Ducking bullets at the airport... bleeding and terrified... my horror attempt to flee Taliban: An electrifying dispatch from lawless Kabul - by a hero translator denied sanctuary in Britain

It was midnight, at the end of a dreadful day. I had dodged my way along back roads, then main roads, trying to avoid Taliban checkpoints in a desperate bid to reach Kabul airport to try and find any information about flights to the UK.

The two-hour journey had been a mistake. Not only did I have to run the gauntlet of triumphant, often aggressive, Taliban fighters as they randomly searched vehicles and fearful passengers – pedestrians, too – but when I arrived I had become caught up in the chaos at Kabul international airport.

Hundreds of my fellow countrymen, young and old, were seeking information on how to escape our homeland. It was brutally hot and everyone was nervous. We felt the eyes of men who had been our enemy staring into us with the cold eyes of a victor.

At each gate to the airport – there were five in all – I had asked for the British. I had spent six years working with them as their interpreter, but the unsmiling Turkish guards would let no one through. We were left in a dangerous no-man’s land of about 100 metres with Taliban on one side, walls topped with razor wire on the other.

Loyal service: Latif Hottak (pictured right), who has spent six years working with the British Army as their interpreter, and another translator in Helmand in 2008

I was desperate. I was a potential Taliban target because of my years of work for British soldiers. But also because, over many years, the UK Government had repeatedly and unjustly refused me relocation – a chance to escape and build a new life for my family.

One wall was slightly lower than the rest, maybe about two metres high. I decided to try and scale it so I would drop down into the comparative safety of the airport.

As I clambered up the wall, there was a burst of gunfire, followed by another. It was into the air but none of us knew that and panic set in as we scrambled first for safety, then threw ourselves back to the tarmac outside the airport.

It was something I had done many times in the dirt and maize fields of Helmand while on foot patrol with brave British soldiers when the Taliban had opened fire. Then, it had not been in the air.

This time, there were three more bursts, then silence and barked orders from the Taliban to leave. I felt my legs and blood was gushing from cuts. But in the panic I had not noticed the pain.

The journey home on foot in the twilight of the evening was slow – each step agonising. I kept my head low and tried not to limp, merging into groups of other Afghans.

When I eventually arrived home at the darkened basement that has been our home for three years, I sat on the rugs covering the floor which are also our beds. I was exhausted and depressed.

My wife Ruqia is a nurse and gently dabbed my wounds with a cold cloth while I told my four children what had happened. The story had no happy ending. There was to be no airport escape.

So when the phone rang on the corner table, I could hardly be bothered to answer. It was my brother Rafi, also an ex-translator, who calls most nights from the UK to check on us. With the Taliban having arrived in the city 24 hours earlier, he, like us, was extremely worried. There were reports of fighters conducting house-to-house searches looking for those who worked for foreign forces.

Rafi and I had been interpreters together. We had joined at the same time in 2006 and taken the same risks on the frontline. He was blown-up by an IED in Helmand, a blast that killed a British officer. Rafi had been saved by doctors at Camp Bastion.

I am approved at last – but will the call ever come for the flight? Will the airport still be open? writes Latif Hottak (pictured: British citizens and dual nationals residing in Afghanistan board a military plane for evacuation from Kabul airport)

When he recovered, we took on a new role together working with UK Special Forces. That was until the death threats became too much and he escaped with people traffickers to the UK. After a fight, he was granted asylum.

He called me regularly. Together with the Daily Mail, he had been battling to overturn my case so we could be a family again in the UK. In truth, I was jealous of his life of safety and freedom, a life that seemed unobtainable – especially with the Taliban on the streets.

But this call was different. Rafi was not his normal self. He was excited and the words I had longed to hear tumbled out quickly.

They were beautiful, magical and I couldn’t believe them. My case had been granted. I screamed, my wife screamed and my four children screamed.

Rafi waited and allowed us an unforgettable moment of joy, of relief. He then read out the email sent to him by the Ministry of Defence. A massive burden had been lifted.

My eldest son Zaki, who is 13, grabbed the phone and shouted at Rafi: ‘Uncle, I am coming to see you!’ ‘Yes you are,’ Rafi replied and we all laughed and talked and talked.

As Ruqia and I laid Zaki and our other children Sana, Sudies and Sama down on their mats nearby, none of us slept.

But this time it was the excitement, not the fear of the Taliban arrival, that kept us awake. I thought of my six years of loyal service to the British; how I had saved the life of a soldier after hearing Taliban forces prepare to open fire as he climbed into a compound. I had grabbed his legs and dragged him from his ladder.

I thought about how, for some reason, the British said I had been dismissed for helping an Afghan soldier pass his exam. It was not true. But it prevented me from having a chance of relocation. Rafi and Daily Mail journalist David Williams have never given up on me. They dug and dug until they found evidence that helped the truth come out. Earlier this month, the Mail put that evidence to the MoD.

I did not sleep. Yesterday, I felt different, not tired. My head is clear, and my load is lighter. But there is a terrible contradiction.

I feel elated but scared too, very scared. I am approved at last – but will the call ever come for the flight? Will the airport still be open? Will we be able to safely navigate our way through the Taliban lines?

More and more fighters are arriving. These are hardened men from the battles of Helmand. What happens if I am recognised? I experienced the chaos and the dangers of the airport and how the mood can change. It worries me greatly: the checkpoint, the searches, the paperwork, the children saying a word out of place.

Only when we are in the air and away from Afghanistan will I relax. Until then, we will wait and hope and pray for our deliverance – and that this is not all too late.

As told to David Williams

By David Williams for the Daily Mail 

Yama, a former frontline interpreter for UK forces, had hoped to be in Britain with his wife Parwana after being approved for relocation eight months ago.

Instead, he is in his third hiding place since the Taliban swept across the country to Kabul. Yama, 31, who has taken the precaution of growing a thick beard, said he and his 30-year-old wife were stopped a dozen times by the Taliban on Monday.

He said: ‘Every time you come to a checkpoint you are nervous, frightened. It is like a lottery – how will they react? Will they search you? Will someone tell them who you really are? Will they be looking for you and have your picture?

In hiding: Former interpreter Yama with his wife Parwana. He is in his third hiding place since the Taliban swept across the country to Kabul

‘Will they ask you to get out of the car? All these things go through your mind. You can feel your heart beat loudly.’

Parwana is disabled in both legs after being hit by shrapnel from a Taliban mortar when she was five years old. She uses a wheelchair.

Yama said: ‘In a taxi, I wrap a blanket or cloth which covers her legs. It is dangerous for women under the Taliban and in particular for those women who are disabled. I 100 per cent trust the British and I am waiting for their call but we are frustrated and angry that this has taken so long.’

He added: ‘We do not understand why a case that was approved in December is still going on. It will be difficult and dangerous to safely reach the airport.

‘We have heard there are many roadblocks. Please relocate us. Don’t leave it too late.’

Wazir and his family slept in the open on the edge of Kabul’s crowded international airport yesterday – and he admitted to feeling safe for the first time in weeks.

However, the 31-year-old former frontline interpreter is still having to reckon with the threat of mortal danger.

He said: ‘The Taliban are close on the streets outside and if they find out who I am they will kill me, I am sure.’

The ex-translator had worn one of his wife’s burqas as a disguise to slip past insurgents storming his home city of Kunduz. Those who worked for the Afghan government and Western forces were being hunted down in revenge attacks, he said.

Desperate for sanctuary: Wazir, pictured right, with a British soldier. He and his family are at Kabul airport

He finally made it into the airport amid the chaos by clambering over a wall with wife Frishtah, 30, three year-old son Mohammad and daughters Tamaz, six, Iqrah, four, and 11-month-old Yususra.

‘There are American and British troops here and we know we are safe from attack,’ Wazir said yesterday. ‘We have nowhere else to go and pray that Britain will show compassion and save us.’

He is trying to secure sanctuary in the UK after being rejected for relocation because he had been dismissed after nearly three years on the frontline. He has reapplied. ‘Each flight we see arriving represents hope,’ he explained.

Wazir said he had written to Defence Secretary Ben Wallace pleading for sanctuary. ‘I am only a target because I risked my life for the British forces and I ask that the Government recognise this and save my life and that of my family,’ he said.

‘If we are denied this and manage to escape... then we will be forced to try and reach safety with the help of people smugglers – this is very dangerous.’