Afghanistan isn't a country so much as it is a dust bowl littered with mountains that decided that it wanted to sit ridiculously high. It's inhabitants have always been at war and fill find some reason to fight, and will fight just because they can if they don't have a reason. The only thing that they can agree on is that the bloodshed will not end, and if anyone from the outside comes, then they'll gang up on them until they leave.
The Afghanis will use anything then can. It was them who invented the practice of using antitank weapons to shoot down helicopters. If it fires and kills people, then they'll take it. I bet the next guys to invade will tell tales of Afghanis running around with old American M4's.
As one of our own members on THR has shown, they will use anything they can get their hands on. Here's a picture of him holding a Shpagin
If anyone could refresh my memory as to who he is, I would be thankful.
And the Soviets had the same grief with Afghanistan.
Pesni: Afganskie Pesni - Preishel Prikaz
Song: Afghan Song - The Order Came
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlERM1UiZqQ
Translation (admittedly awful; my Russian is still extremely elementary)
The order came, and so we get up,
We sat at night on the plane with our AKM's
At that early hour, when the land around was asleep,
In Afghanistan, the thing will start
Afghanistan is a beautiful mountainous, wild land,
The order a simple: get up, go, and die,
But how is it, so we go
My heart hurts from the sorrows of memory.
My friend fell with red blood coming from his face
He died far from home
Looked to the blue skies,
And whispered, our bloody Afghanistan.
Afghanistan is a beautiful mountainous, wild land,
Orders are simple: get up, go, and die,
But how is it, so we go
My heart hurts from the sorrows of memory.
Afghanistan rumbles like a machine gun,
Afghanistan yesterday killed the boys squad,
Their commander, when he snow fell,
whispered, "dear mother" before he died.
He who went through fire and through death,
Came home, he is met by his mother, father,
He recalls lost friends,
Still whispering, that he survived.
Afghanistan, cursed mountains, wild lands,
Orders are simple: get up, go, and die,
But how is it, so we go
My heart hurts from the sorrows of memory.
Afghanistan, cursed mountains, wild lands,
Orders are simple: get up, go, and die,
But how is it, so we go
My heart hurts from the sorrows of memory.