Kabul -- Abdullah was 16 years old when Ahmed Shah Massoud first came to his family's wheat-farming village in the northern province of Takhar.

Massoud needed mujahedeen fighters to battle the Soviets, and Abdullah's parents, who were helping feed the troops, were proud for him to join in this jihad.

For more than two decades, Abdullah served under the man considered one of the great military strategists of the 20th century as he battled the Soviets, and then the Taliban, from a base in the rugged Panjshir valley north of Kabul.

Early on, Abdullah lost a leg fighting the Soviets. But he got a prosthetic and somehow kept fighting until he retired in his early 40s, after the toppling of the Taliban.

"From the day we started jihad, he was our leader, a good man, and I was proud of him," said Abdullah.

Abdullah the mujahedeen

Abdullah has retired back to his village. There is no government pension for his years of service but he makes a living farming wheat. This week, he and his friends journeyed south to Kabul to join hundreds that gathered in a huge tent on Tuesday to honor Massoud on the anniversary of his death --- Sept. 9, 2001.

Massoud was slain by two assassins. The killers posed as Arab journalists, then exploded a bomb during an interview.

In America, the assassination of Massoud is often remembered as a kind of warning shot fired across the bow in the run-up to 9/11, when Osama bin Laden and al-Qaida attacked the United States with hijacked airplanes.

Here in Afghanistan, 9/9 - not 9/11 - is the national day of mourning. The day honors a man that the government promotes as a kind of founding father of the new Afghan nation.

In this divided nation, there are plenty of people who don't accept that image - especially the Pashtuns in the east and the south of Afghanistan.

But in Kabul, this capital city, images of Massoud are hard to escape. His soulful face stares from posters plastered all over town. There is a Massoud Square that features a tower of resistance. And though the CIA often balked at supporting Massoud, the U.S. Embassy is now located on the Great Massoud Road.

Ahmed Shah Massoud

The ceremony to honor Massoud was held in the same huge tent that was the site of a 2002 Loya Jirga gathering to establish the new government. Security was tight, and my camera, as well as all my other electronic equipment, got special scrutiny before we were allowed inside.

I sat towards the back and could barely see all the way to the front, which was bathed in spot lights. The speakers included two of Massoud's brothers and plenty of politicians. They spoke in the rhythmic cadences of Dari. Every once in a while, someone would stand up in the audience and recite some poetry in Massoud's honor or lead the crowd to yell "Allah Akbar" or "God is Great."

There was plenty of talk about Massoud. How he lived a spartan life and never separated himself from his people, how he didn't flee the country when times got tough.

The word jihad was repeated often, denoting a proud tradition of fighting the Soviets that was followed by the resistance effort against the Taliban. The scars from all that fighting were easy to spot in this crowd.

Next to Abdullah, the graying warrior who lost his leg fighting the Soviets, sat another man who had lost his leg fighting theTaliban. A few seats down, I met an 18-year-old who lost his leg when he accidentally stepped on a mine when he was 10.

Through all those years, Massoud endured, shifting alliances and hunkering down in his rugged valley. The speakers heaped praise on him as a leader who shared hardships with his people rather trying to get rich.

"The years I spent with him with were the best of my life, even though we had money problems," said Abdullah Abdullah, who served for years as a Massoud emissary to the West and now seeks to become president of Afghanistan.

Many of Massoud's associates have prospered in recent years, their associations helping them to wield power in government and business. But among some of the speakers Tuesday, there was a sulky tone.

They chafed at the disrespect they felt is shown today to mujahedeen fighters, especially from Western officials. They had driven out the Soviets and helped end the Cold War. Yet now some of these leaders were dismissed as "war lords," said Abdul Rab Rasool Sayaf , who heads a political party called the Islamic Unity Movement.

After the memorial service ended, I drove back to the guest house. Being a holiday, there wasn't much traffic on the street. The open streets allowed Massoud supporters to race about town in long caravans of cars and trucks. They put his picture on their car windshields, and played music in homage to their fallen leader.