Nick Paton Walsh comes under attack by RPGs in Afghanistan and explains why it’s like Brownian Motion.
Nick Paton Walsh is embedded with the US army in Afghanistan.
This is traditionally the bit where we get all excited.
Reporters, covering a war and all that, and narrowly missing death and other suchlike. “Oooh. My life flashed before my eyes”, etc. “Perhaps my number’s not up yet.” Blah.
Well, this is, as simply as possible, what happened on Saturday afternoon just after 2pm, as I was driving with the 82nd Airborne from their main base here in Argandab, to their smaller outpost called COP Winklemann.
It wasn’t exciting, but rather over fast and mildly jarring, simply because of how random and slight the factors were that meant we did not get badly hurt. I’ll tell you it straight, not to seem blaze or too cool for school (I am, though, wearing sunglasses indoors as I write), but to try and explain the mathematical fractions that govern things like this.
In front of me was Sergeant Best, bemoaning the poor quality of interpreters they get. That’s fair: some speak a form of English that might pass as fluency on dating websites hosted in Eastern Europe, but often doesn’t get the point across. And if the point is: “there are mines next to your foot”, or “thousands of Taliban are coming”, that might be irritating.
The Sergeant was in full swing and I was a little dehydrated and sleepy, so only half paying attention, and nodding vaguely.
Then there was a big whoosh – somewhere between a jet engine and a cheap firework – and a little smoke over my head. And the gunner above me shouted loudly. I can’t remember the expletive, but Jesus may have been involved. Then there was a bang over to my left. A rocket-propelled grenade (RPG) had just missed the vehicle we were in by about a foot.
The gunner was a little surprised, but remarkably together. He shouted a bit about how he could see them and then the Sergeant sat in front of me ordered him to fire. He shot 4 rounds from a 50 calibre machine gun. Just single shots, not an automatic burst – remember this is the new Soft and Gentle US Army, here to win over the population, not mistakenly kill it while defending themselves.
The rounds missed and the insurgent ran off. The gunner could see where he was running, but he was soon hidden by trees. He had been just ten metres away, and had missed what should have been an easy shot.
The unit didn’t have enough men to stop and hunt him down, so drove on.
I asked the Sergeant whether the vehicle we were in could take an RPG. There was some debate, as to whether a new MATV can withstand new grenades. He told me “We almost found out”. As it was aimed at our side of the vehicle, he was pretty sure we’d have heard it hit us.
That was basically it.
It is all enormously random. And at first confusing, then a little panicked, and then quite boring again. Had we been driving fractionally slower, or the insurgent been a little steadier, it could have ended differently.
But there is no “number” that’s up, or higher guiding logic to it all, I’m afraid. It’s Brownian Motion; the person you end up sitting next to on an airplane; the number of your passport.
That randomness could make it more terrifying, but, for me at least, it doesn’t.