Deniable Agent: Undercover In Afghanistan
And so it would seem Jack Idema's tale pulls under the US government's heading of 'plausible deniability', with the release of this blockbuster book which is our version of it here in the UK. You wonder why it is that I am not inclined to be reticent with regard to what happened to Jack Idema and the other Americans who were just collataral damage to the Americans who wanted to destroy him? It's because his story is among those in a long line of men who stood to accomplish a mission at the behest of their country and were betrayed by the very entities that placed them there.This book gives us the big picture the media leaves out. This is what happened to many in Afghanistan who took this on and made the personal sacrifices to fight terrorism, regardless as to what country they called home. Is not only the American Government which betrayed our allies in the WoT, it is sadly also true of Tony Blair, Parliament and the M16.
Collin Berry's family thought he'd travelled to Afghanistan after the fall of the Taliban to market low-cost modular housing. The truth of the matter is stranger than fiction; because Berry is a former soldier who'd been recruited by British intelligence to buy back weapons systems from the Mujahideen during their struggle against the Soviets. Berry was involved in reconnaissance missions in remote mountain villages where he witnessed the ravages of decades of war. In Kabul, his attempts to train Afghan locals in the spirit of the M16 and international special forces came to an horrific end when the mission was compromised, many massacred before they could reach their target. Dissilusioned with the work he was doing and concerned for his life, Berry prepared to leave Afghanistan.
Whilst packing his bags, two armed Afghans arrived at his hotel room. A meeting was arranged. By the time it had finished both Afghans were dead and Berry himself was seriously wounded. In "The Deniable Agent", Colin Berry gives us a riveting insight into the covert world of intelligence. He also finally reveals the truth about what happened in the Intercontinental Hotel that night.
Days later in a dingy room he had electrodes attached to his feet. "Admit you're an American spy," snapped the sinister general interrogating him.
"I shouted ‘I'm not... F***!' The pain as the current went through me was excruciating," says Berry. His torture went on for six months during which he was caged in a dark 4ft by 8ft cell with an earth floor and no bed or toilet.
When he attacked an officer and tried to escape, he was kicked to a pulp by other guards and then whipped across the back with a metal cable.
"I don't know how long this beating went on, but I lost consciousness," says Berry. He was so badly beaten he ended up in hospital where, at last, British Embassy officials visited him.
A deal was done with the Afghanistan government and Berry was released. His role has never been acknowledged by MI6.
"I'm not James Bond, but I depended on the people I was working for to come and get me out before things got too bad," says Berry.
"They didn't. The missions were real—but the back-up wasn't. And I paid for it."
CHAPTER ONEDeniable Agent, published by Mainstream, can be ordered from the Mainstream Publishing for £17.99. Also available through Amazon.co.uk
A SOLDIER OF THE QUEEN
The first thing you need to know about me is that I'm not James Bond. I was a soldier for the best part of 12 years, I've worked in the public sector, and I've run my own businesses. While I've completed plenty of military courses in OP work (observation) and surveillance, I've never been trained as a spy or a secret agent. I got into that by accident, and I've had a lot of time since then to wish that I hadn't.
And part of the reason for that is that however bad things got for Bond, whether he was about to get his knackers lasered off or be thrown in a shark-filled pool, he knew that someone, somewhere, was looking out for him. In my case, by the time I found myself lying on the operating table in the War Victims Hospital in Kabul, with a surgeon who looked just like the Swedish chef from The Muppet Show scouring out the dead flesh from the bullet wound in my abdomen, I was pretty sure that the people who had got me into that situation weren't going to be crying too many tears of sorrow that it had happened.
At the end of the Bond films, more often than not, when Bond has emerged from the ruins of the villain's secret underground lair, battered but unbowed and clutching hold of the bikini-clad love interest, Felix Leiter and the CIA are there to whisk him away in a boat or helicopter - home in time for tea and medals.
Well, that didn't happen with me either. The American spooks who pulled me out of the hotel room could have taken me to the US Embassy, or to one of the ISAF compounds around Kabul, or even to Bagram Airbase. They knew me well enough: we'd been working together for months. But they didn't. They dumped me at the War Victims Hospital, where they knew the Afghan authorities could get hold of me. And they left me there.
Thanks a fucking bunch, guys. You must feel really proud of that one.
With thanks to Jo's Cafe, Cao's blog for their trackback parties.
posted by Causal Nexus @ 7:25 AM
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