Over the weekend that I read this book, three more British troops lost their lives in Afghanistan, a timely reminder that the job of a British soldier today is far more dangerous than it has been for ­decades. A new recruit is almost certain to see action in Afghanistan — a spell in “Afghan”, as it’s known in army ranks.

For all the sacrifice — 161 ­soldiers have lost their lives so far — it is not clear what is being achieved. Civilian casualties have spiralled, the Taliban has edged closer to Kabul, opium production has increased, and I doubt anyone outside Whitehall really thinks the streets of London are safer because our forces are fighting bearded men with turbans whose main aim is to turn Afghanistan into an Islamic caliphate.

Already more than 40,000 British servicemen and women have been through Afghanistan — a third of Britain’s ground forces. Some have been twice, among them 3 Para, who were in the first deployment in 2006. Then, they were taken by surprise by the ferocity of the insurgents they encountered and stretched to breaking point by a misguided policy of sending troops to remote outposts for which the mission is still paying the price. Patrick Bishop’s breathless, bestselling Boy’s Own account of those six months, 3 Para, spawned a number of inferior spin-offs. The last time I was in Helmand, in September 2008, almost every regiment seemed to have a journalist attached, trying to cash in.

It is not surprising then that when 3 Para went back last year, Bishop accompanied them, but they were a very different group. Not only did they have a new commander but, this time round, they knew what they were in for. Of the 600 who went first time, 400 came back. Some had found incredible depths of courage, such as Corporal Stuart Hale who had his right foot blown off by a landmine in September 2006, and saw a colleague, Corporal Mark Wright, killed and others injured trying to rescue him. He had gone through months of pain and hallucinations to be back in Helmand with an artificial leg.

The main change on the battlefield was the Taliban’s use of improvised explosive devices and suicide bombs. On the British side, they were far better equipped and troop numbers had more than doubled from 3,600 to 8,000.

But it was still nowhere near enough and they still had the same eight Chinook helicopters, meaning more travel on the ever more ­hazardous roads.

Missing in Bishop’s first book among all the derring-do was any analysis, or reference to the Afghans who actually live in Helmand. This time round he tries to amend this, explaining how the same Afghan authorities that British troops are trying to bolster often turn out to be the biggest problem. He tells the sobering story of Haji Zaifullah, the district chief of ­Maywand, who eradicates poppy fields to protect his own, and who sells sand to the Paras at inflated prices so they can fill “Hesco” barriers (blast walls) to build the base to protect him.

While few Afghans want a return to the Taliban, Bishop observes that many prefer them to the local police — who demand bribes, are often drug addicts and have a weakness for young boys.

Whereas Bishop’s first account was very black and white, this time round he tries to capture the nuances that make the conflict so little understood by policymakers back home. However, he makes the same mistake as they do by referring to everything as Taliban, when much of the fighting is among tribes, criminal gangs or others. He wron­gly attributes to the Taliban the ambush that killed French soldiers near Kabul (it was actually carried out by Gulbuddin Hekmatyar). He also talks of the Taliban currently fighting in Pakistan’s Swat valley as if they were part of the same organisation.

Annoyingly, he also falls for the Ministry of Defence hype surrounding the Kajaki turbine — described as the biggest military operation since the crossing of the Rhine in the second world war. It was undoubtedly a great feat to transport 220 tonnes of turbine and other equipment, worth millions of pounds, across 100 miles of Taliban territory to the Kajaki dam. But surely, one has to ask, what was the point when there are no power lines to transport electricity and when the Taliban control the sub-stations and all the billing for any electricity produced?

This book is likely to confirm people’s suspicions about the war rather than reveal anything new. Although Bishop talks up the soldiers who have been so generous with their opinions and whose professionalism and bravery are never in doubt, the reader can’t help but be left with the dispiriting feeling that the situation is reversing. For me, the most telling moment in this book is when Bishop describes the reservist who leaves the comfort of life as a corporate lawyer in Edinburgh for a second six-month tour. Highly commendable, you might think; yet he pretends to friends and colleagues that he is on attachment to a bank, because he no longer knows how to justify the war.

Ground Truth by Patrick Bishop
Harper Collins £18.99 pp324

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