PANJWAII DISTRICT, Afghanistan - A U.S. Blackhawk helicopter recently touched down at a forward operating base in southern Afghanistan where sweaty, tired Canadian troops waited their turn for a ride.

They were going home after six months of bitter, often bloody fighting.

As it wafted skyward, the aircraft banked over a village tucked right up close to the razor wire of the base in central Panjwaii district, west of Kandahar city.

And as the hard-scrabble collect of mud-walled homes and corrugated tin shops slid beneath the window, a soldier stuck up his middle finger and held it there until the village disappeared in a swirl of desert landscape.

It was a spontaneous gesture aimed at the faceless tormentors who had shot at him and lobbed rocket-propelled grenades at the outpost while hiding among an indifferent population.

Better than any words, it expressed the simmering frustration felt by many Canadian soldiers as February rolled into March 2009, marking the beginning of another new phase in the Afghan war.

It was also symbolic of where many Canadians seem to be in their hearts after three years of combat in Kandahar province and 116 dead soldiers on the mission to Afghanistan.

Canada sent troops to Afghanistan in early 2002 after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks by al-Qaida, which was sheltered by the Taliban government. A U.S.-led invasion drove the Taliban from power but the extremists maintained their hold on large segments of the Afghan population, especially in the south, and regrouped into a stubborn insurgency.

For a time, Canadian troops were based in Kabul as part of NATO's International Security Assistance Force. They moved south and have been spearheading the fight against the insurgency in Kandahar province since 2006.

Had Parliament not passed a second extension to their mission, these soldiers -- many on their third or fourth tours -- would have been going home for good.

It is little wonder that many are exhausted, heart sick and fed up with what they regard as a wasteland with often-inhospitable people whom they are trying to help.

War -- especially this one, it seems -- has a tendency to wash the idealism out of even the brightest eyes.

Beyond the apparent inability of the Afghans to choose their better angels, there is exasperation with what is seen as the Canadian government's often muddled, mandarin-driven approach to redevelopment.

Announcements are made, position papers drawn, politicians say hundreds of million of dollars are being spent -- yet the same rubble piles remain in the same rural villages.

There is a sense among the barrack tents that Canada should have been further ahead after three years in Kandahar.

"We're providing the Afghans with a security bubble. But some times you ask yourself: For what?" said Lt. Jeff Lloyd, of 4 Platoon, November Company, 3rd Battalion Royal Canadian Regiment battle group.

"We seemed to be spinning our wheels and only moving forward bit by bit," he said in an interview.

In fairness, until last year's Taliban prison break and a series of other spectacular attacks, Kandahar city had flourish under Canadian protection, taking on the resemblance of a medieval boom town for a period of time.

But an ongoing series of assassinations and deadly roadside bombs has caused much of the exuberance to evaporate.

In the rural villages, many of them seemingly untouched since Biblical times, soldiers patrol and sit down for shuras -- community meetings -- with Afghan elders. The conversations over steaming Chai tea seem to have changed little over three years.

The villagers will say: We need security and the police are ripping is off.

The Canadians will counter: Tell us where we can find the Taliban and their weapons.

Capt. Jon Baker, who in late February commanded the Panjwaii joint district co-ordination centre, conceded it often feels like the same dialogue with the Afghans are taking place over and over again.

"To some extent, the conversation remains the same," he said in an interview. "Maybe we just need to ask different questions or say things in a different manner in order to get the message through."

Part of the problem is that even after three years, Canadians are still learning the cultural nuances of rural southern Afghanistan where sometimes each village has its own customs and quirks.

That there is still much to learn was evident when the Operational Mentoring and Liaison Team organized a ribbon-cutting ceremony for Canadian-financed renovations to the local high school. The Afghans were left scratching their heads because the symbolism of cutting a piece of ribbon was lost on them.

The ceremony finally went according to the Afghan wishes.

"That's exactly the way we have to keep doing it, empowering those Afghans to do it according to their culture because we never will able to understand all of the subtlety," said Baker.

The head of Canada's civilian mission in Kandahar said he understands the different levels of frustration of the soldiers must feel, especially about development.

Ken Lewis said the troops and ultimately the public must understand that it is "damn hard to give money away and do it properly and to help" the Afghan people.

"Sometimes you can give money away and do development and actually hurt," he said. "It has to be a calm, cool, collected long-term process.

"We're building a dam, for example. It's hard for the guys in the FOBs (forward operating bases) and it's hard for the average Afghan to understand, (but) you don't want to do a dam wrong."

Reflecting on his last patrol just before comrades were killed down the road, Lloyd tried to sound optimistic.