused to drink the alcohol.
“Thank you, Comrade Victor,” said Mahmoud, bowing with a hand on his heart, “But
tonight I must return to the open session of the Central Committee and the officers of our
faction, ‘Khalq.’ This is no ordinary session; the destiny of Afghanistan will be determined
tonight. Whether or not there will be an armed uprising will be decided in this session.”
“Uprising?” Victor asked as calmly as possible, raised eyebrows revealing his
concern.
“The goal of the uprising would be to oust the fascist regime of Mohammad Daoud
and liberate our imprisoned comrades.”
“And, so, what do you expect the participants of the session will decide to do?”
“Most of them support an armed uprising, although a few are still uncertain,”
answered Mahmoud. “They’ll probably end up with a majority. There’s been good work
done among the officers—members of Khalq—in the last twenty-four hours. We are almost
certain of receiving support from the Fourth Armored Brigade and the Bagram Airborne
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Division. We also have solid positions in the Seventh Infantry Division. But I’ve come to you
to do more than just alert you of these developments; my comrades have sent me to
investigate how the Soviet leadership would respond to our decision to move forward with
the uprising. Can you, tonight, find that out?”
The officer fell deep into thought, his hand automatically reaching for a glass of
mineral water. “I’ll try to do all I can,” he mumbled. He took the notebook that was always
placed on a coffee table in the guest room and wrote down both the information and the
question for the Soviet leadership. Then he went into the kitchen where his wife was
preparing tea. He gave her the note and told her to run quickly to the embassy, deliver the
message to the KGB resident in Kabul, and request an immediate reply. He then picked up a
tray loaded with tea, raisins, and nuts, and returned to the guest room.
Antonina, as a good intelligence officer’s wife, did not ask unnecessary questions.
She reached the embassy in the dark, using the empty and unlit streets. The resident was
away from his office. He could be found neither at the embassy nor at his home. It was
possible that he had left for a meeting in town. Antonina gave the note to the deputy
resident of the Kabul KGB Residence, Orlov-Morozov, and relayed what her husband had
told her. Afterwards, she asked some diplomats working late at the embassy to give her a
ride home.
Victor knew that it would be impossible to receive a reply from Moscow before the
morning. The resident and even the ambassador were not authorized to make decisions
regarding such important matters. Once his wife returned, Victor told his guest that the
information had been sent to Moscow. However, it was unlikely that they would receive a
response in the next few hours. So as to avoid being chided for the slow pace, Victor
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