Team Infidel
Forum Spin Doctor
Wall Street Journal
June 18, 2008
Pg. 1
To Win Over Civilians, Soldiers Take Claims for Damages; a Free Wind-Up Radio
By Michael M. Phillips
GARMSIR, Afghanistan -- During a month of house-to-house combat, First Lt. Steven Bechtel's men fired about 500 mortar rounds at Taliban insurgents.
Now, he's paying the price.
Just two days after the main Taliban force was routed, Lt. Bechtel put aside his weapons and opened what amounts to a wartime complaints desk in a mud-brick hut. The lieutenant and his men spend their time cataloging the destruction and issuing vouchers to compensate villagers for their losses, whether caused by U.S. missiles or Taliban grenades.
"We're very sorry for the damage to your doors, but we had to make sure the Taliban didn't leave any bombs or weapons inside," Lt. Bechtel last week told Abdul Majid, a 70-year-old with a weathered face, a dense white beard and a cane made from a tree limb.
"It's no problem," Mr. Majid responded. "You're paying for it."
The First Battalion of the Sixth Marine Regiment was recently deployed to Afghanistan as part of a force, 3,000-strong, helping to turn the tide against a resurgent Taliban. What resulted was a conventional battle that raged through the villages and poppy fields of Garmsir District, a major waypoint for insurgents leaving safe havens in Pakistan, a sign of how far Western gains have slipped recently.
The fighting sent civilians fleeing into the surrounding desert. After the violence ebbed, the villagers returned, in many cases to homes cracked open by artillery, bombs, missiles and rocket-propelled grenades. Soon they were lined up at Lt. Bechtel's door, testing the Marines' ability to shift gears on the fly, from combat to the struggle for popular allegiance. Winning over the locals has always been a goal; now, it's happening in double-quick time.
"It just switched suddenly one day," says Lt. Bechtel, a soft-spoken 24-year-old from Naples, Fla., who decided in the eighth grade that he wanted to be a Marine. "All of the sudden there were civilians in the area."
More than 200 villagers have applied for compensation already, and a vendor has set up shop outside the coiled razor-wire barrier selling cigarettes and soda to the petitioners. At the first coils, the villagers, all men or boys, must lift their shirts or robes to show that they aren't wearing suicide vests. At the guard post, a Marine sentry pats them down before they're allowed to approach the office.
The walls inside are adorned with posters of sumptuous feasts and the holy city of Medina. They're property of the compound's owner. The Marines commandeered the man's residence during the fighting, and now scores of men from the battalion's Alpha Company camp in his buildings and sandy yard, for which they pay the equivalent of $60 a month in rent. The troops promise to leave as soon as they have built a base of their own. But the owner comes by almost daily to demand his house back, or at least more rent.
Verifying the Damage
The first time a villager comes to the complaint office, the lieutenant or his No. 2, Sgt. James Blake, a 25-year-old from Merrimack, N.H., jots down the claim on a piece of yellow legal paper. The petitioner takes the note to a Marine patrol in his neighborhood. The Marines verify the damage and send the man back to Lt. Bechtel.
At the second meeting, the Marines tally up the cost, using data on an Excel spreadsheet that the lieutenant, who majored in mechanical-engineering at Virginia Military Institute, compiled using prices gathered from the local market:
-- One foot of mud wall knocked down: 300 afghanis ($6)
-- One wooden door smashed in: 1,000 afghanis ($20)
-- One acre of wheat burned: 15,000 afghanis ($300)
The Marines won't pay for damage to opium poppy fields.
A typical damage-assessment interview goes like this:
Sgt. Blake: "Were your windows glass, sir?"
Bismullah Jan, a 25-year-old wheat, corn and poppy farmer: "Yes."
Sgt. Blake: "How many cows, sir?"
Mr. Jan: "Three cows and three goats."
Sgt. Blake to his Pashto interpreter: "Hey, James, what's a good price for goats? Just a ballpark figure."
Interpreter: "5,000 or 6,000 afghanis." ($100 to $120)
Sgt. Blake adds up the damage and offers 251,000 afghanis ($5,020). Mr. Jan hoped for something more. He emptied his pockets and held up two 100 afghani bills, worth $2 each -- a plea of poverty.
"Unfortunately, all I can do is pay for damage caused when we were fighting the Taliban," Sgt. Blake told him apologetically.
On a single day last week , the Marines pledged $12,100 in reparations. "I'd rather be shooting mortars," says Sgt. Blake. "But I understand why we're doing this, paying for the damage we caused. And I like helping people out as much as we can."
The Marines take retinal and fingerprint scans of all petitioners -- when the scanner works. When it doesn't, as is often the case amid the dust clouds and the 125-degree heat, they use a regular digital camera to snap mug shots taken against handwritten height marks on the wall.
Taliban Threats
Taliban infiltrators have threatened to kill villagers who accept American money, according to U.S. intelligence reports. Still, petitioners keep coming.
"Congratulations -- you're No. 200," Sgt. Blake said when a man in a gold-embroidered skullcap entered the office the other day. "You've won a free radio."
The man greeted the news with a blank stare. But he willingly accepted the wind-up radio and a damage-assessment note to take to the Marine patrols.
Afghanistan is a wretchedly poor country and, often, villagers hope the Marines will do more than compensate them for battle damage. One man showed up with his son; their house was undamaged, but the boy had tuberculosis. Another man shows up almost every day just to say hello.
Mr. Majid, the elderly petitioner, patted Lt. Bechtel on the shoulder and removed his own blue turban -- gestures of gratitude -- when offered 36,000 afghanis, or about $720, to repair his house and restore his fields. Afterward, he requested medicine for his headaches and help feeding his family. By the time he left, Mr. Majid had a new radio, a few packaged military meals, Tylenol for his head and antidiarrhea medicine for his grandson.
There's one flaw in the Marines' campaign. While they freely issue compensation vouchers, they don't have any actual money to give out yet. The cash, the Marines tell the villagers, will be here on July 1. The date has already slipped once, from mid-June, and some people doubt they'll ever see the money. "If we don't pay them on the first," Sgt. Blake said, "it's going to be bad."
June 18, 2008
Pg. 1
To Win Over Civilians, Soldiers Take Claims for Damages; a Free Wind-Up Radio
By Michael M. Phillips
GARMSIR, Afghanistan -- During a month of house-to-house combat, First Lt. Steven Bechtel's men fired about 500 mortar rounds at Taliban insurgents.
Now, he's paying the price.
Just two days after the main Taliban force was routed, Lt. Bechtel put aside his weapons and opened what amounts to a wartime complaints desk in a mud-brick hut. The lieutenant and his men spend their time cataloging the destruction and issuing vouchers to compensate villagers for their losses, whether caused by U.S. missiles or Taliban grenades.
"We're very sorry for the damage to your doors, but we had to make sure the Taliban didn't leave any bombs or weapons inside," Lt. Bechtel last week told Abdul Majid, a 70-year-old with a weathered face, a dense white beard and a cane made from a tree limb.
"It's no problem," Mr. Majid responded. "You're paying for it."
The First Battalion of the Sixth Marine Regiment was recently deployed to Afghanistan as part of a force, 3,000-strong, helping to turn the tide against a resurgent Taliban. What resulted was a conventional battle that raged through the villages and poppy fields of Garmsir District, a major waypoint for insurgents leaving safe havens in Pakistan, a sign of how far Western gains have slipped recently.
The fighting sent civilians fleeing into the surrounding desert. After the violence ebbed, the villagers returned, in many cases to homes cracked open by artillery, bombs, missiles and rocket-propelled grenades. Soon they were lined up at Lt. Bechtel's door, testing the Marines' ability to shift gears on the fly, from combat to the struggle for popular allegiance. Winning over the locals has always been a goal; now, it's happening in double-quick time.
"It just switched suddenly one day," says Lt. Bechtel, a soft-spoken 24-year-old from Naples, Fla., who decided in the eighth grade that he wanted to be a Marine. "All of the sudden there were civilians in the area."
More than 200 villagers have applied for compensation already, and a vendor has set up shop outside the coiled razor-wire barrier selling cigarettes and soda to the petitioners. At the first coils, the villagers, all men or boys, must lift their shirts or robes to show that they aren't wearing suicide vests. At the guard post, a Marine sentry pats them down before they're allowed to approach the office.
The walls inside are adorned with posters of sumptuous feasts and the holy city of Medina. They're property of the compound's owner. The Marines commandeered the man's residence during the fighting, and now scores of men from the battalion's Alpha Company camp in his buildings and sandy yard, for which they pay the equivalent of $60 a month in rent. The troops promise to leave as soon as they have built a base of their own. But the owner comes by almost daily to demand his house back, or at least more rent.
Verifying the Damage
The first time a villager comes to the complaint office, the lieutenant or his No. 2, Sgt. James Blake, a 25-year-old from Merrimack, N.H., jots down the claim on a piece of yellow legal paper. The petitioner takes the note to a Marine patrol in his neighborhood. The Marines verify the damage and send the man back to Lt. Bechtel.
At the second meeting, the Marines tally up the cost, using data on an Excel spreadsheet that the lieutenant, who majored in mechanical-engineering at Virginia Military Institute, compiled using prices gathered from the local market:
-- One foot of mud wall knocked down: 300 afghanis ($6)
-- One wooden door smashed in: 1,000 afghanis ($20)
-- One acre of wheat burned: 15,000 afghanis ($300)
The Marines won't pay for damage to opium poppy fields.
A typical damage-assessment interview goes like this:
Sgt. Blake: "Were your windows glass, sir?"
Bismullah Jan, a 25-year-old wheat, corn and poppy farmer: "Yes."
Sgt. Blake: "How many cows, sir?"
Mr. Jan: "Three cows and three goats."
Sgt. Blake to his Pashto interpreter: "Hey, James, what's a good price for goats? Just a ballpark figure."
Interpreter: "5,000 or 6,000 afghanis." ($100 to $120)
Sgt. Blake adds up the damage and offers 251,000 afghanis ($5,020). Mr. Jan hoped for something more. He emptied his pockets and held up two 100 afghani bills, worth $2 each -- a plea of poverty.
"Unfortunately, all I can do is pay for damage caused when we were fighting the Taliban," Sgt. Blake told him apologetically.
On a single day last week , the Marines pledged $12,100 in reparations. "I'd rather be shooting mortars," says Sgt. Blake. "But I understand why we're doing this, paying for the damage we caused. And I like helping people out as much as we can."
The Marines take retinal and fingerprint scans of all petitioners -- when the scanner works. When it doesn't, as is often the case amid the dust clouds and the 125-degree heat, they use a regular digital camera to snap mug shots taken against handwritten height marks on the wall.
Taliban Threats
Taliban infiltrators have threatened to kill villagers who accept American money, according to U.S. intelligence reports. Still, petitioners keep coming.
"Congratulations -- you're No. 200," Sgt. Blake said when a man in a gold-embroidered skullcap entered the office the other day. "You've won a free radio."
The man greeted the news with a blank stare. But he willingly accepted the wind-up radio and a damage-assessment note to take to the Marine patrols.
Afghanistan is a wretchedly poor country and, often, villagers hope the Marines will do more than compensate them for battle damage. One man showed up with his son; their house was undamaged, but the boy had tuberculosis. Another man shows up almost every day just to say hello.
Mr. Majid, the elderly petitioner, patted Lt. Bechtel on the shoulder and removed his own blue turban -- gestures of gratitude -- when offered 36,000 afghanis, or about $720, to repair his house and restore his fields. Afterward, he requested medicine for his headaches and help feeding his family. By the time he left, Mr. Majid had a new radio, a few packaged military meals, Tylenol for his head and antidiarrhea medicine for his grandson.
There's one flaw in the Marines' campaign. While they freely issue compensation vouchers, they don't have any actual money to give out yet. The cash, the Marines tell the villagers, will be here on July 1. The date has already slipped once, from mid-June, and some people doubt they'll ever see the money. "If we don't pay them on the first," Sgt. Blake said, "it's going to be bad."