Life in Helmand, Where Rich Rewards Are Reaped By Poppy Farmers, Police and the Taliban

The frontline defence of Lashkar Gah is a two-room mud hut beside a bridge over the river that snakes around the town. Here the Afghan police commander squats on a barrier and describes the latest Taliban onslaught. "They attacked at night," he says. "We fought back and then helicopters came and fired at them." He moves his hand in a sweeping semi-circle and explains that the land all around is held by the Taliban.

But for the commander and his men standing around him in shalwar kameez and glittering caps, their main concern was not the threat from the Taliban, but the low price of opium. Like most of the people in this the capital of Helmand province, they were all poppy farmers.

"The people are not planting teryaq (opium) because they don't have water; they use the little water they can get to plant something they can eat," says one policeman. "I have eight jeribs (approximately four acres) but this year I didn't plant any opium."

The commander chimes in: "The government is not helping us. Only the rich people get the money. If you want the help of government, you need money, good car and influential friends." He says he had planted opium on half his land. "Inshallah (God willing) the rain will be better this year."

In the middle of the road from Kandahar to Helmand stood a lone gunman in a white turban and a long coat, his gun flickering with the early morning sun.

The driver of our decrepit Toyota taxi slowed almost to a halt, stretched his hand out and put 10 afghani (about £1.50) into the hand of the gunman. "Police," explains the cabbie, matter of factly. On the side of the road another policeman sits on a blanket drinking tea. The Taliban, bandits and police all make their own contribution to the lawlessness of the Kandahar highway.

As we left Kandahar, we started counting the holes caused by "improvised explosive devices", 15 miles and 18 holes later, we stopped counting. Sometimes the craters were barely 100 meters from each other. Trucks and taxis drove fanatically, trying to cover the perilous road as fast as possible. They zigzagged wildly between the road and the dirt to avoid the holes.

We passed two more police checkpoints, each exacting their own tax. Lashkar Gah - literally "the camp of the soldiers" - declared itself with a herd of camels and two British army Land Rovers marking a checkpoint.

About 15 miles south-east of Camp Bastion, the British army's desert compound, Lashkar Gah has the feel of a besieged frontier town. Twice in recent months the Taliban has tried to take the city. On each occasion it was repelled. Last week, military sources admitted that deaths and serious injuries among British troops in Helmand were running at a higher rate than at any time since the start of the conflict in 2001. Eleven British soldiers have been killed in southern Afganistan since the beginning of last month.