(Day 2 of a four-day Stars and Stripes series, "Afghanistan: Silent Warriors.")

FIREBASE PURGATORY, Afghanistan — At dusk on Feb. 20, a soldier rushed in to the tactical action center with news that Afghan militia soldiers were at the gate, reporting hundreds of al-Qaida members gathering just northwest of Firebase Purgatory.

“Again?” said Sgt. Joe Morris, the base interrogator for the 2nd Battalion, 22nd Infantry Regiment, 10th Mountain Division. Morris shrugged and told anyone in earshot to wake him up when the enemy gets within 200 meters of the concertina, and then he’ll worry about it.

But the chances of company-size al-Qaida forces storming the razor wire are as likely as getting a shower at this comfortless outpost.

If it were only that simple, said Morris and others. The war against the original bad guys — al-Qaida and the Taliban — “is a process,” said 1st Lt. David Hawk, executive officer for 2-22nd (known as the Triple Deuce) Headquarters, Headquarters Company.

Purgatory, about 60 miles southeast of Kandahar, is first and foremost a firebase. Its presence is meant to tell the locals in this former Taliban stronghold that there’s a new sheriff in town — one that requires its soldiers to have a variety of skills to tackle missions that change as quickly as the weather at 10,000 feet. Like many of the thousands of soldiers in Afghanistan, these soldiers have to try to keep a volatile area as stable as possible, all the while preparing for the worst. They fight the enemy when needed and try to build confidence in others living there.

When things go wrong, and they do, the base’s 120 mm mortars fire illumination and high-explosive rounds all night.

During its first two months, Purgatory has been attacked twice with rockets. No one was hurt in either attack, though the first rocket exploded 110 feet away from the base.

There are attacks, but the trend is toward stabilization.

“Trying to give the Afghanis a shot at hope” is the goal, said Capt. Joel Cunningham, Purgatory’s officer in charge of maneuver elements.

When the 10th Mountain Division first arrived in Afghanistan eight months ago, the command stressed every patrol was a combat patrol, Hawk said. Just a few weeks ago, the brigade commander, Col. William Garrett III, started using peacekeeping terms.

“I about died when he used the term ‘presence patrol,’” Hawk said.

Two years and four months after the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attacks, stabilizing areas far from the capital of Kabul is one of the most complicated jobs in the world.

“This could go from zero to 60 in one minute,” said Capt. Phil Bergeron, fire control officer.

In fact, it never feels like anything less than a race as teams of mismatched units — infantry, anti-aircraft artillery, anti-tank and scouts — work around the clock doing every sort of mission, often several missions in one.

On Feb. 18, Triple Deuce soldiers worked a stretch of Highway 1 about 20 miles north of Purgatory. On one side, they stopped and searched mini-buses, working tips that Taliban were trying to infiltrate using public transportation, said 1st Lt. Kenneth Collins. On the other side, Hawk and his driver, Sgt. Chris Tuccio, handed out soccer balls, caps and donated clothing to children from nearby villages.

It was routine, yet highly entertaining.

As he handed out the balls, Tuccio had each recipient say, “I am Tiger Woods,” a la the Nike commercial.

A few yards away, soldiers from the 10th Mountain’s 3rd Battalion, 62nd Antiaircraft Artillery Regiment searched bus passengers. Sgt. Lenny Marshall worked with Staff Sgt. Nelson Miranda, telling the men “Take all control from the tower,” pointing to Miranda, who did “arms-extended” and “turn around” pantomimes.

“It’s amazing how much stuff they keep on them,” Marshall said as Afghan men silently emptied out their outfits. Out poured soap, food, sunflower seeds, screws and small knives. Even a bicycle light.

“One dude had four or five big wads of money,” said Pfc. Billy West.

Sgt. 1st Class Ron Brown summoned Collins to check out a guy carrying a bag stuffed with 40 cameras. But Collins let him go — just another guy dragging merchandise from bazaar to bazaar.

At the end of two hours in the sun, the soldiers have little to show for their work. And as the sun starts to set, they know their day is really just beginning. After eight months, they have no illusions.

“Every single person in the country is looking at you saying, ‘How can I make money off this guy?’” Hawk said. Yet, Hawk acknowledges that every generalization here has an exception.

Not too long ago, a man tipped soldiers to an arms cache, he said.

“We’re trying to pay him. The guy doesn’t want it,” Hawk said. The Taliban had hurt children in the village “and he’s so pissed off he says, ‘Don’t pay me. [It] would be wrong to pay me.’ It blew my mind.”

Even though Hawk has a healthy skepticism, he sees tangible signs of progress, including increasing support for the central government and even Highway 1 itself.

“Do I feel like we accomplished something? Of course. It used to take four, five or six days to reach Kabul. Now, with the new highway, it takes eight hours,” he said.

If Afghanistan has a prayer, Hawk said, it’s with the kids. Most adults, even young adults, have their minds made up one way or the other.

“If we get to the children and prove to them Americans are not the evil devil” in 20 years, they’ll be terror-proof, Hawk said.

Three days later, someone fires a rocket at Purgatory — the evening after Hawk and his men were playing soccer with the village children.

“We’re handing out soccer balls in the afternoon, and we got rocketed that night,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Does that mean success? That anti-U.S. forces are scared of Purgatory? Or Purgatory is failing to bring stability? Who knows, say soldiers and officers.

There is a certain frustration with what his soldiers perceive as a lack of tangible results, Cunningham said. The reality is, the area around Qalaat has gone from Taliban operating openly to near stability, he said.

“They don’t see things that way. It’s a lot easier to say, ‘12 dead, four captured,’” Cunningham said. “But if that’s what you want, you’ve missed the point.”