A Frontline Memory: The Attack on the US Consulate in Herat

A Story from Hamid

In 2011, I was appointed as a policeman in the provincial command of Herat. One of my most important and most dangerous responsibilities was guarding the perimeter of the U.S. Consulate in Herat. Every moment on duty carried the scent of threat and death. Yet, with alert eyes and a heart full of duty, we stood our ground every day.

Under direct orders from the police command and the national security agency, we were stationed at outposts around the consulate. Every month, the U.S. Consulate paid hazard bonuses to soldiers like me, although not a large sum, it was a gesture of appreciation for our service. Still, what kept us going was never the money.

It was our conscience and our sense of responsibility.

Security threats were a constant part of our lives. From time to time, reports from the National Directorate of Security warned us that the Taliban were planning an attack on the consulate. Surveillance drones, operated directly by the U.S. Consulate, regularly flew over the area to monitor the security situation.

American soldiers, accompanied by trained bomb sniffing dogs and Afghan interpreters, would regularly visit our checkpoints. They treated us with respect and friendliness. We shared smiles, jokes, and mutual trust. We felt we were part of one team, united by a common mission.

But peace never lasts long.

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The US Consulate in Herat after the attack (Personal)

After two years of service, the threats grew more serious. Intelligence reports became increasingly alarming, though no one knew exactly when or how an attack might occur. We stopped going home. We remained on full alert, day and night.

Then came Friday, September 13, 2013, a day etched into my memory forever.

That morning, I was still inside the guard post when a powerful explosion shattered everything around me. Taliban militants carried out a suicide car bombing at the consulate's main gate. The blast threw me several meters across the room. I was disoriented, confused. My fellow officers helped me to my feet.

Afghan Policemen Carry the Wounded (Personal)

The air was filled with gunfire, screams, smoke, and flames.

Several security guards were killed. An innocent interpreter lost his life.
Homes nearby were destroyed. Mothers clutched their terrified children as debris and broken glass rained down.

The force of the blast was so powerful that windows shattered hundreds of meters away. Many civilians were injured by flying shards. Afghan police engaged the attackers.

U.S. military aircraft flew over the area, providing air support and tactical coverage. Two military helicopters landed inside the consulate compound. Shortly after, U.S. special forces and Italian rapid response units stationed in Herat arrived on the scene.

That day was not just an attack; it was an open wound. A wound of terrorism's betrayal, the pain of losing comrades, and the crushing feeling of being forgotten.

We stood for security, but today, many of us are invisible to the world.

Official casualty report from that day:

• 8 attackers killed

• 8 consulate guards and 1 Afghan police officer lost their lives

• More than 20 others were wounded.

I am just a soldier. Not a hero. Not a politician. Just someone who risked his life to protect a foreign nation’s consulate on the soil of his homeland.

And now, I raise my voice to the world so that we are not forgotten:

We were there. We stood. We burned. But we did not disappear.