LETTER FROM PAKISTAN/Paul Cullen: To enter the officers' mess of the Khyber Rifles, perched atop the famous pass of the same name, is to leave Pakistan and return to an earlier era.
The Raj is in its heyday and the sun shines unceasingly on the British Empire - the gardens here are perfectly tended, the walls are decorated with the booty of military campaigns, and the general air is one of leisurely opulence.
The impression is false, of course, because these days the regiment is very much part of the Pakistani army, and the army in Pakistan is at the heart of things here, from President (and general) Pervez Musharraf down.
Its soldiers still guard the narrow defile of the Khyber Pass, just as their predecessors did from the time the British established the regiment as the first on the Indian sub-continent in 1878.
From Alexander the Great to Tamerlane, most generals who sought to extend their empires eastwards have led troops over this gap in the mountains. All faced perilous journeys, packed with massive physical obstacles and hostile local tribes.
In 1842, Dr William Bryden of the British Expeditionary Force staggered into the post as the sole survivor of the retreat from Kabul, his horse dying beneath him. Afghan tribesmen had massacred the other 17,000 soldiers, camp followers, women and children.
Today, the strategic importance of this site is undiminished. The viewing post looks down on the valleys of Afghanistan, with the snow-capped peaks of the Hindu Kush behind them. Over the ridge to the left lies Tora Bora, hideout of al-Qaeda fighters and maybe even Osama bin Laden.
The post is strewn with artillery fired by the Soviets when they occupied Afghanistan.
The visitor who still doubts the importance of this redoubt is advised to view the photographs on display in the hall of the mess. Nixon, Carter, Bush senior, Clinton, Thatcher, Major - they were all here, and most are pictured alongside whatever Pakistani general happened to have seized power at that particular time.
Pakistan might be one of the world's poorer countries, it might also be judged one of the most corrupt, but its status as an important regional power is undisputed. And these days, now that it has the nuclear bomb and because of its proximity to Afghanistan, this strategic importance is greater than ever.
This is a devout Muslim state, but by no means as fundamentalist as it has been depicted over the past year.
Yet it seethes with tensions - between Christians and Muslims, between Shia and Sunni Muslims, between different ethnic groups and even between provinces. The population increases by three million every year.
The glue that holds all this together is the army, but this comes with a price. Pakistan spends 21 per cent of its budget on defence, and only one per cent on health. Debt servicing accounts for 52 per cent, but most Pakistanis will tell you the money borrowed ended up in the Swiss bank accounts of corrupt former (civilian) presidents.
In its present form, this is a benign form of military dictatorship.
President Musharraf enjoys widespread support for controlling terrorism and lawlessness, and the press enjoys considerable freedom.
Our host at the officers' mess, Capt Farooq, has just returned from service on the Siachen Glacier, the highest battlefield in the world. At over 6,000 metres, Pakistani and Indian troops slug it out in their never-ending conflict over Kashmir, whose northern end rises up into the Himalayas. Soldiers wear special equipment, including five layers of gloves, to cope with the conditions, but even then they have to be relieved after a few weeks at these altitudes and in temperatures of minus 50 degrees. More die from avalanches and altitude sickness than artillery exchanges.
These days, it's all one-way human traffic at the Khyber Pass, as Afghan refugees return home in their tens of thousands. But the lorries returning from Afghanistan are not always as empty as they seem, and Capt Farooq says his regiment seized 7,000 kilograms of heroin and more than a ton of hashish last year.
Clearly, not everyone is reading the sign prominently displayed at the border post, which reads: "The Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan considers the control of drugs its Islamic moral and legal responsibility" and threatens of all manner of punishment on those involved in this "evil phenomenon".
Notwithstanding the presence of the army, there is an undeniable sense of lawlessness about this region. The British were unable to subdue the local clans and ruled via a tribal agency.
This structure survives today, and the writ of the Pakistani authorities is shaky. Dozens of guards armed with Kalashnikovs provide our escort through the region. Kidnappings are common and gun-making is to the locals what poitin stills were to rural Ireland in earlier times.
Or, as Capt Farooq puts it, the locals make "good friends but bitter enemies" and "even the women can handle a gun".