Quotes of the Day

No one showed up for the start of official recruitment for Marjah's first local police force. No one showed up until the third — and last — day at a U.S. Marines base in North Marjah, the Afghan district invaded by American and Afghan military forces in February. Locals told the 3rd Division 6th Marines that they had reservations about joining the force — they were too scared of or too intimidated by the Taliban to risk allying themselves with foreign forces in a landscape that the Marines are still struggling to bring under control.

Set in the rural desert-farm country west of the Helmand River, Marjah is unremarkable but for its reputation as a major poppy-cultivation district and as the site of the February offensive by the Marines, the largest one by NATO in Afghanistan since the 2001 invasion. More recently, it has gained notoriety among the war's critics for the slow pace of achieving security here and for NATO Commander Stanley McChrystal's characterization of the area as a "bleeding ulcer," a remark reported by McClatchy Newspapers.

Indeed, Marjah's local government remains primitive at best. Firefights between the Marines and insurgents occur daily. And the 77-sq.-mi. (199 sq km) swath of territory in Helmand province wasn't even defined as a district until the Marines' push four months ago. The district governor is Haji Zahir, a man who Marines Commander Lieut. Colonel Brian Christmas says is making steady inroads with the local population but who other military and local sources allege is just another operator in a country already full of them.

Christmas acknowledges that in the long quest for Marjah's security, the Marines hold 80% of the solution. The other 20%, he says, is up to the local population, and the establishment of a local police force "could be that 20%." "The people have to be willing to sacrifice and be part of the solution," says Christmas. "In this case, the solution is the police force — guys who are from the town, who know the people and understand every road and which way it goes ... That's the future of security here."

On Sunday, the third and final day of police recruitment at Christmas' headquarters at Camp Hanson, the commander's efforts to spread the word finally paid off. Christmas had hoped for 80 recruits but had to settle for 11 — fresh-faced, mostly beardless and smiling. Some looked a little too young to be police officers, but all claimed to be old enough: 18 and up. More important, they had passed the initial screening; all said they were ready and willing to serve their country, had secured the signatures of two local elders to vouch for their credibility and had not been flagged by the Marines' computer database. "My relatives and friends left because there is no security here," says new recruit Saif Allah, 22. "I want to bring it back."

After a morning of paperwork and instructions, they were ready to make their way to Lashkar Gah to undergo a two-month training course, along with new recruits from other regions of the volatile province. If they make it to the end, the 11 will be the beginnings of Marjah's first local police force and potentially a key to alleviating Marjah's bleeding-ulcer status.

Captain Michael Vasquez, the Marine regiment's project manager for police recruitment, says a lot rides on the success of this first class. "The goal was set high, but like anything, it's going to be incremental," he says. "A lot of the elders want to see how it goes. So the fact that we have 11 is a major victory ... If everything goes well, you won't have 80 in the next class, you'll have 180."

The pressure is on. The Marines and the Afghan Interior Ministry have less than six months to assemble the troubled district's police force before losing the help of several hundred Afghan National Civil Order Police (ANCOP), whom the Afghan government sent to Marjah after the offensive. In November they'll move on to Kandahar to assist U.S. Army operations there. But a tenuous security situation and a persistent Taliban presence mean the Taliban still wield the power to intimidate Marjah's residents. And attacks across Afghanistan frequently target Afghan security forces. "A good portion of the Taliban are the locals. They've been fighting for 30 years," says Christmas. At this point, he adds, many of the local farmers remain on the fence, waiting to see which group controls the area before they decide whether to side with the Marines or the Taliban. "Everyone wants to join the police, but the problem is that the Taliban are one kilometer from here, and they will create problems for us," explains a villager not far from the Marines' base.

All but three of the new recruits say they're from the Ishaqzai tribe in northern Helmand, which has typically been pro-Taliban. On the one hand, their inclusion in the new force could factor strategically into the Marines' efforts, providing much-needed employment to a group that has long complained of marginalization and whose disenchantment has helped fuel the insurgency. On the other hand, the tribe's Taliban connections could be a liability. But Vasquez doesn't believe they will be a problem. Each recruit has the official backing of a tribal elder, a mechanism based on custom and accountability that he says will counter any possible Taliban allegiances. And the promised salary — 12,000 Afghanis a month (roughly $240), compared with the 9,000 Afghanis earned by police in other provinces, should add an additional incentive to do good work.

"I'm more concerned that they're going to get halfway through training and then there's going to be a problem back home that pulls their attention back here," says Vasquez. "Someone could be trying to intimidate their family. And we have a lot of guys who, for whatever reason, start the training and then something happens back home and they disappear."

The new force will also face the obstacle of overcoming a dismal police legacy. For years, rampant abuses by Afghan police in Helmand have fueled support for the Taliban and undermined efforts to build local governance. "There is a district governor and there are police here," says Mullah Musa Mohammed, a Marjah elder who attended a recent shura, or gathering of elders in the district center. "The problem is, they do not work well."

A month ago, Marines based at the Marjah district center discovered that the ANCOP forces stationed at their base were scamming Afghan civilians as they entered and left the base to pick up money for war-damage claims. They would charge people a fee to enter and then solicit a bribe from the damage money when they left, a Marine explained on condition of anonymity. Eventually, the Marines had to reposition themselves to monitor the police. "ANCOP take our supplies. We give them rations and they take them down to the bazaar and sell them. It's unbelievable," he added. "They go down the bazaar and shake people down because they have the authority ... The local nationals are scared to come to ANCOP, so they come to us — the Marines."

The pressure is also riding on Marjah's new recruits. "The next class is June 30, so we'll see how it goes," says Vasquez. "Everyone is going to be watching these 11." That afternoon, Vasquez and his team ushered the new recruits into the Marines' armored vehicles to transport them to Marjah's district center, en route to their training course in Lashkar Gah. As the truck door shut, Vasquez joked to his team, "Hurry! Seal them up before they change their minds!"

• Abigail Hauslohner / Marjah