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In war for Afghanistan, US troops do battle with flaky contractors

US forces in Afghanistan had begun to look like ATM machines as massive, poorly managed development projects bled money. Soldiers now oversee smaller ventures, even if it means personally counting pipes and demanding toilet flushers.

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“It was better when we just went straight to the Americans,” one elder said. “Our government is very corrupt.”

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Military officers and State Department officials here in Kunar Province say they expect complaints as Afghans adapt.

The strategy also puts more pressure on young soldiers to keep watch on bottom lines and on the Afghans who have become their partners.

Many soldiers say Afghans routinely ask for more money even after a contract has been signed, citing vague reasons that, to the soldiers’ minds, usually mean someone is skimming off the top. Afghans also make what appear to the Americans to be ridiculous demands, insisting on dozens of bags of cement, for example, for jobs the Americans say should only require a few.

For their part, Afghans sometimes complain the Americans don’t hire enough local laborers and instead choose corrupt contractors or those who are politically connected.

Soldiers admit that some of their misunderstandings are cultural – the result of a bad translation or local customs they don’t grasp. But some of the problems, they say, involve something closer to greed.

“These guys will go a long way to make you feel obligated,” Lt. John Cumbie says. “They’ll say ‘you promised us this or that,’ when we didn’t. It’s not too bad, but you really have to push back.”

‘Things need to get done’

On a cool afternoon in early January, Cumbie held a brief meeting with a contractor at a village in the Pech. He had come to pay the contractor a portion of his final installment for a well project. The sun was sinking below the mountains, evening cold settling over the mud-and-stone houses.

But Cumbie was waiting – he wanted witnesses before he handed over the cash. The more people who saw where the money went, he said, the less likely any of it would vanish. As he waited he counted a stack of metal pipes and noticed a difference in the number since his last visit. He asked where the missing ones had gone, and the contractor told him they'd been taken to the work site. Cumbie nodded.

When a village elder finally arrived, Cumbie fished a bag of cash out of his pocket. Young men and boys crowded around as he thumbed out 15,000 Afghanis, about $300.

He reminded the contractor that he had noticed a few things missing ¬– in this case concrete pads around the well heads.

Cumbie told the contractor he expected the pads finished before he would pay the rest of his fee. The contractor nodded, counted the stack of green-blue bills, then folded them away into his shirt.

Walking back to his armored truck, Cumbie said he felt good about the project; it was progress he could see, little by little. He said he didn’t mind checking wells and counting construction supplies, at least for now.

“I never expected to be doing this,” he says. “But I’ve learned a lot. You know, the Afghans just don’t know a lot about America, and they think money just grows on trees and that we can pay for anything. Well, we have to make them understand that money is scarce, and that things need to get done.”