The Kurdish guerrilla movement PKK, who are fighting Turkey for autonomy, has become stronger in recent years, recruiting both men and women, reports freelance contributor Peter O'Connor from northern Iraq.

North of the city of Amedia, Iraq, a small road winds its way up into the mountains.

The bitumen ends at an eerily deserted tourist park and the road turns to gravel.

It then twists and turns its way over a pass, and descends into a lush valley full of farms and orchards.

Amid all of this bucolic serenity, one hardly notices crossing an important, but invisible border.

Sitting in the shade are a group of men and women, all dressed in the same baggy fatigues, Kalashnikov and M16 rifles slung over their shoulders.

These are members of the PKK, a Kurdish guerrilla movement who, since 1978, have been fighting an on-and-off battle with Turkey for Kurdish autonomy.

Originally a Marxist group, the PKK shifted their ideology over the years to a more libertarian system where local "cantons" govern themselves democratically.

Among Middle East militant movements, the PKK are notable for their gender equality — about 40 per cent of fighters are women.

While the membership is almost entirely Kurdish, they claim to be a political movement independent of ethnicity or religion.

A delicate two-year ceasefire between the PKK and the Turkish government broke down in July of this year, when an Islamic State (IS) suicide bomb killed 33 people in Suruc, Turkey.

The PKK claimed the government was behind the attack and killed two Turkish soldiers. Since then, Turkish jets have been bombing PKK positions in northern Iraq, and the PKK has launched many attacks on Turkish police and military personnel.

Two fighters stand over the scene of a bomb crater from 16 days earlier. ( Supplied: Peter O'Connor )

Scattered around the valley are blackened patches of earth where the bombs have fallen. A large crater is all that remains of a PKK military hospital, destroyed a few weeks earlier.

When it is time for tea, one fighter collects sticks, starts a fire, and boils some stream water in an old kettle.

Their lifestyle is ascetic — they sleep outdoors and cook by fire. Fighters are married to the cause — any other sort of romantic affair is strictly forbidden.

Throughout this valley there are about 200 PKK fighters. They use the location to train recruits in first aid.

Despite the history of tension between the PKK and the government of Iraqi Kurdistan, the PKK and the local Peshmerga (Iraqi Kurdish Army) seem to have a "live and let live" relationship.

When asked if the Peshmerga ever come up to this region, one fighter responded "no, never".

When asked what would happen if they did, he said, "nothing — that guy's Peshmerga", gesturing to a local man in civilian clothes who had come to visit his farm.

'Those who call us terrorists should review facts'

Shahan has been in the PKK for 16 years and is now an officer. He explains how the PKK's movement has become stronger in recent years, with gains made by the YPG (the PKK's Syrian branch) in the region of Rojava in Kurdish northern Syria.

He also points to the operations in Sinjar, Iraq, where the YPG, PKK and Peshmerga continue to battle Islamic State.

Shahan is personally motivated by his desire to achieve the release of the PKK's leader, Abdullah "Apo" Ocalan, who since 1999 has been held in a Turkish prison.

He is also fighting for the freedom of fellow Kurds in the four sectors of Kurdistan — Iraq, Iran, Turkey, and Syria.

Shahan claims that while Turkish bombs have done little to impede the movements of this unit, the fact remains10 fighters have been killed, and locals have suffered damage to their orchards and livestock.

The PKK is not totally defenceless against the bombardment. One fighter claims that they have anti-aircraft guns hidden throughout the mountains and are holding a Turkish pilot prisoner, after shooting down his aircraft.

Recently, western nations have had a double-sided relationship with the PKK.

The European Union and NATO consider the PKK to be a terrorist organisation. It was the CIA who arrested Mr Ocalan before handing him over to Turkey.

Some see the West's position as a diplomatic gesture to placate Turkey — a NATO ally — and gain its co-operation for military campaigns in the region.

However, since September 2014, a US-led coalition has been lending military air support to the YPG (people's army), that has very close ties with the PKK, in its fight against Islamic State in Syria.

In a recent speech, Turkey's president criticised the US for supporting the YPG, which Ankara sees as just another terrorist group.

"Those who call us terrorists should review the facts themselves. The Kurdish people have a just cause, to stop the colonisation [by Turkey] and achieve the Kurdish peoples' rights. Nobody can stop our struggle," Shahan said.

Girls as young as 16 recruited

It is quite apparent from here that the YPG and PKK differ in little other than a name.

Brusk is a fighter from Syria. He fought with the YPG before coming to join the PKK in Iraq, and is soon to be deployed back to Syria with the YPG.

He says that Kurdish forces in Syria follow the PKK leader Mr Ocalan.

"In Rojava, Kurds, Arabs, Armenians and Assyrians live in peaceful co-existence," he said.

A 16-year-old fighter, who has been in the PKK for two years, prepares tea. ( Supplied: Peter O'Connor )

In the evening a 16-year-old girl sets her gun aside and cooks a pot of pasta. Two years ago, she left her hometown in Turkey to join the PKK. Her parents had been involved with the PKK and supported her decision.

The air strikes have certainly made the fighters wary. They only congregate in small groups and are constantly on the move. After sundown, the fighters eat in the dark under the cover of a tree.

When it is time to sleep, they jump into a truck and drive down the road. One at a time, fighters hop out to go to their respective sleeping places on widely separated mats scattered through the orchards.

In the night, one can hear the sound of a baby crying from a nearby house. Later, that cry is replaced by the distant hiss of a Turkish jet high above.