Preface

"Addicted to dreams and visions," was how the nineteenth
century historians that rediscovered his work described
Geraldus Cambrensis, (Gerald de Barry), author of the
original twelfth century eyewitness accounts of the invasion
of Ireland. When my wife Liz and I set out to write a story
called The Voice ten years ago we never considered that the
devoutly religious Cambrensis or his mystical dreams had any
meaning to us.

We were budding, hard-edged truth seekers-the first
Americans to get a film crew into Soviet occupied Kabul
after the invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. Following the
events closely, we had seen through the veil of the greatest
CIA effort since Vietnam, arranged to fly into the heart of
the Evil Empire's war machine and returned with a story for
CBS News that was in stark contrast to the barrage of
reports we'd seen of the war.

Here was an impoverished nation struggling to survive its
own feudal past, crushed by the whims and ideals of two
imperial fathers, the U.S. and Soviet Union, bent on proving
their own righteousness. Ours was a complex and charged
story, so powerful Oliver Stone eventually optioned the film
rights.

But Afghanistan was always more than met the eye. Over
the years we watched with deep sadness at the endless
progression of the war, suspecting there were deeper reasons
for the countless failures to achieve a peace but always
finding them elusive. Meanwhile the war worsened, spreading
chaos to other countries in the region.