Into the Land of Bones. Frank L. Holt
and were as valid in the time of Alexander (and earlier) as in that of Queen Victoria.”52 Alexander therefore drew a timeless map of the region, both politically and militantly, which still can be recognized spread across planning tables in modern military headquarters. But that is only the beginning. Alexander’s reputation as a military genius, though richly deserved, cannot mask some of the miscalculations he pioneered in Bactria. He led his men into a war whose mission necessarily evolved. This often confused his troops and contributed to great disappointments. Morale suffered as men realized that they had been given false expectations about the nature of the resistance and the timetable for their return home to their families. In Bactria, allies and enemies were often indistinguishable until it was too late. Alexander’s soldiers had been trained to wage and win major battles, but the king now shifted them into new and uncomfortable roles: they juggled awkwardly the jobs of conqueror, peacekeeper, builder, and settler. One minute they were asked to kill with ruthless and indiscriminate intensity, the next they were expected to show deference to the survivors. Enemies might suddenly become allies and exercise authority over Macedonians and Greeks. Some of Darius’s generals and satraps (governors) regained power as Alexander’s appointees. Alexander was the first ruler to underestimate the deleterious effect of such a conflict on his armed forces.
Third, let us not forget that Afghanistan has always been an inherently unstable territory. Even now, it barely qualifies to be called a nation in any conventional sense. Sure, it has (at times) a figurehead leader, flag, currency, and provisional constitution, but its traditions of local independence overwhelm all grander political notions. After all, Afghanistan is a collection of peoples who speak three times more languages (over thirty) than there are paved airfields (ten) in an area the size of England and France. It is an impoverished land with little to lose by resisting foreign intruders. Only 12 percent of the land is arable, and even then its main crop, opium, is illegal. Most of the population lacks access to safe water and sufficient food. Malnutrition has been a constant. About a quarter of the population has malaria, and perhaps half suffer from tuberculosis. The life expectancy for Afghans remains less than forty-five years. Poor but proud and defiant, the people there are not intimidated easily. The vaunted power of the West has little leverage beyond the immediate range of its weapons.53
In Afghanistan, a little rebellion always goes a long way. A force composed of a mere 10 percent of the population can use the rugged terrain and hostile climate very effectively against larger, better-armed forces. And that insurgent 10 percent, forever present, can swell in an instant to 90 percent or more. Nor can the populace be cowed by capturing its heartland. Afghanistan has no center to speak of, and no clear edges. Afghanistan’s few large cities all perch on its periphery: Mazar-i-Sharif in the north, Herat in the west, Kandahar in the south, and Kabul in the east. They all lie nearer to other nations than to each other. Indeed, many segments of the population feel a closer kinship to ethnic groups outside Afghanistan than to compatriots within. The borders are nominal, not natural. They are porous to such a degree that rebels can easily drift across and regroup among friendly brethren. Under these conditions, whether cities fall or not, an invader can never really know who is winning the war.
That explains why we stand today (albeit for different reasons) where the Soviets did in 1980, the British in 1879 and 1839, and even the Greeks and Macedonians in 329 B.C.E. To see our way forward, we must first take a long look back. For recent history, that task is relatively simple. Accounts of the British and Soviet experience in Afghanistan are numerous, and some analysts have made good use of them. Unheroized historical studies of Alexander’s invasion are considerably rarer, though no less vital. The events of 9–11 and their aftermath have given new urgency to that research, and this book is one result. The following pages provide a fresh look into Alexander’s invasion; this book is written for those who seek a millennial perspective on one of the defining conflicts of our time.
CHAPTER TWO
Hunting the Enemy
CITY OF BONES
In the spring of 329 B.C.E., at the age of twenty-six, Alexander set up camp in a city rumored to be the oldest in the world. Zariaspa lay beside the Bactrus River and served as the administrative capital of Bactria, an old province of the Persian Empire; for these reasons, the city itself was generally referred to simply as Bactra (without an i). Today the site, called Balkh, is a sprawling ruin in northern Afghanistan with miles of crumbling walls enclosing a small village in a dusty tract.1 In Islamic tradition, old Noah himself founded this city after floating through the Great Flood. Thousands of years later, Balkh was still “a splendid city of great size” (though already declining) when Marco Polo passed by in the thirteenth century C.E.2 Gradually, its population shifted fourteen miles eastward to Mazar-i-Sharif, particularly after the establishment there of the popular shrine of Hazrat ‘Ali, son-in-law of Muhammad, in 1481.3 It was at Mazar-i-Sharif that the United States and its allies won their first victory in Afghanistan (with the cavalry charge mentioned in chapter 1), and at the tomb of ‘Ali that large crowds celebrated the event.4 Ironically, many Muslims revere an alternate burial place for this same ‘Ali, a rival shrine located at Najaf in Iraq—the scene of so much strife in an even more recent war.5
Neither Najaf nor Mazar-i-Sharif existed as cities in the fourth century B.C.E. When Alexander rode by on his way from Babylon to Bactra, Islam had not yet redrawn the maps of ancient empires. Zoroastrianism prevailed in much of the Persian realm conquered by Alexander, and Bactra was the holy city of its prophet.6 A famous golden shrine of Anahita, worshiped by Zoroastrians as a goddess of fertility and purifying waters, still stood astride the Bactrus River when the Greeks and Macedonians arrived.7 In later legends, Anahita would become the wife of Alexander and use her powers to help her husband win his wars.8 In reality, the only thing her cult could do for the king was to preside over the nourishing waters that refreshed his troops in this arid land. The Bactrus River, and the dozens of irrigation canals drawing from its stream, gave life to a land otherwise parched by encroaching sand dunes, dust storms, and daytime temperatures simmering above 110°F.
Inside the city, the sparkling oasis turned ugly. Decaying bodies and bleached human bones lay scattered in the streets. One of Alexander’s men reported seeing packs of dogs gnawing at the dead, while a few stalked and snapped at fresher meals still alive but helpless against the hounds.9 The outraged Greeks shuddered as they witnessed this alien spectacle. It was not, of course, the ordinary sight or smell of death that unsettled these veterans of Alexander’s wars. They had made careers of wading through blood pooled deep in captured cities and bodies piled high on battlefields. They had massacred entire populations when so ordered, or when the rush of victory carried them too far to stop. They had certainly witnessed on many occasions the glut of dogs and carrion birds on the dead and dying of war.
Bactra was different. Alexander’s army had not stormed its gates or scaled its walls. The dogs inside were not growling over the bones of battle casualties. The thing that so shocked the Greeks and Macedonians was that they had entered, unopposed, a city quite alive with normal trade and human traffic, its people going about their daily affairs with a wary eye on the newcomers but not the slightest regard for the carnage around them. As part of their religion, the Bactrians literally tossed their dead to the dogs and even hastened the process by letting these hounds execute their old, sick, and invalid citizens. No one intervened. In fact, the dogs were kept for just this purpose. In their own language, the locals called their hounds something like Devourers or Undertakers and let them do a dirty but sacred job that in Greece would be the work of a tomb or funeral pyre. Alexander and his troops denounced the use of Devourer dogs as a barbaric custom, whereas the Bactrians in turn could not believe that anyone would be so depraved as to set a dead person afire. Alexander had cremated his father back in Macedonia; no one in Bactria could imagine such a sacrilege. What were the two cultures to do, now that fate had thrown them together? How should the living henceforth treat their dead, now that one of the world’s youngest conquerors had arrived in one of the world’s oldest cities?
To Alexander’s credit, his policy was generally to respect local customs and religions. This had been true in Egypt, where the king paid homage to the bewildering beliefs of that exotic civilization. Indeed, Alexander would in time be mummified