Photo courtesy of Jerry Custer

Col. Aktash (from left), Brig. Gen. Razaq, Jerry Custer and Habib, Custer's interpreter, are working together in Afghanistan.

Jerry Custer could be living out his retirement in his beloved Catawba -- soaking up the beautiful view, basking in the peaceful isolation of country life.

But, it was reported in October, he was about to leave those bucolic confines for a stint in much wilder, and more dangerous, country -- Afghanistan.

Custer, retired after 24 years in Roanoke County law enforcement, had overcome life-threatening kidney cancer and the devastating effects of a massive, experimental chemotherapy program. He got back in shape and ready for a new mission.

Today, the 58-year-old says he is working seven days a week training some of Afghanistan's top-ranking law enforcement officials, with a focus on instilling a sense of human rights when it comes to dealing with prisoners.

One of the things that is different about day-to-day life is as simple as the ride to work.

"I leave camp [and] travel eleven miles in armored Ford F-350s," he wrote in a recent e-mail.

"IEDs [improvised explosive devices] are plentiful in the area and our travel is not for sight-seeing. Our saying here is, 'Drive the vehicle like you stole it.' Speed is to our advantage.

"The Afghanistan police patrol vehicle is a Ford Ranger pick-up, normally with four men riding in the back with AK-47s and grenade launchers."

But despite the dangers, Custer seems to have no regrets about his decision.

"Most people consider this a job. I think of it as a great adventure."

Since Custer arrived in Afghanistan, President Obama has ordered what will be a dramatic increase in U.S. armed forces in the country as they battle a surge in al-Qaida activity.

Although Custer works for a private contractor -- which he says he cannot name for security reasons -- he is embedded with military forces, in his case, Afghan and German.

As a former military policeman, it seemed a natural fit.

The adventure began in the United States, where Custer was the oldest student in a group engaged in intensive physical and classroom training that washed out one-fourth of the 86 trainees. After a couple of weeks of additional training in Kabul when he first arrived, Custer was assigned to Kunduz, the capital city of a province by the same name in northern Afghanistan.

He said he provides personnel and financial and logistical mentoring to Brig. Gen. Razaq, commander of some 2,500 Afghan police officers.

"My goal was to change the way mentoring had been done in past years. I was to start at the top and empower the commander, working with him daily," Custer said.

"In the past two months, the General [Razaq] and I have begun molding a department that mirrors modern-day departments in the U.S.," including up-to-date jails and work programs for inmates.

A personal side project, he said, is to try to find a sponsor for Razaq and an interpreter to accompany him on a trip to the Roanoke Valley to see modern police operations firsthand.

Custer wrote that the "poverty is unbelievable" in Kunduz, a city of 100,000, and that "villages outside the city appear to be as in biblical times, hundreds of years behind modern countries."

The poverty contributes to corruption, which has made it difficult in the past for outsiders to influence Afghans to make their handling of prisoners conform to western standards of "humane."

While acknowledging there are dangers where he's working, Custer repeatedly focuses on the adventure and the fact that he believes the effort he's joined is making a difference.

"The best thing is, the people want us here," he said, "and somebody every day thanks me for helping.

"Pray for us, and especially the Afghanistan people."