Uphill battle to bolster Afghan police

But the work is risky. Last year three of the colonel's policemen were killed. And already this year he has lost six men – four of them to a sophisticated ambush. Nationally, the interior ministry in Kabul stated earlier this month that more than 500 police lost their lives in the previous five months.

One aim of Khyber was to increase confidence so local Afghans "will trust us … and they will see that the government of Afghanistan is trying to support the people," says Colonel Wahab of the operation that ended last week.

But nearly six years after the fall of the Taliban, senior commanders of both the police and army are still debating their roles. A directive from the Ministry of Interior last year gave latitude for both forces to "wage war" against militants, but the dispute spilled over into a recent regional security meeting in Gardez.

Operation Khyber was a "success," Maj. Gen. Abdul Khaliq, the 203rd Corps commander of the Afghan National Army (ANA), told US and Afghan officers who were present. "But unfortunately, the ANP is not able to take over and keep those achievements." Police officers are reluctant to accept jobs in Paktia, he said, "because they know they will be killed."

In six months, 52 of his soldiers died in attacks, with more than 100 wounded and many vehicles lost, General Khaliq said. "And still there is no sign of the ANP. I don't want the police to go alone, [but] in a place where there should be 40 ANP, you can't find more than five."

The regional police commander complains that his men are spread too thin and obliged to both catch criminals and "fight against terrorists," though with far fewer privileges than the Army.

"The ANP do not have the [protective] gear, but they are not fighting in the same trenches as the ANA," said police Maj. Gen. Abdul Fatah Farogh.

US soldiers embedded as mentors with Afghan police units say they see slow but steady progress – and often more hope than among similar units in Iraq. The Afghan police recruits "are good guys, but they are poorly trained, poorly fed, and poorly paid," says US Army Sgt. Willie Davis of Dillon, S.C.

"It's an uphill battle," says Sgt. First Class Jeff Bailey of Syracuse, N.Y., noting that while the police rarely get a cold reception during searches, the "noticeable lack of military-aged males when we roll in" reflects distrust of the units.

Afghan police often overhear radio chatter and have spoken directly to insurgents, asking them to come down from the mountains to "talk," says Sgt. Bailey. Once the insurgents taunted in reply: "We'll send down suicide bombers."

The episode shows one challenge to the budding police force. "You come here and spend money in the daytime," a storekeeper told Spc. Stephen Myers of Myrtle Beach, S.C., when he was patrolling with Afghan police. "The Taliban come and spend money at night."

Signs of Taliban in their midst

And militants are not always up in the mountains, if the hunch of Afghan officers conducting searches in Chawni is any measure. One house exhibited steel beams in the roof, brick walls, a porcelain sink in the hall, tinted windows and electricity – all uncommon in these poor parts, raising police suspicions.

Qomandan, a young man who wore a flashy, kitschy gold watch, said 45 people lived here; five brothers' families.

"We would appreciate if you would help the police in this area," Blando told him. "Yes," the man replied. "They have hard work in this area."

But the Afghan police didn't buy it. Hours later, they drove by the compound's ornate metal front door shouting "Taliban! Taliban!" to each other, knowingly.

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