thedrifter
10-30-06, 07:40 AM
New mission for Marines
BY CHIP JONES
Times-Dispatch Staff Writer
Monday, October 30, 2006
Marine sergeant gamely tries to train a ragtag group of foreign soldiers in a remote mountain clearing.
“Good morning!” he says to several dozen men smoking cigarettes, chewing tobacco and slouching on picnic benches. “Your next class is on weapons training.”
After someone belches, the soldiers cheer enthusiastically and lift their M-16 rifles toward the sky.
“Ya! Ya!” they shout.
So begins a 10-day final exercise for the Marine Corps Forces, Special Operations Command's Foreign Military Training Unit. Before shipping out to nations that want help from American trainers, two teams are tested on skills ranging from first aid to bomb detection to setting up radio communications.
Mostly they are tested on not losing their cool.
In this fictional land of Morganistan, the foreign soldiers are slackers and the leaders are on the take.
"Remember, you are undisciplined," Temur Khakberdiev tells his troops. The rock-faced native of Uzbekistan is playing the role of a foreign military leader.
He works for a translation company hired for this exercise that provides fluent speakers of Arabic and Russian.
Before the weapons class, Khakberdiev chastises a couple of visitors for casually approaching him with hands in their pockets. After barking some words in Russian, he explains in English: "It's disrespectful American thing to do."
He is part of a group of Russians, Uzbeks and Ukrainians as well as Americans who are pretending to be foreign soldiers from Morganistan, named for nearby Morgantown, W.Va. They play secular Muslims in an underpaid, often unruly army.
As part of this graduation exercise, the Marine trainers need to shape this rowdy group into a tight-knit fighting force. Normally, it could take months to accomplish.
But the clock is ticking for the Marines because they're under orders to expand the nation's special-operations forces and bolster foreign internal defenses. Col. Michael N. Peznola, the unit's commander, said they would "work with partner nations . . . to help them help themselves."
For many of the role-playing soldiers -- mostly 19and 20-year-olds -- acting like derelict draftees in a foreign army can be a stretch. In reality, they're part of the security detail at Marine Barracks in Washington.
"The first thing you're going to do is make sure the weapon is on safe," the Marine sergeant instructing the foreign soldiers says, glancing about the campsite to see whether his instructions are registering.
He is not helped by a zany-looking man playing the role of interpreter. This translator, part of the private contracting firm, looks like he has been on a bender, with his addled grin and unshaven face.
When he isn't slipping away to nap beneath a tree, the interpreter in a Denver Broncos sweatshirt seems to salute anyone in authority.
"Keep an eye on this guy," says the sergeant's boss, a Marine major who leads the foreign training team. As a native of Kiev in the former Soviet Union, the Marine leader speaks fluent Russian. He senses something's amiss with the interpreter given to him by the Morganistan army.
Language is only one obstacle thrown at the Marines on this foggy mountaintop. The foreign leaders complain about harsh conditions in the tent camp, all the while cadging cigarettes.
As the Marines seek the foreign troops' attention, the gruff foreign leader, Khakberdiev, interrupts.
"Do you have money?" he asks the American. "The people are hungry."
He makes a shoveling motion to his mouth. The young sergeant tries to mask any exasperation at the constant interruptions of his weapons class.
"Do you have a watch?" Khakberdiev asks through the shaky interpreter. "Do you have chewing gum? American cigarette?"
The demands, the language barriers and the culture clash are all part of the exercise.
Capt. Will Eaton is the officer in charge of the training exercise -- he jokingly calls himself "the man behind the curtain." The goal of the exercise is to certify the foreign training units before they deploy abroad.
A team of Marine officers and senior enlisted men supervised two separate groups around the clock.
The evaluators took notes to see how each Marine handled the unfolding problems and obstacles. At the end of the 10-day exercise, they critiqued each man's performance.
Eaton, a combat veteran of Iraq, said the West Virginia highlands offer a good training base, especially for Marines who expect to be sent somewhere with rugged terrain. Even more than geography, though, the exercise focuses on the kinds of cultural and language problems the Marines likely will encounter.
Another key element is sorting out intelligence. Lots of it.
"They have to differentiate between what's applicable and what isn't," Eaton said.
Not applicable: a report of a mudslide 200 miles away.
Applicable: a report of a terrorist attack 50 miles away. "If you're going to make a mistake," Eaton said, "let's make it now."
Down the mountain, at an abandoned factory along the Cheat River, a second group of Marine trainers tries to shape up soldiers from another make-believe country -- Morgan, Arabia. The foreign troops are led by refugees from Iraq, mostly a group of Kurds from the north.
On the second day of the exercise, they are every bit as feisty as their Morganistan counterparts, issuing repeated demands for pay, food and even helicopters.
When a Marine sergeant says he must get approval for pay from the U.S. Embassy, a foreign leader shakes his head and says heatedly through a translator, "You can do it now. You have a radio, you can talk to higher-ups."
A Marine captain adds soothingly, "We understand the importance of the issue." The pay request has been forwarded to the American Embassy. In protest, the foreign soldiers take a long smoke break.
Off to the side, the major in charge of the unit keeps reassuring his foreign counterparts in terms that seem to come straight out of a State Department manual. "We want to continue the relationship and as a show of good faith, we have handled some of the problems you have identified." cigarettes are handed out, and the Marines smoke for a while with their new friends.
But the free smokes don't placate one of the more fiery foreigners.
"We don't need just word," he said. "We need to get things done."
The major nods reassuringly. "I'm sympathetic with the pay issue, and want to see results as much as you."
He concludes by saying in Arabic, "Insha'allah." That is, "God willing."
In this world of military practice and practical diplomacy, the Marines benefit from the experiences of their foreign role-players from the private translation company.
Many are naturalized citizens, and at least one has fought for the U.S. Army in Iraq, losing most of an arm when a roadside bomb exploded.
Dara Miran, a Kurd from Iraq who owns a trading business near Los Angeles, traveled to West Virginia to be one of the private translators. He said he believes economic issues underlie much of the daily violence in Iraq.
On a recent visit there, he told the Marines, he heard of a hotel owner in Mosul whom insurgents bribed to turn his hotel lobby into a torture chamber used for beheadings.
He also told of a Baghdad entrepreneur whose children were starving, so he turned his car into a taxi.
The driver spent all day driving one man around, stopping at five or six places. At the end of the day, the passenger got out and said, "You're unlucky today we didn't see an American convoy."
Then the passenger opened his shirt to display an explosive vest he wanted to use if they came close to the Americans. "We could have had lunch in heaven!" the rider said, according to Miran.
After the first morning of the training, the Kiev-born Marine major reflected on the glut of problems.
When his small unit is deployed in a few months, he will have more men than he does now. "I'm supposed to have 11. I only have seven."
Each team is led by a major -- a senior officer for such a small unit -- with a captain as his No. 2 officer. It also has a gunnery sergeant and other seasoned enlisted men. They are cross-trained so that if one drops out for any reason, the other can take his place. They bring various skills, from Navy corpsmen to engineers to intelligence analysts.
With this much expertise, the major said, he expects his actual deployment to be smoother than his Morganistan adventure.
As evaluators and a visitor took notes, he said with a slight grin, "Quite honestly, when we deploy, I won't have 20 people critiquing them. That probably has something to do with their nervousness."
Khakberdiev, who played the foreign military leader, went through officer training with the Soviet Army. He said last week that the Marines were quick studies.
"I was blown away by the ability of these young American men to absorb so much and perform as a Russian-speaking unit," he said. All of the Marines -- including those from the barracks in Washington learned to sing a Russian marching song.
"I have a very warm feeling for the Marines," Khakberdiev said. "It was amazing how level-headed and cool they were."
Contact staff writer Chip Jones at cjones@timesdispatch.com or (804) 649-6726.
Ellie
BY CHIP JONES
Times-Dispatch Staff Writer
Monday, October 30, 2006
Marine sergeant gamely tries to train a ragtag group of foreign soldiers in a remote mountain clearing.
“Good morning!” he says to several dozen men smoking cigarettes, chewing tobacco and slouching on picnic benches. “Your next class is on weapons training.”
After someone belches, the soldiers cheer enthusiastically and lift their M-16 rifles toward the sky.
“Ya! Ya!” they shout.
So begins a 10-day final exercise for the Marine Corps Forces, Special Operations Command's Foreign Military Training Unit. Before shipping out to nations that want help from American trainers, two teams are tested on skills ranging from first aid to bomb detection to setting up radio communications.
Mostly they are tested on not losing their cool.
In this fictional land of Morganistan, the foreign soldiers are slackers and the leaders are on the take.
"Remember, you are undisciplined," Temur Khakberdiev tells his troops. The rock-faced native of Uzbekistan is playing the role of a foreign military leader.
He works for a translation company hired for this exercise that provides fluent speakers of Arabic and Russian.
Before the weapons class, Khakberdiev chastises a couple of visitors for casually approaching him with hands in their pockets. After barking some words in Russian, he explains in English: "It's disrespectful American thing to do."
He is part of a group of Russians, Uzbeks and Ukrainians as well as Americans who are pretending to be foreign soldiers from Morganistan, named for nearby Morgantown, W.Va. They play secular Muslims in an underpaid, often unruly army.
As part of this graduation exercise, the Marine trainers need to shape this rowdy group into a tight-knit fighting force. Normally, it could take months to accomplish.
But the clock is ticking for the Marines because they're under orders to expand the nation's special-operations forces and bolster foreign internal defenses. Col. Michael N. Peznola, the unit's commander, said they would "work with partner nations . . . to help them help themselves."
For many of the role-playing soldiers -- mostly 19and 20-year-olds -- acting like derelict draftees in a foreign army can be a stretch. In reality, they're part of the security detail at Marine Barracks in Washington.
"The first thing you're going to do is make sure the weapon is on safe," the Marine sergeant instructing the foreign soldiers says, glancing about the campsite to see whether his instructions are registering.
He is not helped by a zany-looking man playing the role of interpreter. This translator, part of the private contracting firm, looks like he has been on a bender, with his addled grin and unshaven face.
When he isn't slipping away to nap beneath a tree, the interpreter in a Denver Broncos sweatshirt seems to salute anyone in authority.
"Keep an eye on this guy," says the sergeant's boss, a Marine major who leads the foreign training team. As a native of Kiev in the former Soviet Union, the Marine leader speaks fluent Russian. He senses something's amiss with the interpreter given to him by the Morganistan army.
Language is only one obstacle thrown at the Marines on this foggy mountaintop. The foreign leaders complain about harsh conditions in the tent camp, all the while cadging cigarettes.
As the Marines seek the foreign troops' attention, the gruff foreign leader, Khakberdiev, interrupts.
"Do you have money?" he asks the American. "The people are hungry."
He makes a shoveling motion to his mouth. The young sergeant tries to mask any exasperation at the constant interruptions of his weapons class.
"Do you have a watch?" Khakberdiev asks through the shaky interpreter. "Do you have chewing gum? American cigarette?"
The demands, the language barriers and the culture clash are all part of the exercise.
Capt. Will Eaton is the officer in charge of the training exercise -- he jokingly calls himself "the man behind the curtain." The goal of the exercise is to certify the foreign training units before they deploy abroad.
A team of Marine officers and senior enlisted men supervised two separate groups around the clock.
The evaluators took notes to see how each Marine handled the unfolding problems and obstacles. At the end of the 10-day exercise, they critiqued each man's performance.
Eaton, a combat veteran of Iraq, said the West Virginia highlands offer a good training base, especially for Marines who expect to be sent somewhere with rugged terrain. Even more than geography, though, the exercise focuses on the kinds of cultural and language problems the Marines likely will encounter.
Another key element is sorting out intelligence. Lots of it.
"They have to differentiate between what's applicable and what isn't," Eaton said.
Not applicable: a report of a mudslide 200 miles away.
Applicable: a report of a terrorist attack 50 miles away. "If you're going to make a mistake," Eaton said, "let's make it now."
Down the mountain, at an abandoned factory along the Cheat River, a second group of Marine trainers tries to shape up soldiers from another make-believe country -- Morgan, Arabia. The foreign troops are led by refugees from Iraq, mostly a group of Kurds from the north.
On the second day of the exercise, they are every bit as feisty as their Morganistan counterparts, issuing repeated demands for pay, food and even helicopters.
When a Marine sergeant says he must get approval for pay from the U.S. Embassy, a foreign leader shakes his head and says heatedly through a translator, "You can do it now. You have a radio, you can talk to higher-ups."
A Marine captain adds soothingly, "We understand the importance of the issue." The pay request has been forwarded to the American Embassy. In protest, the foreign soldiers take a long smoke break.
Off to the side, the major in charge of the unit keeps reassuring his foreign counterparts in terms that seem to come straight out of a State Department manual. "We want to continue the relationship and as a show of good faith, we have handled some of the problems you have identified." cigarettes are handed out, and the Marines smoke for a while with their new friends.
But the free smokes don't placate one of the more fiery foreigners.
"We don't need just word," he said. "We need to get things done."
The major nods reassuringly. "I'm sympathetic with the pay issue, and want to see results as much as you."
He concludes by saying in Arabic, "Insha'allah." That is, "God willing."
In this world of military practice and practical diplomacy, the Marines benefit from the experiences of their foreign role-players from the private translation company.
Many are naturalized citizens, and at least one has fought for the U.S. Army in Iraq, losing most of an arm when a roadside bomb exploded.
Dara Miran, a Kurd from Iraq who owns a trading business near Los Angeles, traveled to West Virginia to be one of the private translators. He said he believes economic issues underlie much of the daily violence in Iraq.
On a recent visit there, he told the Marines, he heard of a hotel owner in Mosul whom insurgents bribed to turn his hotel lobby into a torture chamber used for beheadings.
He also told of a Baghdad entrepreneur whose children were starving, so he turned his car into a taxi.
The driver spent all day driving one man around, stopping at five or six places. At the end of the day, the passenger got out and said, "You're unlucky today we didn't see an American convoy."
Then the passenger opened his shirt to display an explosive vest he wanted to use if they came close to the Americans. "We could have had lunch in heaven!" the rider said, according to Miran.
After the first morning of the training, the Kiev-born Marine major reflected on the glut of problems.
When his small unit is deployed in a few months, he will have more men than he does now. "I'm supposed to have 11. I only have seven."
Each team is led by a major -- a senior officer for such a small unit -- with a captain as his No. 2 officer. It also has a gunnery sergeant and other seasoned enlisted men. They are cross-trained so that if one drops out for any reason, the other can take his place. They bring various skills, from Navy corpsmen to engineers to intelligence analysts.
With this much expertise, the major said, he expects his actual deployment to be smoother than his Morganistan adventure.
As evaluators and a visitor took notes, he said with a slight grin, "Quite honestly, when we deploy, I won't have 20 people critiquing them. That probably has something to do with their nervousness."
Khakberdiev, who played the foreign military leader, went through officer training with the Soviet Army. He said last week that the Marines were quick studies.
"I was blown away by the ability of these young American men to absorb so much and perform as a Russian-speaking unit," he said. All of the Marines -- including those from the barracks in Washington learned to sing a Russian marching song.
"I have a very warm feeling for the Marines," Khakberdiev said. "It was amazing how level-headed and cool they were."
Contact staff writer Chip Jones at cjones@timesdispatch.com or (804) 649-6726.
Ellie