A provincial reconstruction team (PRT) has landed in remote Barge Matal, and everyone – from the elders up the mountain trails to the girls who usually spend their days hidden from view – wants to make requests, lodge complaints, and generally be part of the action.

Born out of the mantra that the war in Afghanistan cannot be won by military means alone, the mission of these small units – 26 in total – is to coordinate with local leaders and do development work – thus winning Afghan hearts and minds.

It was not always like this. As the war here began in October 2001, there was much talk about the need for reconstruction. But a RAND Corp. study found that, even as President Bush was promising a "Marshall Plan" for Afghanistan, the country received less assistance per capita than postconflict Bosnia, Kosovo, or Haiti, and less than half of what later would be spent in Iraq.

Last year, though, the budget for reconstruction projects here tripled, USAID development experts were shipped out by the dozens, and the PRTs were given new status. The US has now spent more than $32 billion on assistance to Afghanistan – 32 percent of which was allocated to development and humanitarian assistance. That number, according to the US State Department, will continue to climb in 2009.

Today, it is easy to find Marines measuring footbridges, Air Force pilots negotiating with road contractors, Navy reservists debating the finer points of pouring concrete for school foundations, infantrymen immersed in solar-cooking projects, and field medics handing out packets of lozenges to curious villagers.

Moreover, explains John Espinoza, the State Department representative in Nuristan Province, there is simply more emphasis on such support. "While the amount of money committed to the effort is important, the impact of small, lower-cost community projects is also critical," he says. "Whether it's fresh water supplies, schools, clinics ... we are bringing immediate changes to Afghan communities. The long-term effects of that cannot be underestimated."

All this is being carried out amid ongoing fighting and a rising death toll. But while it is difficult to do effective development work without security, stresses Nuristan PRT commander George Perez – it's harder yet to attain security without offering development.

"Until we really have an impact here, in terms of healthcare, education, etc., Afghans will continue to suffer – and be amenable to ideological pressures of Al Qaeda," says Mr. Perez, a submarine officer. We need to give them a reason to be on our side."

Perez and others reject the argument that soldiers should stick to what they know best – fighting. "What does winning mean?" asks Col. Skip Davis, top strategic adviser to Gen. David McKiernan, who commands the approximately 70,000 US and coalition troops in Afghanistan. "Like in Iraq, our strategy must involve both fighting and building. We need to stay the course and be responsible for both."

Scarcity of just about everything

Nuristan, arguably the least developed province in Afghanistan, is home to the newest PRT, established two years ago. Electricity is scarce here, phone lines and hospitals nonexistent, and infant mortality is the highest in the country, with 1 in 4 children dying before age 5. Only a handful of roads are paved, and literacy is estimated at 25 percent (9 percent for women) – below the national average.

Barge Matal, set in the stark, snowcapped mountains of the Hindu Kush, is as far northeast as the PRT ventures. Monthly visits here need to be planned meticulously, requiring an airlift of the PRT and tight security. Insurgents regularly attempt to attack.

The Nuristan PRT has completed 31 projects at a cost of $12 million, and has contracted more than $60 million in roads. But little of that has reached Barge Matal.

Today, the plan is to offer a health clinic and meet with the shura, or council of elders, to determine priorities.

The heavily armed team arrives in Barge Matal on two helicopters in the early morning and immediately bumps into the shura – headed out of town. The elders, explains Mohammad Rasul, Barge Matal's deputy subgovernor – wrapped in a blanket, a wool hat pulled down snugly – are visiting a nearby village. They will be back in an hour. "No problem," says Perez, respectfully taking off his helmet.

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