Many Americans have died in these vineyards.  Canadian blood has
fertilized this ground, and we kill Taliban in these fields daily.  We
watch them through UAVs, such as Predators, as they hide their weapons
among the rows, or attack us, and often they move undetected.  When the
Russians came through this area, the Afghans said they would hide under
the vines until the enemy was very close, and shoot them point blank.  
After all, many of the local kids grew up right here, picking grapes and
playing in the vineyards.  They know every bump and divot.  The rows
are not made of wire or wood as in the United States or Europe. The rows
are mounds of packed mud that can stop 30mm cannon fire.  The enemy
plants bombs along the rows and paths, and so our troops often cross
perpendicular across the grape rows which sometimes are over chest
high.  Even without the heavy gear, the obstacle course is grueling and
sometimes we take fire, or someone gets blown to pieces.  The
out-of-town enemies also don’t know where the bombs are hidden and so
they often are killed.  Every day we hear detonations that remain
unexplained.  Could have been anything.  Normally we know the causes,
but many will never be known to us.  I’ve probably never written a full
dispatch in this tent without hearing an explosion. Sometimes it’s a
distant rumble and you only hear it.  Other times the shockwave pops the
tent walls and your body feels it.  We usually hear many each day.  
Fighter jets are roaring overhead as this sentence is formed.