I See Non-locals

I saw people who weren’t Afghans today, while we made our rounds. Not sure where they were from, spoke a language as hard on the ears as Dutch or Afrikaans, but looked Chinese. Fortunately, I look and act like a local. I’m feeling for these people too. We crossed into Iran and came back to Afghanistan. The situation is dire and the leader of the cell is a hunted man. God willing, I’ll make it to my next assignment, none the worse for wear. Any of me mates back in Blighty reading this, I’m alive and well. You’ll have to take my word for it though, as I don’t have a camera — we Afghans are a primitive lot. Instead of the Tube, we have two-dumped camels. Will try to write more later. Almost 43 C now.



Perhaps, I should begin by introducing what this is and what it’s not. The Official Secrets Act is a law in Great Britain which governs the release of information Her Majesty’s government deems sensitive. As I’m a field operative of said government, I am subject to it. Because I am aware that titling a blog “in Violation of the Official Secrets Act” is indeed, inflammatory, I cleared this with my superior in London. Some ground rules then:

  • All names used in this blog are false.
  • Likewise, I can’t reveal any operational details.
  • That said, as I fancy myself a bit of a writer, I will try to make my life sound as exciting as I can.
  • Comments may be left, but I won’t be able to respond to many of them.
  • As I’m in the field, I can’t post on a regular basis.