U.S.
Troops Are Relieved to Be Greeted With Smiles
By
Barbara Demick, LA Times Staff Writer
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MEULABOH,
Indonesia Hanging out the back of an open truck, his
video camera rolling, Capt. Jay Delarosa noted with delight
how people emerged with enthusiastic waves to welcome the
Marines to their devastated city.
"People
sure are nice here," he said a little later. "Not
like Iraq."
With
the Pentagon's $5.6-million-a-day relief operation on behalf
of tsunami victims now in full swing, almost everything about
it tends to remind the U.S. military personnel here that this
isn't Iraq.
The
troops can move around freely, without body armor or even
guns. Their mission meets with the world's overwhelming approval.
They
are working side by side with the United Nations and 11 other
countries even France, a leading critic of the Iraq
war as the scope of the tragedy proves a unifying force.
Although
this is one of the most devoutly Muslim parts of Indonesia,
where public sentiment runs strongly against the Bush administration
and the Iraq war, many people here seem thrilled by the American
presence.
The
United States is seizing the opportunity to improve its image.
On a tour of the stricken region last week, Secretary of State
Colin L. Powell noted that humanitarian aid to the area was
"in our best interest, and it dries up those pools of
dissatisfaction that might give rise to terrorist activity."
The
U.S. has committed $350 million to help victims of the Dec.
26 tsunami and has mobilized more than 14,000 military personnel
to deliver relief in Indonesia, Sri Lanka and Thailand. At
least two dozen Navy ships, 45 planes and 50 helicopters are
being used in the operation.
Though
their mission here is one of peace, the American forces' operations
in the disaster zone are shaped by the reality of the ongoing
war in Iraq. The troops are acutely aware that they have an
opportunity to foster goodwill toward the U.S. and counter
the image of a sometimes-brutal occupier.
"Our
job is, frankly, placing warheads on foreheads. It's nice
when you can help somebody by distributing 5-gallon jugs of
water," said Navy Capt. J. Scott Jones, commanding officer
of the amphibious assault ship Bonhomme Richard, which is
participating in the relief effort.
On
Monday, an amphibious hovercraft launched from the Bonhomme
delivered 32 tons of water, rice and toilet paper to Meulaboh,
the closest city to the epicenter of the earthquake that triggered
the tsunami. For the last two weeks, this stretch of coastline
had been accessible only by helicopter.
"It's
the best way to bring relief to those areas that are inaccessible
because the roads were destroyed," said Delarosa, who
is traveling on the Bonhomme. "These [hovercraft] can
carry six times more aid than a helicopter."
The
Marines are clearly relishing the mission. Touring around
Meulaboh the last few days, they've been chatting with refugees
and handing out candy to children, trying to get off on a
good foot with the locals. They've also launched a concerted
charm offensive with the many foreign aid agencies working
here, trying to show that the United States can be a team
player.
In
the last few days, the Marines have offered their helicopters
to carry equipment and personnel for French and Spanish relief
teams and U.N. personnel. Borrowing from the parlance of the
Iraq war, Marine Col. Tom Greenwood, commanding officer of
the 15th Marine Expeditionary Unit, referred to these other
foreign aid teams as "coalition partners."
"Bonjour,"
Greenwood crowed to a group of French journalists and aid
workers at a makeshift helicopter pad near the beach in Meulaboh.
After
telling the group about the assistance the Marines are providing
to the French teams, he said: "I think that's a good
story after all that people are saying, that Americans
and French don't like each other. That's not true. We're all
one happy family." Then he closed with a laugh line.
"I eat French fries," he said.
The
Marines have taken several steps to avoid offending the governments
and the individuals they are trying to help.
They
carry no weapons on shore, leaving security in the hands of
the Indonesian military. Instead of bringing many vehicles
to land to deliver aid and risking traffic accidents
that could spark anti-American anger the Marines have
left final distribution to the Indonesian military.
The
Marines have limited interaction with tsunami victims. They
don't even have their own interpreter, relying on the Indonesian
military or Singaporean troops (whose language is understandable
to Indonesians) to mediate with the local populace.
"We
have to be very careful about calibrating our footprint on
the ground," Greenwood said. "The idea here is for
us to help without being a nuisance. We could bring in thousands
of Marines, but then we would overwhelm the place and look
like an occupying force. We want to be very discreet."
A
senior Asian military official, who asked not to be quoted
by name, said the Americans had good reason to be cautious.
"I
recognize from an American perspective, this is a great opportunity
to restore their image and to make a real contribution. Nobody
can match the resources the Americans are bringing in,"
he said. "But America does carry a certain baggage in
these parts and it doesn't take much to lose goodwill, just
a few obnoxious actions."
Although
their measured approach may avoid creating problems, the relative
distance U.S. troops are keeping has left some Indonesians
wondering where the Americans are.
Unlike
Australian soldiers, for example, who have been distributing
purified water in the center of Banda Aceh, the provincial
capital, Americans are hard to spot on the streets. U.S. forces
don't have a camp in the city, as forces from some other countries
do.
Since
the disaster, few people in Banda Aceh have had access to
television or other media, so many are unaware of the U.S.
role in transporting large quantities of aid by ship and airplane.
"I
never heard about any aid and never got aid from the United
States," said Dwi Putrasyah, head of logistics at Banda
Aceh's municipal relief center, which coordinates delivery
of food and provisions.
Only
a few dozen of the more than 2,000 Marine and Navy personnel
on the Bonhomme Richard go to shore each day. They return
before nightfall to sleep on the ship, where they can drink
Starbucks coffee and surf the Internet. In Meulaboh, there's
been no running water or telephone service, and little electricity
or food, for more than two weeks.
The
Bonhomme, whose home port is San Diego, was in the South Pacific
on its way to the Persian Gulf when the tsunami hit. The ship
made a quick stop at the nearest port, Guam, to pick up supplies,
and headed for the Indian Ocean.
Most
of the Marines on the ship served in Iraq in the early months
of the war, which began in March 2003. While they are loath
to publicly express any reservations about their mission in
Iraq, many are clearly happy that their ship changed course,
if only temporarily.
1st
Lt. Justin J. Jordan said he had lost three friends in the
war in Iraq. He is not reluctant to serve in Iraq again, he
said, but "in some ways, this is a more rewarding mission.
You are fixing a community that has been destroyed. This was
Indonesia's 9/11 times 100. You see the look in people's faces,
and you want to help."
Meulaboh
residents who have encountered the Americans are welcoming
but cautious.
"We
have some concerns," said Ariso Agus, a 36-year-old construction
worker who was helping to clear rubble from the beach. "I
don't agree with the American occupation of Iraq. And I don't
agree with American morals, like men and women sleeping together
in the same bed. We don't want any of that
. If the Americans
are coming, they shouldn't stay long."
Hussein
Abdullah, a 41-year-old farmer who lost a son and two daughters
to the tsunami, interrupted.
"I'm
just a simple person. I know nothing about Iraq. All I know
is that I need rice to eat for my breakfast," he said.
"If the Americans can bring us aid, we need it and they
are welcome."
Staff
writer Don Lee in Banda Aceh contributed to this report.
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