20538: (Chamberlain) Haiti-Night Patrol (fwd)

[Bob Corbett <corbetre@webster.edu>]

From: Greg Chamberlain <GregChamberlain@compuserve.com>

   By PETER PRENGAMAN

   PORT-AU-PRINCE, March 18 (AP) -- As 38 U.S. Marines quietly prepare
their gear in the dark, platoon commander Lt. Erik Cooper gives final
instructions and reminders.
   "Flak jackets. Helmets. Goggles," says Cooper, 24, over a strong wind in
this makeshift military tent near the airport. "Remember, when you get
complacent is when stuff happens."
   The Marines form part of a multinational security force that arrived in
Haiti after President Jean-Bertrand Aristide fled the country on Feb. 29.
As they prepare for a night patrol, their camouflage fatigues make them
nearly invisible, silhouettes moving under a star-speckled sky.
   Carrying M-16s and 9mm handguns, they pile into seven armored Humvees
equipped with rocket launchers and heavy machine guns. It's 11 p.m., and
they will be out most of the night.
   Their mission is to patrol downtown Port-Au-Prince and parts of Belair,
a stronghold of support for Aristide. Marines have come under attack here
over the past 10 days, apparently by "chimeres," or armed Aristide
militants.
   A night attack wounded one Marine on Sunday. Six Haitians have died.
   "It was sobering for everybody when one of our guys was hit," says Lt.
Seth Mitchell, 24, a sniper. "It was probably just a matter of time."
   Some residents view the Marines as an occupying force and accuse them of
firing indiscriminately when attacked. The Marines counter their targets
always are specific. Those killed were shooting at them, they say.
   Lights off, the Humvees start rumbling to checkpoints.
   Power blackouts in the hemisphere's poorest country keep most streets
pitch black. The dark gives the Marines, equipped with night vision scopes,
the advantage.
   They know that gunmen out after a 10 p.m. curfew have ways to overcome
the soldiers' technological advantages. The militants know where to hide,
and the Marines' presence is advertised by barking dogs.
   "The chimeres are not well-trained, but they are not stupid either,"
says Mitchell.
   To complete their mission of disarming and stabilizing the city, Marines
say they must show Haitians they want to help -- not just make their lives
even more difficult.
   They don't bother some out after curfew: prostitutes, the homeless and
the elderly carrying water in buckets. It also means not frisking women
clearly unarmed, and profusely thanking Haitians for cooperating after
being checked.
   By 3 a.m. Wednesday, the Marines have stopped and searched a half-dozen
vehicles. One truck driver was transporting a load of onions. A few
families were going home after visiting relatives. No one carried weapons.
All were told to go home.
   Suddenly a radio report warns of a red car quickly approaching from the
south. The Marines park their Humvees in a zigzag pattern along the street.
Soldiers take positions and point their weapons at the car, still speeding
a block away. The Humvees' lights come on, their powerful beams lighting
the block.
   Two Marines step out from the shadows and put up one hand while
clutching their M-16s. The driver stops abruptly. Everyone inside is
ordered out.
   Four men in their early 20s emerge with their hands on their heads.
Except for the driver, they are shoeless, wearing ragged pants and
T-shirts. One of the men has bloodied bandages on his forehead and under
his nose.
   A Creole-speaking soldier questions the men as Marines search them and
the car. They say they are coming back from a friend's house, and that the
injured man "had an accident."
   Vehicle and license checks clear, the Marines tell the men to drive
home. Pressing the check can anger them, something U.S. troops want to
avoid.
   "So far we've been treating civilians well," says Sgt. Robert Bailey,
second platoon commander. "We've got to keep them on our side to be
successful."