(2 of 5)
Sadly, the guerrillas also fight vehemently among themselves. The Soviet invasion has sparked friction between ethnic Tajiks and ethnic Pushtuns and thrown gasoline on centuries-old feuds between Shi'ite Muslims and Sunni Muslims, and between pro-Iranian Shi'ites and independent Shi'ites. The guerrilla movement is thus fragmented into hundreds of units organized along village lines, each loosely affiliated with one of the six major resistance groups. Based in Pakistan, the leaders of most of those groups are quite unable to control events at the front. The divisions are so deep, moreover, that in the absence of a foreign enemy, Afghanistan might be plunged into civil war.
For the moment, the Soviet strategy has tipped the scales in Moscow's favor. Largely as a result of widespread devastation—which has brought high prices in the wake of shortages of labor, fuel, fertilizer and seed—Afghanistan's agriculture is fast deteriorating. According to one estimate, wheat production was five times greater in 1978 than it was last year. In the Logar province and in isolated villages around the country, entire settlements have been reduced to ghost towns.
One such tragedy took place in the medium-size farming community of Dasht-e-Rivat (pop. 1,800 in the past), many of whose inhabitants fled on the third day of bombing in April 1982. Scrambling up a goat path into the 14,000-ft. mountains along the southern edge of the Hindu Kush, the fugitives took nothing with them but thin clothing, a little bread and some dried mulberry flour. For 40 days they hid behind boulders and in mountain caves. Each night it snowed; each day they saw Soviet planes bomb and strafe the valley below. The fatalities included 40 adults and about 70 children—20 having died from the bombings and as many as 50 from the cold or hunger. Perhaps 1,200 refugees trekked for 27 days over seven high mountain ranges before reaching safety in a Pakistani refugee camp.
Some semblance of normal life has now returned to Dasht-e-Rivat. Farmers can be seen working the fields with wooden plows; young men mix straw and mud to patch bomb holes. One sagging roof is propped up by an unexploded Soviet bomb. But in villages like Jakdalag, 30 miles east of Kabul, the relentless assault upon civilians has taken its toll on the guerrillas. The deserted settlement is pockmarked with bomb craters and littered with spent shells, some measuring 10 ft. in length. Since bombs first began tearing the community apart three years ago, all its farmers and all but one of its 400 families have left. Rebels now sleep in blankets on the dirt floors amid mangled stoves and the carcasses of homes. They are forced to spend less time on training than on tending scant wheat crops or washing clothes. "I've told the freedom fighters to start cultivating and doing farm work," sighs Mohammed Anwar, while making bread. "But it is difficult when mujahedin must do this too."