At first glance, the Pashtun village of Gourogan had the charm of a hamlet in Mexico or Spain - a hard-packed path too narrow for cars twisting uphill between tall stone walls, a few donkeys trudging along, a farmer or two in the fields, arbors of green grapes and small copses of fig trees baking under the scorching sun. Cpl. Ben Woodhouse wasn't fooled twice, though. Yesterday he had turned a corner in just such a tranquil setting and bumped smack into an equally surprised Talib clutching an AK automatic rifle. Woody and the bearded Pashtun both jumped back, shooting harmlessly at each other. The Talib leaped over a small wall and ran at sprinter's speed, leaving behind a corporal who turned each corner in Gourogan with his rifle ready to fire.
- From The Wrong War: Grit, Strategy, and the Way Out of Afghanistan by Bing West
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