By Doug Struck
Washington Post, March 26th 2002
CAMPO UNO, Philippines -- The chudder-chudder sound of helicopters pulsed
the air as U.S. soldiers -- some stripped to their waist in the thick heat
-- uncrated tons of supplies and meticulously prepared their gear for the
next U.S. assault on terrorism.
"You can always tell the newcomers -- they're the ones sweating profusely," chuckled Maj. John Deedrick, a hulking 6-foot-6 Special Forces officer in charge at this outpost on Basilan island in the southern Philippines.
His 34 men are among about 660 U.S. troops who plan to help nearly 4,000 Philippine forces try to eliminate a ragtag, starving group of guerrillas thought to number no more than 100.
Since they began to arrive on the island Feb. 17, the Americans have not fired a shot -- and they are not supposed to, except in self-defense. But they have been huddling with their Philippine counterparts in jungle camps scattered over the island, and directing the deployment of high-tech assistance -- ranging from unmanned surveillance drones to heat sensors that detect people in the jungle at night.
The joint effort shows signs of paying off. Clashes between the Philippine soldiers and their quarry, Muslim guerrillas belonging to the group Abu Sayyaf, have become more frequent and deadly in recent weeks. Soldiers got close enough Saturday to spot a woman with the fleeing guerrillas, possibly an American held hostage with her husband for nine months or a Filipino nurse also being held by the rebels.
The Philippine government said it had received -- and rejected -- an offer of a cease-fire by the Abu Sayyaf. Authorities said the offer is a sign of increased desperation by the group, which has carried out numerous kidnappings. It also signals that the government troops and the U.S. soldiers officially referred to as "trainers" might be close to an attempt to rescue of the hostages -- Deborah Yap, the nurse, and Americans Martin and Gracia Burnham.
The U.S. troops have denied they would attempt a rescue, given their limited role, which was dictated by the Philippines to ease acceptance of U.S. troops returning to a country that evicted them 10 years ago. But at least twice in recent weeks, U.S. soldiers have rushed to a combat zone to help evacuate Philippine casualties, and some say it is only a matter of time before the Special Forces soldiers encounter live fire. There are about 160 Special Forces troops among the U.S. contingent here.
"There is a great deal of concern internationally whether Basilan is becoming another Afghanistan," Walden Bello, a Filipino peace activist, told U.S. officers this week in a meeting arranged at a forward base camp on the island.
The Americans are aware of the comparison. As in Afghanistan, troops here will be operating in a treacherous and unforgiving environment -- 10 U.S. soldiers died Feb. 22 in the crash of a helicopter that was flying low at night, a key strategy in this operation. The terrain also gives the enemy ample opportunity to hide. And, like the enemy in Afghanistan, the guerrillas here are hard to identify, blending in among civilians or switching their professed affiliations to supposedly neutral groups.
As at the start of the Afghan war, much of the up-close fighting is supposed to be done by others -- in this case the Philippine army -- and U.S. troops will be tightly constrained in what they can do.
And as in Afghanistan, the U.S. troops will be operating with allies they are not certain they can trust. While the Philippine government is staunchly pro-American, its military working in the southern Philippines faces charges that it let the guerrillas escape in turn for a share of a ransom.
"The Americans will never finish off Abu Sayyaf until the corruption is cleaned up in the Philippine military," said the Rev. Cirilo Nacorda, a Roman Catholic priest who has braved death threats to press his allegations against the military and local officials.
His charges arise from a bloody shootout in June during a siege at a small Catholic hospital adjacent to his church in Lamitan, three miles from this camp. The guerrillas were surrounded at the hospital but escaped with their hostages.
Nacorda has given investigators detailed testimony from people who were inside and outside the compound that alleges that a top military officer and the local governor were seen with a briefcase stuffed with cash. After that, Nacorda said, a squad guarding the rear of the hospital was withdrawn, allowing the rebels to walk away with their hostages.
"The military doesn't want the Abu Sayyaf to end. The longer it goes on, the more their budgets go up, the more guns and ammunition they can sell the guerrillas, the more ransoms they get a cut of," said Nacorda, talking to a reporter in his bullet-scarred church quarters next to the hospital.
"There are questions," acknowledged the chief spokesman for the Philippine armed forces, Brig. Gen. Edilberto P. Adan, in an interview. "There could have been a payoff. I personally believe there was. But where it went and who got it is a question. What we're saying is the military was not involved."
The offer by President Bush to send troops to quash the Abu Sayyaf as part of his global war on terrorism prompted a bitter political debate in the country. To quiet the criticism, President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo insisted on strict limits to the U.S. role in the operation, called Balikatan, or "shoulder-to-shoulder."
The Special Forces soldiers squirm under the rules that limit their patrols and require that they fire only in self-defense. "We'd like to go out and see with our own eyes," said one.
But the Americans know their limits. "We are here to train, advise and assist," Lt. Col. David Maxwell, the head of the Special Forces, said in an interview at the Basilan island headquarters camp of Babiawan, at the end of a rutted dirt road that leads to a mango swamp.
"We are here to help our allies in the global war against terror. But it's their fight," he said.
Basilan island is deceptively tranquil. From seaside swamps and waterside villages built on stilts, the island rises to rugged peaks. Rubber tree plantations and towering coconut palm trees provide a dense canopy and warm breezes whisper through the fronds in places where the U.S. forces have moved into camps with their Philippine counterparts.
"It's actually nicer than we expected," said Marc Dickinson, 30, a Special Forces captain from Fort Lewis, Wash. "We envisioned living in the jungle with our rucksack. But we've got a bunk, the food's great, and a roof over our heads" -- even if it is thatched.
The Americans do not leave their camps without weapons. The island has been the site of dozens of kidnappings. Not far from Lamitan, 10 Christian peasants were beheaded. Foreigners and reporters are warned not to come to the island.
Sheila Tabunag, 25, a Philippine nurse who was taken from the Lamitan hospital June 2 and held by the Abu Sayyaf for 5 1/2 months, said she still worries that the guerrillas may come down from the mountain for her.
"The fear is still there. When I come to work, I look to see if there are Abu Sayyaf," she said in an interview at the hospital where she is now working again.
It is hard to distinguish the Abu Sayyaf from the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), a Muslim independence movement that shares goals and territory with the Abu Sayyaf. MILF rebels have threatened to attack Americans who enter their areas, and U.S. forces are wary they may be drawn into a wider conflict than they expected.
"The primary threat we're concerned about is Abu Sayyaf. But we're concerned about anyone who shows a hostile intent toward the U.S.," said Deedrick, the U.S. outpost commander. "We know this is a complex situation. We are never relaxed."
The Americans are hoping to smooth their reception in the countryside. Officers are diplomatically making the rounds of local officials, churches and mosques. Maxwell, the Special Forces head, good-naturedly doffed a native cap when he was named a "Son of Basilan Island" recently, even as his soldiers scanned the audience, with automatic rifles at the ready. But the most successful U.S. diplomat here might be "Shrek," the animated star of a movie shown to local children at one U.S. camp.
In addition, the United States has promised to undertake local civic construction projects. The work has yet to start, but already the list of requests is long.
"We have to tell them it's not a quick fix," said Dickinson, worried about booming expectations. "Everyone is not going to get a new water system or a new school."
The poorly funded Philippine military has joined the queue, expecting the Americans to leave behind their high-tech equipment. The United States has promised to give $100 million in military aid, and the Philippine army has a long wish list that includes helicopters, patrol boats and high-tech night operation equipment.
Both militaries hope such equipment will help rescue the hostages. David Pamaran, the brother of the captured nurse, Yap, is not certain Philippine forces are up to the job, even with U.S. help. "The Americans need a loyal guide, and they may not get it with the Philippine armed forces," he said.
As he talked, he fingered the last letter delivered from Abu Sayyaf, demanding a 1 million peso ($200,000) ransom for Yap, an amount Pamaran does not have.
"Remember what happened in the hospital? It could happen again. Do not
provoke us," the letter reads. It was signed, "Best Regards, Abu
Sayyaf."