“Mission Accomplished”

December 5, 2008 by Jonathan Movroydis | Filed Under Operation Continuing Promise | 1 Comment 

“There is a warship in Bilwi [Nicaragua], but with medical aid. The ships from the U.S. are coming to help the people, and we have to sincerely express our gratitude.” – Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega.

Within weeks of the USS Kearsarge’s deployment to Nicaragua last August, I was miffed that the U.S. government would invite rogue Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega aboard the ship. But with U.S. forces promoting goodwill, Ortega was compelled to contradict the myths spread by friend Hugo Chavez and other leftist leaders in the region: this mission and greater U.S. presence in the Western Hemisphere is not about “yanqui” hegemony and material interests, but the compassion of the American people. During the four month tour of Latin American and the Caribbean, our military accomplished the following:

• Total patients triaged: 47,043
• Total surgeries conducted: 217
• Dental patients: 4,629
• Animals treated: 5,672
• Construction projects: 22 projects ranging from minor renovations of facilities to building new schools
• Community Relations: 24 projects

On short notice, and as Commodore Frank Ponds reports on his blog, the crew also delivered 3.3 million lbs. in relief aid to Haitians devastated by Hurricane Gustav.

To quote RN, this is “an ideal occasion for all Americans to acknowledge and give thanks for the courage, devotion to duty, and the loyalty you have demonstrated in service to our nation.”

 

Liberal Think Tank Hails GWB’s Humanitarian Policy

December 4, 2008 by Jonathan Movroydis | Filed Under Military, Operation Continuing Promise | Leave a Comment 

The liberal Center for American Progress cites the USS Kearsarge’s Operation Continuing Promise (a humanitarian mission which I was embedded and reported on extensively) as a little talked about success of Defense Secretary Robert Gates’ and the Bush administration’s foreign policy: 

He has been quietly putting this approach into action. In a little-noticed move last summer, the Pentagon sent the USS Kearsarge, an amphibious assault ship, on a humanitarian mission to six countries in Latin America. Instead of rushing Marines into battle, the Kearsarge carried more than 500 humanitarian workers, doctors and development experts — all with the mission, in the words of the ship’s commander, of “influencing generations to come.” When Hurricane Ike slammed into Haiti in September, the Kearsarge steamed toward the desperate island nation, bearing helicopters and boats to help stem the humanitarian crisis.

The Kearsarge mission shrewdly sought to build on perhaps the best foreign policy moments of Bush’s two terms in office: the responses to the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami and the 2005 earthquake in Pakistan. In both cases, the United States used its might to address a pressing humanitarian crisis — and in doing so, built up much-needed trust. 

These Are No Filibusters

November 19, 2008 by Jonathan Movroydis | Filed Under Operation Continuing Promise | Leave a Comment 

The following article is apart of a series about a U.S. Navy humanitarian mission I observed this August and September.

A view of Yulu, Nicaragua from a Marine CH-53 helicopter.

(Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua): Since 1860, the peoples of the Mosquito Coast have enjoyed relative independence, when the British relinquished control and allowed it to operate as a semi-Autonomous Region to Nicaragua proper. However, American intervention in the region would remain inextricable in the near future. During the 1890’s, U.S. firms acquired plantations by the Escondido River and controlled the main commercial hub in Bluefield. During the long era of American political and economic intervention (1909-1934), industry displaced many Mosquito Indians from their lands. It wasn’t until the American backed Somoza military dynasty firmly held rule that the Mosquito Indians realized de facto autonomy. A non-political community, the Mosquitos favored the Somocista’s laissez-faire policy relative to the Atlantic Coast, despite the region’s underdevelopment and high levels of poverty.

Whether its confronting direct or indirect hemispheric challenges, the ever malleable Monroe Doctrine that remained during the protectorate cycle is not dead, as many analysts dispute, rather it’s currently in the process of adjusting to new obstacles as America continues to master its sphere of influence. Conversely, Juan Montecinos of Counterpoint Magazine, argues that Latin America has moved on. Forgotten by Washington, whose interest is virtually occupied in as strategic war in the Middle East and the African war on poverty, Latin America has found its own way independent of the conditional economic prescriptions that arrived with the “consensus.” While inflammatory rhetoric continues to exist from the likes of Hugo Chavez and Daniel Ortega about the hegemonic super power to the North, U.S. influence in the region won’t diminish in the near future. The re-launching of the 4th Fleet and Operation Continuing Promise, for its part, counters those specific claims of diminishment. The USS Kearsarge’s mission on the Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua, and its subsequent missions are certainly not an extension of the aforementioned early U.S. intervention, whether it be from William Walker’s swash buckling exploits or the era of military protection of American investments. One cannot discount the larger purpose for hemispheric re-engagement of our neighbors, but equally one can’t remain dismissive of the philanthropic ethos contributed by the collective altruisms of the sailors, airmen, soldiers, and marines aboard.

“Vital presence is actual absence,” Marine Lt. Colonel Bentley articulated as a contributing element of Operation Continuing Promise. In laymen’s terms, as a facet in the currently successful pacification of Iraq, the U.S. military is apportioning greater use of its time, resources, and manpower for the practice of humanitarian assistance and population security as opposed to the application of kinetics, that is the use of conventional combat operations. Bentley pointed to the MAGTF (Marine Air Ground Task Force) as a fundamental change in U.S. policy: “what MAGTF has done is set up U.S. presence by regional specialization. We are showing a concern for the security of Latin America, and we get training so we are not walking into anything new.” While I’m certainly not privy to the intelligence briefs in the officer’s wardroom, it is worth noting that advance teams had been sent to Nicaragua in preparation for medical and engineering sites on the Atlantic Coast.

A joint military construction battalion restored the community well in Yulu.

Many homes in Yulu are built on stilts to protect from recurring floods.

The Mission in Yulu is an appropriate testament to the U.S. military’s pre-planning. An outskirt of the principal city of Puerto Cabezas, the Navy’s ace team targeted the village as a point of urgency. As one looks out from the decaying Moravian Christian Church at the head of the village, they will notice the Miskito’s continuing deference for communalism that is attached to their inherent indigenousness. Destroyed by last year’s Hurricane Felix, homes are nothing more than ad-hoc bungalows raised by stilts under which floodwaters can pass. Land remained un-parceled, anemic livestock graze wildly where bare foot children play soccer. According to Captain Greg Langham, a veterinarian augmentee with the United States Public Health Service, such conditions have serious medical consequences: “when it rains, cow feces carrying e-coli can be carried to the town’s water source, causing people to become sick.” Along with vet-techs, Captain Langham and his associate Army Captain Ellen Landis launched a process of what can ostensibly be called preventive medicine from a public health stand point. Cows, chickens, horses, and pigs were all given vitamins and de-worming medicine, as well as vaccinations against parasites and fatal diseases such as anthrax, rabies, and liptosporosis. The Navy’s construction battalion also installed a cover and pump on the community’s well, along with 2,000 gallons of sodium chloride so its people could have reliable and uncontaminated water. But the main obstacle appeared to be the traditional lifestyle choice of the Yulu residents. According to Captain Langham, the lack of private property and holding livestock in common makes it hard to ”quantify” and evaluate the condition of the cattle, but steps can be made to “interrupt the cycle” which can be a potential contributor to individual sickness. During one such mission Captain Langham participated on the West Coast of Nicaragua in 2007 and described as a “success story”, cattle inevitably showed signs of shedding the e. coli virus. Captain Langham also explained that another by-product of the mission addresses economic concerns. If the cattle are unhealthy when brought to inspectors, they will ultimately reject it and the community won’t earn any income from the sale of the animal.

Cows are routinely tied around trees to control for immunization.

Army Corps vet-techs immunize a calf.

Veterinarians USPHS Captain Greg Langham and Army Captain Ellen Landis.

U.S. Sailor with children at Yulu. Many of the children were assisting in the animal immunization process.

I saw the medical consequences of communal living first hand when I observed U.S. Navy Lt. Cmdr. and Medical doctor Nathan Uberhoeler treating patients at Yulu’s medical site. He explained the basic medical problems in a two step process. “Step one,” Uberhoeler said. “There is no access to anti-inflammatories or anti-biodics, so basic problems progress. “Step two,” since there is no access to physicians, the people have nobody to treat them when “they get eggs and worms in their bowels.” Uberhoeler treated one girl that had a common rash on her arm that persisted for months. Another girl had headaches that caused her to have blurred vision, and a weak looking man had such intense headaches that it caused his nose to bleed. Augmenting U.S. forces, Canadian medical officer Maximillian Callaghan saw prevalent cough and fever among the community’s children over the three days he was at the Yulu site. “It’s a close knit community, so viruses pass as the children play.”

Navy Lt. Cmdr. Nathan Uberhoeler treats a young patient in Yulu.

I sensed the feeling that America’s servicemen and women wanted to do more than just execute health and humanitarian diplomacy on the Atlantic Coast. And they did. But with limited time and resources, medical prescription, minor surgeries, and health education occupied the majority of patient care. However, the USS Kearsarge’s triage center, adjacent to the ship’s hangar bay, was open for limited major surgeries. Along with surgeons from Operation Smile, U.S. military personnel helped to repair numerous children with cleft lips (cheiloschisis) and palates (palatoschisis), and the elderly were treated for cataracts. On my way back to my state room one afternoon, Navy Lt. Cmdr. Tim Shoppe, a trained pediatrician, stopped to talk to me and appeared visibly encouraged because a man with a large tumor on his back was cleared to board the ship via helicopter. One nurse told me that these surgeries, however minor, have great effect, enhancing the quality of life for those hampered and embarrassed by their disfigurement.

In conjunction with military personnel, Operation Smile treated local children aboard the Kearsarge for cleft lips and palates.

As noted above by the restoration of Yulu’s water source, The USS Kearsarge also carried construction battallions (CB’s) to rebuild key infrastructure in the aftermath of last year’s Hurricane Felix. Captain Thomas DeFazio, an Air Force engineer and OIC (officer in charge) of the on the CP08 engineers, headed the rebuilding of school rooms at Juan Comenius High School and Rubén Dario Elementary, as well as constructing portable classrooms at the city’s government compound. He and his team also worked to repair the city’s electric sources so schools and other social services could meet their vital power needs.

Military CB’s repairing a makeshift classroom at Rubén Dario Elementary.

What I found admirable about DeFazio’s team was that they weren’t content to just work on the sites allocated to them by the Ace Team, instead going out and finding more of the city’s vital needs. Rubén Dario Elementary was one of those sites. As I walked with him through the school, he showed me a small shelter that he re-constructed so children could resume their studies in the overcrowded school. He also noted that he wanted to embark on an ambitious plan to fix the community’s plumbing system. Except the problem lied in the troubling conditions of the source near the central Nancy Bach Hospital; he wasn’t going to put his men at risk as they would have to dig through syringes and other forms of bio-waste.

Children play on a jungle gym built by military CB’s in the revitalized Municipial Park at Puerto Cabezas.

Air Force engineer Captain Thomas DeFazio pictured during the rain-soaked closing ceremonies, also at the Municipal Park.

The USS Kearsarge Choir sings for congregates at a local Moravian Church in Puerto Cabezas.

I have never observed the CB’s so enthusiastic during the mission than when they saw children on the swing sets and jungle gyms they constructed in city’s Municipal Park. It was a re-awakening of sorts. The CB’s also painted and re-landscaped what used to be a haven for “drunks and gangsters” as one Nigerian born sailor working on the project put it. There was a similar sense of idealism in the community relations project lead by Navy Chaplain Quinn O’Bannon, a young Protestant Minister who hails from Starkville, Mississippi. I was fortunate to join his group after I was bumped off an earlier manifest to Nancy Bach hospital earlier one morning. O’Bannon was accompanied by an all black Navy choir who would sing gospel tunes to the central Moravian Church in Puerto Cabezas. The Chaplain himself gave an extemporaneous and vividly diplomatic sermon inspired by Mathew 14, verses 13-21 at the request of the Parish priest, Father Sarmiento:

We might be different countries, but we are all in Jesus’s family.

Eight months ago, I went to Israel, and I and some sailors walked where Jesus walked, and went to a town on the Sea of Galilee, called Copernium.

At Copernium, we went to a church where I saw a picture on the ground of 4 loafs of bread and 2 fishes. The church was built in the same town where the 4000 were fed.

It was a moving experience to walk where Jesus was. It’s one of my favorite Bible stories.

We went on this mission to do what Jesus taught. We made a difference by helping a lot of people.

Even though the government was cooperative, we the people cooperate on a different level.

Jesus showed us how he would give himself for us, and we are still eating from that fish and bread.

This is what we learned in Israel and we learned more in Puerto Cabezas

Because the people welcomed us, we feel as one family.

We are the fish and the bread, we have the gift to build.

He gives us these gifts, so we can help others.

Help us remember Jesus, and that he gives us gifts.

Let us be the fish and bread for each other.

Let us hope that the gifts given are for the glory of God.

We thank you again for welcoming us with open arms and allowing us to be here today.

Navy Chaplain Quinn O’Bannon gives a sermon to the Moravian congregation.

O’Bannon’s words were spoken with an undoubted cadence of sincerity, but dually interesting was the strategic goal of using a religious forum to advance political communication and American values to a people who have animus to their own central government. It was clear they not only appreciated the medical aid, but cherished American presence as an act of love. As we left the church and boarded the buses, locals touched and hugged the humanitarians. Their next stop: Colombia.

USS Kearsarge commander, Commodore Frank Ponds meets the congregation.

Two local women at the Moravian church. Their home was destroyed by last year’s Hurricane Felix.

Yulu locals watch as the military humanitarian force takes off by helicopter.

Some Quick Thoughts About Colombia

Afternoon skyline of Santa Marta, Colombia from the USS Kearsage.

(Santa Marta, Colombia): There were some on the ship that believed that the level of despair in Colombia didn’t match Nicaragua, and because of strong relations with the Uribe government, our presence in the Andean country was entirely political. From my limited time there, it’s true that Colombia had a more robust economic infrastructure. The Santa Marta beaches adjacent to port boasts luxury resorts, restaurants, and bon-fire gatherings that feature traditional Cumbia music. The local hospitals were fixed with a plethora of doctors, nurses, and in-house pharmacies. But beyond the façade of the major commercial hubs of the Magdalena Department, the surrounding area can be characterized as nothing less than squalor. La Palmira Village, for example, is a slum composed of displaced victims of the FARC (Revolutonary Forces of Colombia), a leftist paramilitary group that has terrorized the population and engaged the government in a decade’s long war. But with FARC elements dwindling in recent years, La Palmira now seems like a cycle of collective ineptitude and environmental circumstance. Shelved flat against a fishing lagoon (which is the main staple of the local economy), tropical storms are a daily flood threat to the sludge filled streets. Lack of plumbing and running water left the foul stench of human waste. Because of no organized way to dispose of material waste, trash builds up on the shores and around people’s homes. Every 12 days a truck with a hose attached to the back drives through town, giving each person 1 gallon of water for all of their bathing, drinking, and cooking needs. Many people were obviously unhealthy and in serious pain.

The mired streets of La Palmira Village.

Garbage fills the shores of the lagoons.

Lagoon fishers struggle to get back to shore during a tropical storm.

Medical doctor and Navy Lieutenant Sugat Patel treats a man paralyzed from the waist up.

Before the Americans showed up to work on medical and building projects, the people at La Palmira became self-motivated to clean their facilities and pick up trash. But these spurts of motivation are all too common, explained one woman. She continued to explain that the people sometimes attain the good-sense to work together, but become jaded and disinterested aftertime. Lack of pride often gives rise to bandits from adjacent villages to exploit their non-cooperation and plunder their homes; it becomes a vicious cycle.

A local police station in Santa Marta tallies killed and captured members of the FARC.

Nevertheless American efforts in Colombia were similar to Nicaragua. The U.S. Navy and their augmentees set up medical sites and pharmacies for general, optical, and dental care. Operation Smile continued cosmetic surgery on the triage deck of the Kearsarge, and the construction battalion worked on building playgrounds, strengthening decaying foundations, and installing a water tank for communal use.

Traditional Colombian Cumbia band at a Magdalena hospital entertaining U.S. forces.

A group of Naval Chief Petty Officers pose in front of the hospital. The chiefs were assisting on construction projects.

View of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Departmento Magdalena, Colombia.

Sunset view from a Santa Marta beach.

As for me, when I wasn’t observing the goodwill, I was seeking shelter when the tropical storm dawned in the late afternoon, and when sunny outside, I enjoyed the beauty of Magdalena. My last night in Santa Marta, I spent on the popular El Rodadero beach with Navy special security forces and Canadian augmentees. But I had to leave because the Kearsarge was forced to divert its course from Panama to Haiti. It was late that summer when Gustav was inflicting his wrath.

U.S. Military humanitarian forces call it a day in Colombia, and load up the LCU for the trip back to the USS Kearsage.

Of Hegemony and Humanitarianism

September 27, 2008 by Jonathan Movroydis | Filed Under Operation Continuing Promise | Leave a Comment 

The following article is apart of a series about a U.S. Navy humanitarian mission I observed this August and September.

Hurricane Felix devastated the Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua in August 2007

(Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua): “We were very well received,” said registered nurse and Navy Lt. Cmdr Vicky Hayward upon the U.S. Navy and their augmenters arrival in the Atlantic Coast City of Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua. “Everyone gave us hugs and they were all very grateful.” Passionately idealistic about the transcendent duty of RNs, she continued as she showed me the medical sites at the ad-hoc hospital created at Juan Comenius High School: “You are taking care of moms and dads, it makes you feel good. The staff leaves better and it gives you new found appreciation of being military. As a nurse you provide the same services no matter who you are.” The U.S. run hospital was established to provide general care needs for the Miskito Indians, a people whose homes were devastated last year by Hurricane Felix and largely neglected by the “Spanish” west in Managua.

A U.S. sailor helps an elderly Miskito woman to the optometry center. At Juan Comenius, The Navy and its augmentees treated patients with general family care and education, as well as dental and eye care.

Optometrist Lt. Megan Reiman and other eye doctors from the U.S. Navy treated patients for among other ailments cataracts, glaucoma, and ptyerigium. The Navy also distributed eye, reading, and sunglasses.

Lt. Cmdr Joe Zagame from the USPHS distributed 1000’s in pain relief and comfort care prescriptions to patients in Nicaragua.

Also augmenting Operation Continuing Promise were volunteers from Project Hope.

A U.S. sailor weighs a Nicaraguan child as a part of the general care process. All children were treated in a de-worming process.

I specifically quote “Spanish,” because I would constantly hear it invoked among the Miskitos as it demonstrates the racial and linguistic divide in the region. In providing basic care, the military appropriately prepared for the mission by staffing the USS Kearsarge with Spanish linguists. During the initially stages of the mission, however, they quickly realized that many Miskitos couldn’t speak or were deferential to not speaking Spanish.

The U.S. Navy found two young Mormon missionaries who helped facilitate the three-way translation process with patients and military doctors: Miskito to Spanish to English/English to Spanish to Miskito.

I saw this prideful deference simply demonstrated at the local Rubén Dario elementary school ironically honored for the country’s legendary poet, who notably griped against the increasing American influence in the South at the turn of the 19th century. His poem “A Roosevelt” (1905) is a vituperative lyric on then Pres. Theodore Roosevelt:

Eres los Estados Unidos,
eres el futuro invasor
de la América ingenua que tiene sangre indígena,
que aún reza a Jesucristo y aún habla en español

You are the United States
you are the invader of the future
of the naive America that has Indian blood
and that still prays to Jesus Christ and that still speaks Spanish

On the walls of the classrooms were not the eloquent Spanish verse that dictated from the pen and parchment of Mr. Dario, but rather the alphabet and a numbering system that oddly signifies 6 rather than 10, as the smallest two-digit number. Similarly, the people of the semi-autonomous Atlantic Coast also rejected the markedly animus verbage of the Nicaraguan poet, and received the Americans with collective admiration.

Miskito not Spanish, the language spoken in the Atlantic Coast of Nicaragua, is primarily taught in area schools. Pictured above is the Miskito numbering system in a classroom at the Rubén Dario School.

One of the patients at the makeshift hospital, Truman Rivera, an ardent anti-Sandinista, a proscribed Contra veteran, and self-described “freedom fighter” explained to me that the Miskito people “feel like brothers with the American people.” Recounting of what often seemed like battlefield tall tales (stating that he shot down a female Russian fighter pilot), and others that appeared grotesquely true (he showed me his mangled toes, broken by pliers from his captors in a Sandinista prison), he proudly and repeatedly reminded me that he was named after America’s 33rd President, Harry Truman. “They called me Hiroshima bomb,” he told me in the spirit of his own tough as nails personality in comparison to the President’s decisiveness in ending the Second World War. But Truman’s more sincere admiration came from watching his people receive the essential comfort care and pain medication that Americans can simply purchase on drug store and grocery store shelves everyday. Observing some of the over 11,000 Nicaraguans treated, Truman was reminded of the earlier days of American commercial presence in the region, explaining to me that the doctors who arrived with American workers were so benevolent in treating natives free of charge.

Truman Rivera, a veteran of the Nicaraguan Civil War, discusses with me the political and economic conditions of the Miskito people.

Conversely, in Nicaragua, essential medication is often horded and resold for profit and political expedience. Truman explained that vital medication sent by USAID (United States Agency for International Development) meant for patients on the Atlantic Coast has been resold by local pharmacies, sold with the warning visibly prohibiting its redistribution. “Life is cheap here.” Truman said. “You can only get help if you support a certain candidate, people kill each other for one dollar, one dollar!”

The following week, along with two combat camera men and Nicaraguan force protection, I took a stroll in a market place in central Puerto Cabezas. The marketplace appeared conventional to a poor Latin American country. Women were cooking corn tortillas in the open air, and street vendors stood outside storefronts peddling everything from meat and vegetables to clothing and native jewelry. Far from bustling, it had a ghostly desolateness about it. As if the people were clinging to one last hope of industriousness.

A woman makes tortillas in a market in central Puerto Cabezas. Food and clothing vendors are a main staple of the local economy.

Vendors in central Puerto Cabezas sell local produce.

A man approached us as we departed the marketplace and spoke what was otherwise unintelligible English. Pointing to a wheel on the side of the street, he proceeded to tell us: “when industry was done everything is finished.” Failing to comprehend his vagueness, I pressed him. “Why is everything finished?” The man described the wheel as a memorial and a component of what used to be his community’s timber mill. “The Spanish” in Managua had cut off the North Atlantic city’s main economic engine.

A memorial of the local timber mill. According to a local resident, the Nicaraguan government has cut off the mill’s supply and destroyed the local economy.

While the poet Rubén Dario foreshadowed against what leftists and nationalists like Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega and Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez call American hegemony, as evident of the condition of the poor and isolated Miskito Indians, the role of hegemon and exploiter was not carried by “the yanquis,” but they were certainly more than happy to fill the humanitarian void.

Why Even Bother?

September 17, 2008 by Jonathan Movroydis | Filed Under Operation Continuing Promise | 1 Comment 

The following article is apart of a series about a U.S. Navy humanitarian mission I observed this August and September.

Despite all his anti-American rhetoric, expressing solidarity with Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Hugo Chavez, and his support for Marxist terrorists FARC (Revolutionary Forces of Colombia), Daniel Ortega was invited aboard the USS Kearsarge in early August, a LHD-3 vessel making stops in Latin America and the Caribbean for the Naval Humanitarian mission, Operation Continuing Promise. The reason for the visit hadn’t been dislosed, but Ortega had apparently rejected the offer, and subsequently denounced the U.S. mission. To no surprise, the Cuban Prensa Latina Newspaper was already playing propaganda mill for the Sandinista:

President Ortega’s denunciation was made on the 28th anniversary of the Nicaraguan Naval Force when the USS Kearsarge multipurpose wasp-class amphibious assault warship arrived at the country.

Nicaraguan sources told Prensa Latina that if Washington wants to send medical missions to Nicaragua they should use hospital ships instead of a 225 meter-long ship of the 4th Fleet.

It is not the first time this ship is moved to Latin American countries under the same pretext. It is qualified as a Light Helo Deck 3 with light attack and rescue helicopters’ landing strip.

As a blogging embed on this mission, I can attest to the fact that Mr. Ortega and the Nicaraguan government were spewing a heap of propaganda. During my time in Nicaragua, I saw a spectacular display of humanitarianism in the Mosquito Coast town of Puerto Cabezas, as hundreds lined up for free medical care provided by the United States Armed Forces. At the temporarily improvised hospital, Juan Comenius High School, the U.S. Navy, along with the Air Force, Marines, and a coalition of foreign military medical personnel, were providing an abundance of medical care; from treating children for round worm, providing eye-care for the elderly, to supplying much needed pharmaceutical materials to a people largely neglected by their own health care system. The U.S. Armed Forces filled an immense void, treating over two hundred patients, and distributing thousands of medical prescriptions to poor Nicaraguans.

During my visit to a medical site at Juan Comenius High School, I spoke with patient and a veteran of the Nicaraguan Civil Wars, who was especially grateful for American relief:”I’m happy to see our people getting help.” The tearful veteran explained. “I’m proud of you guys; I mean that from the bottom of my heart.” The veteran was also accompanied by his cousin who received treatment at Juan Conemius High School: “My cousin had calcium build up in her eyes.” He explained. “For twenty years she tried to get treated, she came here, it took one day. That’s America!”

In a document given to a KGB agent in 1979, the Ortega government made its beginning pronouncements against America, calling “American imperialism” the “rabid enemy of all people’s who are struggling to achieve their definitive liberation. But throughout the 1980’s, Mr. Ortega was hardly out to achieve definitive liberation for his people. Through a policy of land confiscation, he displaced the country’s significant Indian population (forcing peasants into 145 settlements), killing and imprisoning over 15,000 people. The Sandinistas also became notorious for their corporal punishment and incessant brutality of political prisoners. In a three year period, Ortega executed 8,000 political dissidents, and subjected many of his over 20,000 prisoners to the most sordid forms of torture. The veteran I was speaking to was one such victim. After showing me the bullet holes on his stomach, shoulder, and arm, he took off his shoes, and described his experiences when he was imprisoned by the Sandinistas. “They pulled teeth out one by one.” He explained. “They broke my feet with pliers.” “I don’t like to say I hate people.” “I fought against communism because I care about my people.”

Ortega still hasn’t relinquished his deference towards authoritarianism and brutality. As recently as 2007, he awarded the odious Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmedinejad two state medals, and through out the 1990’s to today, he continues to be a state sponsor of terror. According to terrorism expert, Douglas Farah, Ortega’s Nicaragua can offer the FARC a suitable pipeline for illicit activity through Central America, just as he granted passports to supporters of Omar Abdul Rahman before the “blind sheikh” orchestrated the first World Trade Center Attack in 1993.

Despite being democratically elected (a minority portion of 38 percent), Ortega is attempting to rig upcoming provincial elections in regions where his popularity is waning. According to Marcela Sanchez of the Washington Post, Ortega has revoked the party status of the two main opposing parties, the MRS (The Sandinista Renewal Movement) and the Conservative Party, and has delayed provincial elections from November to January claiming that the region needs to recover from the devastation of Hurricaine Felix to restore proper conditions for the electoral process. It’s no small wonder Ortega is buying time, as a February CID-Gallup poll showed his popular support at 21 percent, while 43 percent believe he is doing a bad job.

While the armed forces were effectively showing compassion to Nicaraguans, it’s puzzling that the Bush Administration would grant legitimacy to the increasingly unpopular Sandino acolyte. While it doesn’t hurt “to make friends” in the region as articulated by the USS Keararge’s Commodore Frank Ponds, it’s certainly counter-intuitive to triangulate with the leadership of a third world nation championed by belligerence, brutality, and well beyond the bounds of ideological uniformity. Especially when it appears that Ortega may well be on his way out.

“Soft Power” of the Caribbean

September 15, 2008 by Jonathan Movroydis | Filed Under Operation Continuing Promise | Leave a Comment 

The following article is apart of a series about a U.S. Navy humanitarian mission I observed this August and September.

(USS Kearsarge, Caribbean Sea): It was 18:00 on Friday, August 8 at the Coast Guard Air Station in Opa Locka, Florida, a suburban outskirt just outside Miami. Just recovering from a painful red-eye flight from Lima at my oceanfront hotel in South Beach, I was hardly ready to charge those sky chopping SH-60 birds that were about to airlift us how to a sailing LHD in pursuit of the Mosquito Coast. But on with the neck choking flight vest and the ear deafening helmets, I along with a Navy air crew and a globe-trotting NGO worker jumped into those “toilets” at three o’clock. That’s at least what our receiver Marine Gunnery Seargant Basso called them, as the old choppers do leak condensation on their passengers in flight. In his experiences flying, Basso recounted his time on the sister CH-53s, the largest helicopter in the U.S. military. Though those steal air frames won’t “expire” till “they’re put to sleep in Arizona” according to one of the female crew members aboard, they aren’t pleasing to the Navy whites. They aren’t pleasing to the air weary either. If you find banking in commercial aircraft gut-wrenching, try fierce sixty degree turns in descent to your desired destination. But these guys know what they’re doing. The helicopter fell in line with the USS Kearsarge, the large vessel that had previously hit the shores of Bangladesh in 2006 for a relief mission.

The Kearsarge’s Mission in Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua is the first of its kind, at least according to Commodore Frank Ponds, the well-built African American commander of the ship. Ponds distinguished this upcoming mission from earlier excursions such as Bangladesh because of the latter’s responsiveness to a natural disaster. The commander also cited the 2006 Quadrennial Report from the Department of Defense as projecting a new element for “unity of effort” in U.S. defense policy, ostensibly “making friends” in the region. When I pressed the commander on larger strategic motives with regard to regional belligerence he stayed mum, dismissing the Navy’s role as “non-political.”

But the United States’ distribution of economic aid is certainly nothing new, nor is the military’s relationship with geopolitics inextricable. For his part, General David Petreaus’s leadership in the remarkable counter-insurgency in Iraq is grounded in the American tradition of the renaissance military man; one that can be as multi-faceted as a fighter, medic, humanitarian worker, and political mediator. This is evident as early as in Army Brigadier General Leonard Wood’s term as military governor of Cuba following the Spanish American War. After the Spanish surrender of Cuba in 1899, the Harvard Medical School graduate “earned a notable reputation there as an administrator, establishing modern educational, judicial, and police systems and overseeing great advances in sanitation,” as well as bringing the outbreak of yellow fever under control. Cuba, as a result, was effectively leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of Latin America in terms of development. Though this mission is certainly not about the United States exerting direct application of the Monroe Doctrine and commanding power over the impoverished nation, there does emanate an element of “soft power” which one of the free-lance reporters on board persuaded Ponds to admit. More specifically, Ponds does see humanitarian assistance “as a core element of maritime strategy,” and emphasized the collective goal for “Nicaragua to increase its own capacity” as he does “expect to see improvements” before the Kearsarge disembarks to its next port. Ponds also did admit that the mission to Nicaragua is about “strategic communication” and that he hopes to “win hearts and minds” not through the blind hopefulness of positive coverage, but when his crew makes contact and provides essential medical care for patients in Puerto Cabezas.

To much surprise, patients and their supporting family members are to be airlifted to the ship for surgeries, while less invasive surgeries will be done on site. According to a medic on board, HMC Casey Jacobs, on a previous mission to Guatemala, the Navy filled 1,300 prescriptions, and will likely treat patients for lingering conditions that would otherwise persist because of lack of medical care at home. The Kearsarge appears to be built better for such missions. According to one medic, the triage shop on the lower deck dwarfs even larger carriers with four operating rooms and six ward beds as the more nimble ships carry marines who are accordingly airlifted from battle zones.

As apart of the Quadrennial 2006, also aboard the ship are several Canadians, two Brazilians, and two Dutchmen serving as medical augmentees. They were invited to learn the U.S. practice of tropical medicine. Interestingly enough, in my conversations with one of the Brazilian surgeons (with the little Portuguese I know, “Tudo Bem?”), Lt. Ricardo Guimaraes, I found that three years ago, the U.S. Navy approached the Lula government for a larger contingent of Brazilian sailors to participate in soft power missions, but were subsequently turned down as Brazil apparently has no need to conduct such types of missions. Ricardo told me the Brazilians are committed to a policy of neutrality because of their “marriage of inconvenience” with Hugo Chavez’s Venezuela and Evo Morales’s Bolivia, to whom they are respectfully the recipients of petroleum and natural gas. Ostensibly, Lt. Ricardo and his comrade nephrologist Lt. Cmdr. Tomaz Carmo were tokens in a counter proposal: help the United States provide medical care in return for technology transfer to remedy maladies in Brazil. Just as yellow fever, malaria, and dengue are prevalent on the Mosquito Coast, so are they prevalent through the jungles of Amazonia and the streets of Rio de Janeiro (where dengue has infected 100,000 residents according to Guimaraes).

But Lt. Ricardo wasn’t without optimism for future Luso-American relations. Describing his country’s relationship with Chavez and Morales as “a marriage of inconvenience,” he foresees greater contingencies and joint operations between our two nations. After all, Ricardo explained that the U.S. military is conducting training exercises off the coast of the South American country in preparation for operations in Iraq. Lt. Cmdr. Tomaz, for his part, was more exuberant than the reserved Lt. Ricardo, emphasizing to me that of the two conventional schools of medicine in the world, “American and European,” they always choose American (5). The Kearsage’s mission is also being supplemented by Marine and Air Force personnel, who have seemingly found a new respect for the Navy’s work. Accordingly, sailors often get beleaguered with the unfair reputation as “soft.” Though some personnel eagerly await stories from the war zone, life on a ship is truly “a calling” as Robert Kaplan describes. With long tours away from home (this mission is four months); some personnel have spent the majority of their Navy life underway. Whether it’s operating radar machines, assisting in the dangerous procedure of flight ops, or powering the ship in the excruciating heat of engineering, it’s tempting to take at face value the façade of casual hallway briefings and mess gatherings in the wardroom. The work is rigorous, tiresome, and there is always a call to duty at any time during the day and night.

A petty officer I spoke with disagreed. As an old hand, he emphasized “that he has seen at all.” During his tenure in the Navy he described the cultural change as radical and hyper innovative: “they took Tradition out of the Navy’s motto. It used to be Honor, Courage, and Tradition, and then it became Honor, Courage, and Commitment.” He described the heavy reliance on technological power and the authorization of women to board ships in 1994 as poignant factors in assuaging to the culture. “They wanted to create a kinder, gentler Navy,” the petty officer explained. “If the computers ever went down, we (old hands) would be the only ones able to save this ship.” As a prime example, gone are the ancient maritime days of celestial navigation, and in is a new era of GPS monitoring.

Though this new generation of technocrats has become increasingly independent, unlike in Marine and Army life, there is still the traditional segregation in rank structure on a mission due to the size and convenience of Navy vessels. While the Navy maintains distant quarters and fraternize in separate mess halls, the Army and Marines in all ranks “eat, sleep, sh**, and die together.”

Conversely, the Navy’s systematic culture of rank segregation doesn’t displace an inherent culture of pride and camaraderie, as there is a noble respect for enlisted expertise on the ship. I saw this pride first hand in my conversation with the beachmaster, CWO3 (Chief Warrant Officer 3) Richard Barr. Warrant Officer Barr’s responsibility is to lead the security and delivery of cargo, medical supplies, and personnel for the mission.

With the requirement of piloting aircraft and vessels reserved for officers, Barr underlined an important detail about amphibious operations: that the single LCU (Landing Craft Unit) and two LCM 8s (Landing Craft Mechanicals) aboard are to be fully manned my enlisted men.

At about 16:00 on August 11, 2008, the USS Kearsarge dropped anchor in Puerto Cabezas. With Nicaraguan fishing boats creeping towards the ship from the dim-lit shore line, the Navy sent out patrol boats and gunners to stroll the cat walk. The next morning, they hit the shores of the Mosquito Coast.