And therein lies the rub. For this opaque yardstick for progress strains the delicate relationship between Britain's government, military and society. The campaign in Afghanistan cannot be long continued without the support of the British population. But, as Carleton-Smith noted, society and government hunger for absolutes, for operations like the Kajaki dam convoy. They are impatient at having their soldiery killed, far from home, for the less tangible "victories" symptomatic of success in war among the people. The current generation of soldiers are as questioning as the society from which they are recruited when it comes to judging the value of their own life against the demands made upon them in Afghanistan for this seemingly ethereal gain.

"Soldiers are an intrusive breed," said Captain Paul Martin, 1 Royal Irish, in Sangin last summer, on his second tour of Helmand. "They'll always ask questions - ‘Why are we doing this?'"

Two years ago, Martin's rangers were pulled out of Musa Qala despite having suffered heavy casualties defending it. He was himself wounded there and still has shrapnel near his heart and in one lung. The Taliban quickly reoccupied the town.

"Under my command there I lost four guys and seven injured," he reflected on the Musa Qala fight. "For the guys to have fought hammer, tooth and nail and at the end of it all to have found the bitterness that we'd handed it back... What was it all for?

"My age helps," he added, old at 30. "The men respond to me. But you are still a young commander, struggling to answer big questions."

Most of these questions will never have satisfactory answer beyond the old soldier's epithet "we're 'ere because we're 'ere because we're 'ere". Risk and bullshit were ever part of the deal. Stuck for answers, most commanders in Helmand use a contrived display of cold-bloodedness to inspire their troops in adversity. Borton emphasised the need to "wear command lightly".