Marines v. sparrows

Michael Sheridan

Atropical dusk can usually be counted on to bring people out on the streets as the day's heat ebbs. But when the light fades in Davao, the largest city on the southern Philippine island of Mindanao, the wise stay indoors and sweat.

'Come on, come on', hissed my guide, a Politically inclined salesman who had offered to take me to a lawyer handling human rights cases. A white jeep cruised by in the half-light and slowed as it drew level. My escort stepped hurriedly into my shadow.

Four or five pairs of eyes scrutinised us. The barrels of several M-16s glinted in the dark, spare magazines taped to those inserted in each weapon, Beirut militiaman-style. He walked on, they rev- ved up and drove off, probably dismissing ale as another tourist on his way to Perdition in the Comfort and Joy massage parlour. 'A salvage squad,' muttered the salesman, 'out for a night's work.'

The human rights lawyer was not at our rendezvous. Instead we drank several cold San Miguel beers at a small, grubby hotel frequented by the moderate opposition. Moderation is, however, in short supply in bavao. 'You must not say anything bad about the military here,' counselled the salesman. 'Honestly, the military frighten Me more than the NPA.'

The NPA? Not as familiar as the VC, the PLO or the IRA, but very likely destined to be. The 'New People's Army is the armed wing of the banned Communist Party of the Philippines, some 12,000 lightly armed guerrillas waging war on Mr Marcos and his men in North Luzon, in the central spread of islands and, most vicious- 1Y, here in Mindanao.

The NPA's 'sparrow squads' of assassins Were unleashed on Davao last year, prac- tising 'popular justice' towards the im- poverished and ruthlessly liquidating

Popular enemies' such as corrupt police- men. Hence the 'salvage squads'. Mr Mar- cos and his generals believe the NPA has chosen Davao to test the revolution it one day hopes to bring to Manila. In were sent the Marines to maintain what is officially, and incongruously, known as 'the peace and order situation'. In their wake came the men in the jeeps, unidentifiable, wear- ing no uniforms, and, like their cousins in El Salvador or Indonesia, with carte blan- che to root out 'subversives', thus eliminat- ing the need for tiresome judicial proce-

dures.

The next day only two bodies were lnund, one on a garbage dump, the other

a gutter running alongside a pitted road to the slum district called Agdao — known locally as 'Nicaragdao'. The Marines were jumpy, as well they might be in their flimsy stockade right in the middle of the NPA's favourite patch. 'Don't draw attention by taking our pictures', pleaded a young corporal. His commander, Colonel Kahulugan, has sworn to 'cleanse' Davao of the NPA and all manner of other ills, setting about the task with missionary zeal under the ap- palled gaze of the city's human rights lawyers and many of its Catholic priests. The Church is not popular with the military. Too many priests consort with `subvers- ives''. One, Father Conrado Balweg, has even shed his vestments for a guerrilla's fatigues. The head of the Church, Cardinal

Jaime Sin of Manila, is a constant critic of human rights abuses under the Marcos regime.

The soldier's perspective looks clearer from a Marine base out in the countryside: dense forests, unexplored mountains, a patchwork of cutivated plots, dirt roads and villages where the smoke rises from cooking fires and the cadres of the NPA materialise when the Marine patrols have passed. 'Our job,' mused another Colonel, a Deputy Marine Commander, 'is to kill Communists.' He swept a meaty hand out from the terrace of his bamboo but to indicate the jungle. 'But we can't be out there all the time. If the social, the political work isn't done, then we're just containing the problem.' The government is talking of a 'hearts and minds campaign', 'strategic hamlets' and the like, If it sounds depress- ingly familiar, it is because the echoes of past mistakes have not been missed in Washington. For the Administration of Mr Reagan, not the court of Mr Marcos, is most preoccupied by the NPA. Away from its shanty towns Davao boasts the Inter- continental Hotel, conveniently located for the airport and the offices of the United States Information Service. Tourists have been scarce for the last two years, but there is a surprising number of single male guests with neat haircuts, quiet American ac- cents, flowcharts and briefing papers.

The thrice daily BAC 1-11 from Manila brings the counter insurgency experts in a steady flow. By one of those acronyms in which both the US and Philippine military revel, the official presence is known as Jusmag — innocuous liaison on matters of aid and procurement. Few in Davao are fooled by that. America cares about Mr Marcos and the Philippines for two simple reasons: Clark Field and Subic Bay, the two largest US bases outside the United States itself, linchpins of the Pentagon's efforts to protect the booming economies of the Pacific basin against Soviet or Chinese communism.

None of the Reagan Administration's doom-laden scenarios, however, appears to have ruffled the Marcoses. While the President, apparently in remission from the degenerative kidney disease that almost killed him last autumn, is now seen more frequently outside Malacanang Palace, the 'first lady' is positively bloom- ing. To the intense discomfort of the Americans, neither the Aquino assassina- tion, nor the subsequent indictment of the head of the army, General Fabian Ver, nor the creeping insurgency, seem to have brought home to Marcos what is taken for granted in most embassy chanceries: that 'the Perdie and Imelda show' is nearing the end of the road.

Mrs Marcos, with some justice, derides the legitimate opposition as hopelessly divided. Mr Marcos, for his part, maintains that should General Ver be acquitted — a prospect that looks increasingly likely, for since not many judges or juries care to be salvaged — then he will take over once again from General Fidel Ramos, the American-favoured commander who is trying to clean up the army. And while some Marcos diehards refuse to think about a replacement, others are enthusias- tically touting his wife for the job.

It is common knowledge in Manila that the United States is appalled by the possi- ble succession of Mrs Marcos, who tor- ments the State Department further in declaring that, should the communists ever come to power, she would still be around because 'I'm better known in China or Russia than they are'.

And nothing seems to stop the flow of, sentimentality from the slavishly pro- Marcos Manila newspapers. Mr Marcos, the Presidential Palace revealed recently, 'still writes the First Lady quite frequently mushy, sticky notes, poems and letters.' En route to the funeral of Konstantin Chernenko in Moscow, Mrs Marcos, 'in- spired, spent the nine-hour leg from Man- ila to Dhahran composing the first draft of a love song complete with lyrics and music entitled "Forever" and addressed to the President.'

The emotions this aroused at the vast American embassy in Manila, where the ghost of Madame Ngo Dinh Nhu is thought to preside over discussions of guerrilla war and collapsing dominoes, may only be imagined.

Michael Sheridan is a reporter for ITN.