The 1978 Revolution in Afghanistan.

• Author: Thompson, Larry Clinton
• Position: Travel narrative

April 27, 1978 was a pleasant, sunny day in Kabul. It was Thursday. I worked at the American embassy and, in harmony with Islamic custom, our "weekends" were Thursday and Friday. I went horseback riding that morning. It was spring. The valleys were emerald green and dotted with orange-blooming pomegranate trees. Driving home at noon, I noticed nothing amiss.

Afghanistan was the most wildly fascinating and exotic country in the world. Cars and buses shared the roads with camel caravans and herds of sheep and goats. Nomad tents dotted the valleys. Carpets, textiles, and exotic antiques attracted shoppers. The transitory hippie population--we called them "world travelers," WTs for short--smuggled drugs and smoked hashish.

The 20th century occasionally intruded. The first television station had begun broadcasting a few months earlier. To make an international telephone call, you went to the telephone company office, paid in advance, and waited, often a good while, until an operator managed to connect you.

Afghans were mostly friendly to Americans and other foreigners--although it was rare to break through superficial hospitality to enjoy a close relationship. You might know a man for years but never meet his wife. Women were only rarely seen on the streets and almost all wore a chadri, the long, pleated, garment that covered them from the top of their head to their ankles. Occasionally you would see stylish shoes and a nicely shaped calf merging from the folds of the chadri, now more often called a "burka." A woman's place was in the home. Men even did most of the shopping. The literacy rate for women was one percent; for men it was about 20 percent. Foreign women were exempt from wearing the chadri, but were occasionally jostled on the streets by offended Afghan men.

The United States and the Soviet Union had competed for influence in Afghanistan since the beginning of the Cold War. The Soviets were dominant and especially influential in the Afghan army. The United States, though a distant second, had sizeable aid and cultural programs in Afghanistan. The United Kingdom had the most beautiful embassy in Kabul--a legacy of one of the several British invasions of the country during the Raj.

Several Peace Corps Volunteers were at my house when I got home that day. We had a baseball game scheduled that afternoon. I played center field on the embassy team. My wife, Kay, the Peace Corps medical officer, had invited the Peace Corps team to assemble at our house. We had two children. Chuck, our ten-year old son, was home; our thirteen-year old daughter Amy was attending an event at the International School on the other side of the city.

"Something funny is going on," one of the volunteers said.

"What?" I was immediately interested. Several recent events had made me believe that the autocratic government of Mohammad Daoud was losing its grip.

"I rode my bicycle by the Ministry of Defense," he answered. "There's smoke there and a lot of soldiers around."

"Let's go take a look," I said. Several volunteers and I piled into my old Land Rover and we headed for the Defense Ministry about a mile away. We got only as...