101st MILITARY POLICE COMPANY
OPERATION UPHOLD DEMOCRACY
PORT AU PRINCE, HAITI
1994-1995

Press here for some scenes from Haiti                                     

101st MP Company Team Configuration

The 101st MP Company employed the "eagle mount" system, created and developed at Ft. Campbell. Two crew served weapons (typically the MK-19 and the M60) were simultaneously mounted on the vehicle's turret. At the time of Operation Uphold Democracy, the 101st were the only MPs in the Army operating with this system. 

The typical weapons mix and configuration for an MP team in the 101st MP Company was as follows: 

Driver: M249 5.56mm Squad Automatic Weapon (SAW) and a M9 Beretta 9mm Pistol.

Gunner: MK-19 40mm Automatic Grenade Launcher, M60 7.62mm Machine Gun, M16A2 5.56mm Rifle, and a M9 Beretta 9mm Pistol.

Team Leader: M16A2 5.56mm Rifle with M203 40mm Grenade Launcher, and a M9 9mm Beretta Pistol.

SFC TERRY LONGSWORTH

"GRENADES AND SNIPERS"

PORT INCIDENT: September 29th, 1994
4th Platoon, 101st MP Company 

Myself, along with my driver PFC Pysher and gunner PFC Frahm, were in the trail vehicle of a two vehicle MP squad convoy. CPL Holloway, his driver SPC Rowe, and gunner SPC Wisecup, were in the lead vehicle. We hadn't been in country a full 24 hours yet. Our mission was to go from the base camp at Camp Democracy (also known as the Light Industrial Complex - LIC) to the Port Au Prince mayor's house and pick up the K-9 teams that we had dropped off earlier. Then we were to return them to the base camp. 

As we were approaching the port, there was a huge explosion and a cloud of dust up ahead of us about 100 yards on the road LA SALINE. I had both vehicles stop and everyone take up defensive positions while I called in a report. Just as I was finishing the SALUTE (Size, Activity, Location, Uniform, Time, Equipment) report, a soft top hummer came through the crowd that was starting to form. There was a finance officer (1LT) and a PV2 female driver in the hummer. He was all shook up and almost balling. The PV2 asked what she should do, so we got their vehicle behind Holloway's and had her start pulling rear security. The 1LT stayed in his vehicle. The PV2 also stated that she thought she had seen some MP's up where the explosion was and that they might be hurt. I told Holloway that I needed a volunteer to go with me to see what had happened. He said that he would go, so I told Wisecup to cover us as we went up towards the crowd that by this time was getting to be around 500 Haitians. 

At this time our rules of engagement were to not have a round chambered. Holloway asked if we should chamber and I told him to go ahead since I had as soon as I saw the explosion. After we checked to make sure that everyone was in position, we started to walk up the east side of the road. There was really no cover for about half a block. We had only went about 25-30 yards up the road when a sniper from a two-story building on the west side of the road, directly across from a warehouse, started shooting at us. We both hit the dirt and rolled to the east to get behind about a foot and a half tall concrete platform, and returned fire towards the roof. This is when we noticed that we were actually hiding behind a concrete platform that had two gasoline pumps sitting on top of it! Gratefully, three years of the UN embargo had probably dried up the tanks. 

Wisecup opened up on the M60 machine gun as soon as me and Holloway had dove for cover. I looked back at the vehicle and saw Rowe handing Wisecup a fresh box of 60 ammo. I looked towards the crowd and there were only about 10-15 people left in the road, and most of them were either wounded or not moving. There ended up being seven dead Haitians. All I could think of was that Wisecup had opened up on the crowd and I was going to jail (All of the dead and wounded were later determined to have come from the initial grenade explosion and subsequent sniper fire). Wisecup had actually shot a huge orange billboard that had a Shasta soda display on it.

After a few more shots to where the sniper was believed to have been located, there was no more incoming rounds and Wisecup was loaded again. We started back towards the warehouse again and at the same time a lot of the wounded were receiving first aid from Rowe who was the Combat Lifesaver for the team. As we approached the building directly to the north of the warehouse, we saw three armed men run in. Neither of us could get a shot off because there was a news cameraman to our front that had to weigh 300 pounds if he weighed an ounce. 

I took up a defensive position on the corner of the warehouse and Holloway tried to open the warehouse's big orange metal doors and found that they were locked from the inside. Holloway came back to my position where he stayed as I ran back to my vehicle to send in an update to the commander. The assistant commander of the 10th Mountain Division was in his bird above us, but we did not know it at the time. I called back to the company and was told to secure the area until CPT Durian (101st MP Company Commander) got there. I went back up to the warehouse with Holloway. There were three dead Haitians in the roadway that we dragged over to the side of the building. 

Our relief got there about thirty minutes from my last SITREP (situation report). They formed up at my vehicle and I went back and briefed CPT Durian about what was happening. Finally we brought the vehicles up toward the warehouse and that is when the QRF (Quick Reaction Force) that the 10th Mountain Division commander had called in got there. A gunner from the QRF opened up on the orange doors with his M249 (which was captured by a CNN camera crew). I was at the corner of the building to the north about 10-15 feet away. Once the door was breached by the QRF gunner the rest of the infantry  went in. They brought out one dead and two wounded Haitians. 

Next we swept the building on the west side of the road where the sniper fire had come from but did not find anyone on the ground level. Before we headed back, me and Holloway went up on the roof. All we found was a blood trail.

(NOTE: A few weeks later during a raid on the FRAPH (see below) headquarters, a warrant [hit] was found for the American MP hummer "EXECUTIONER," which was the name painted on the back of SGT Longsworth's vehicle.)

"SNIPERS, SNIPERS AND MORE SNIPERS"

SHOOTING INCIDENT: October 3rd, 1994
4th Platoon, 101st MP Company

Myself, PFC Pysher, my driver, and PFC Frahm, my gunner, were again in the trail vehicle of a two vehicle MP squad convoy. CPL Carlson, SPC Murphy, his gunner, CPL Cross (one of two SRT snipers deployed with the company) and SPC Goole, Carlson's driver, were in the lead. We were on night patrol down near the port. We had just passed an intersection right where LA SALINE Ave turns to the west towards police station #25 (Carre Foure). We went about a block and then turned around and came back to the same intersection and headed south up a steep road (which was more like an alley). 

We then heard a gun being chambered. It sounded like someone releasing the slide handle on an M16. Everyone in both vehicle shouted "GUN!" at the same time as we started taking fire.  Both drivers punched the accelerators and I immediately called in on the platoon frequency that we were receiving sniper fire. The LT about came unglued. We got up about two hundred meters from the intersection where another alley intersected and turned both vehicle around. Neither one of the gunners had fired a round. I was grabbing Frahm's pants leg asking him where the fire was coming from and he never responded. His leg was shaking pretty good and I figured that he had been hit. The thought of Frahm being wounded was upsetting,  since his Fiancée was coming to Ft. Campbell to visit him when we returned, and she was going to stay at my house. He wasn't hit, but by the time we got to the top of the hill where we stopped he was pretty pissed off that someone had shot at him. 

Cross used the barrel of an M16 to break out the street lights and tried to use his night scope to see what was going on at the bottom of the hill. He could see people moving about, but no one with a weapon. I got back on the radio and gave the rest of the platoon my grid coordinates and told them that the shots had come from the intersection two hundred meters to my north. The rest of the platoon started to show up at my location and wouldn't you know it, but the LT (Willis) drove up the same alley that we had just gotten shot at. I had a TAZ (Tasmanian Devil from the Looney Tunes) stuffed toy in my vehicle, with a 101st MP brassard on it's arm, hanging from the vehicle's windshield wiper assembly. Pysher told me that he did not know if it was good luck or bad since both times the doll had been in the vehicle he had gotten shot at. He said that it might be good luck since noone had gotten hurt, or bad luck because we seemed to be the only ones getting shot at.

"ELEC-TRICITY, E-LEC-TRICITY"

4th Platoon was at Haitian President Aristide's house pulling security when a tropical storm hit Port Au Prince. The storm wrecked havoc on the city, killing scores of civilians throughout the night. SGT Noe was pulling duty as the Sergeant of the Guard (SOG) for the platoon. PFC Nava was in one of the sandbag guard towers on the south east corner of the property. There was not too much room in those towers to begin with, and nothing to sit on. 

Well, PFC Nava was sitting in there pulling his guard duty. The tower on top of the guest house (a half-finished structure adjacent to President Aristide's house) where the platoon was living had already collapsed, so several of us were up there trying to get the sandbags set back up. All the while it was raining like all Hell. There was a huge BOOM as lightning hit somewhere really close, so we hurried and got the tower finished and back down off of the roof. 

SGT Noe and I were addicted to coffee, so we went to the SOG table on the front porch to get some from the pot. SGT Noe said that he was going to check on the rest of the towers since he could not get them on the TA 312 (a field phone connected by rolled-up wire). I told him since I was already soaked to the bone that I'd do it for him. The first three towers were fine, but none of the phones were working which seemed odd. When I got to PFC Nava's tower, he was standing on the top of the ladder. I asked him why he wasn't in the tower and he didn't answer. All he was saying was mumbles. Well, come to find out he was sitting on the field phone wire when the lightning bolt struck the wire somewhere in the yard. Shocked the shit out of him! Guess that we shouldn't have laughed since it really wasn't funny, but damn did we laugh.

"RIOT THE UNBEATABLE HIGH"

RIOT AT POLICE STATION #25: October 13th, 1993
4th Platoon, 101st MP Company

Let me set the mood for this one. On 12 October we had two full platoons plus the commander and his security cell at police station #25 in Carre Foure. There was a huge riot going on. CPL Carlson's team was in the alley behind the police station and ended up getting eight armed Haitians coming at them. They confiscating five M1 "Garand" .30 caliber rifles with over two hundred rounds of ammunition, one 9mm pistol, four hundred and fifty armor-piercing rounds, two notebooks and several knifes. This was the same day that several of the police stations in town had been burned. 

4th Platoon spent the night at the Royal Haitian Hotel, just down the road from the police station, after the crowds broke up in the evening. The morning of the 13th, my team and CPL Carlson's ended up back at police station #25 at about 0845 hours. There were only a few Haitians there throwing stones towards the police station, and the Haitian "police" were throwing them back. Throughout the morning we ended up using pepper spray (Oleoresin Capsicum or OC) to keep people off of the walls. We had both team's vehicles parked blocking the gate. There were a lot of brass showing up that day, including Viper 6 (4th Platoon were known as the "Vipers" and the number "6" always designates the commanding element; in the case of 4th Platoon their platoon leader) who stayed about thirty minutes. 

There was one strand of concertina wire around the station on the surrounding concrete wall. Several times the Haitians tried to push it off of the west wall with sticks, so we would pepper spray them back away from the wall. The rules of engagement were to use the same force that was being used against you. At about 1245 hours, the wire came down on the west side and about two hundred Haitians stormed into the compound. I told Carlson to pop a CS (ortho-chlorobenzylidene malononitrile or "tear gas") grenade which he promptly hit a Haitian with. Things get a little fuzzy here, but I do remember there were no shots fired. Myself, Carlson, Murphy, and Frahm were near the front door of the police station so we basically just clubbed the hell out of whoever came near us (police or Haitian). This lasted for only about two minutes. We did not get a chance to put our masks on, but I really didn't notice it (the CS) until the Haitians were leaving the compound. 

CPL Carlson and some other MPs put the concertina wire back up and I went to the vehicle to call in the SALUTE report. I was talking to the TOC NCO (Tactical Operations Center Noncommissioned Officer). When I stated that I had used CS to deter the crowd, CPT Durian personally came up on the net (radio frequency) and asked "Who authorized you to use CS?" I told him "I DID." He went nuclear, saying that only the company commander could authorize that and what were the wind conditions like and did we warn the police ahead of time. I again told him what the situation was and that there wasn't time to call and he said that he would be there ASAP. 

While he was in route, LT Willis (Viper 6) called from the base camp on the platoon net and said that he was in the TOC when I called in the SALUTE and that the commander was really pissed. He asked if I needed him to come out. I told him that there was nothing that he could do so he could just stay at the base camp. Again he stated that he would back me up no matter what, so I figured I was going to get screwed. When CPT Durian got there, he had the Sergeant Major with him, and SSG Loeshner (the second SRT sniper and CPT Durian's security team leader) and another team. The Captain was pissed to say the least. He was screaming that I was only a sergeant and that I couldn't make those kind of decisions and he was in charge now. 

I think that SFC Rice's platoon (3rd Platoon) showed up at about this time. The Sergeant Major came up and asked me what happened, so I told him the story and he basically said "Good Job, you were here and you made the call." CPT Durian called in a SITREP (Situation Report) to the battalion (the 519th MP Battalion out of Ft. Polk, Louisiana), then came back for seconds on the ass-chewing. He asked for a blow by blow accounting, so I finally got a chance to tell him what had happened. He said that "I should have pulled away from the station when the crowd broke through." I asked him, "If I am supposed to leave if the crowd breaks through, then why the hell am I here in the first place? I thought that my job was to secure the police station from the crowd and not let the police get to the crowd." He basically just walked away after that, and that is the point where I totally lost all respect for the man. He told me to round up my squad and get back to the base camp. I did. To this day when I hear from people from 4th Platoon down in Haiti, they still say that they can't believe I said "I DID" to CPT Durian. LT Willis loved it.

SSG MICHAEL B. SHIMER

I was in 3rd Platoon of the  101st Military Police Company (Air Assault) from Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. The 101st MP Co. deployed to Haiti in September of 1994 under Joint Task Force (JTF) 180 along with the 16th MP Brigade (Airborne), 503rd MP Battalion (Airborne), 519th MP Battalion, and the 10th MP Battalion. 3rd Platoon was led by 2LT Atchison and SFC Rice.

Our duties initially included area security in various sectors of Port Au Prince and critical site security at several locations, including: Haitian President Aristide’s residence, the Haitian National Radio station, and the Hotel Christophe where the United Nations was headquartered. We also provided security escorts for Honorable William Perry, the Secretary of Defense, for the Under Secretary General to the United Nations, and other various VIP’s. The mission required a break down of operations to the team level and the platoon was scattered to the four winds working long hours on different missions. We were involved in several tactical operations, including raids on FRAPH (Front Revolutionary for the Advancement of People Haitian) headquarters and on the Haitian Navy Base in Port Au Prince.

After the return of President Aristide, 3rd Platoon assumed duties at police stations around the city and began the process of re-training the Haitian police into an organized police force. We operated the desk at the stations with our International Police Monitor  counterparts, provided law enforcement patrols and responded to calls for service throughout our sector of the city. We began at precinct 25, in Carre Foure. In mid to late November, we assumed duties at Precinct 2 in Petionville. Petionville is the upper class section of Port Au Prince, with modern stores and restaurants, and the center of the pro-Cedras / FRAPH support.

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP"

One evening, while I was working on the desk with a Haitian sergeant and an IPM interpreter, we received a call for assistance from a residence in our sector. The call was in reference to an armed home invasion in progress, involving a gang the locals called “zanglandoo” (literally, broken glass). Two patrols were dispatched, along with an IPM patrol from the St. Vincent IPMs. The patrols, responding in MP HMMWVs (Hummers) and a CUCV (Chevy Blazer) from the IPMs, could hear gun shots as they approached the location. The gang members were attempting to scare the guards in the house to open a locked metal gate that kept the gang out and the guards locked in. When the patrols arrived, the gang members were only feet away, down a hallway and around a corner, which led to the back yard. When the MPs challenged the gang, they decided to jump a back wall and down an approximate 40 foot embankment instead of face the MPs in a fire fight. The MPs secured the scene and began a crime scene investigation. Dozens of shots had been fired into the house, however no one had been injured. The guards had returned fire at the gang and it was unknown if any of them had been hit. Around six O’clock in the morning, an old Haitian man came stumbling up on the scene. There was initially some confusion if the man might be a member of the gang and had been shot during the confrontation. Through the interpreter, it was discovered that the man had come out of his own shack, just down the road from the scene, early in the morning to take a leak when he heard a group of men coming up the road. When the men saw the old man, they pulled a gun on him and told him to “put your arms up.” The old man did as he was told and the gunman promptly shot him through one forearm. The old man grabbed his arm in pain, crying, thinking the next shot would probably be to his head. The gang members laughed long and hard at the man’s discomfort, then ordered him to put his other arm up. Knowing that he would surely die if he refused, the old man raised his uninjured arm and the gunman shot him again through the forearm. With a hole in each forearm, the old man collapsed from the pain and the gang walked on toward their intended target, laughing at the old man’s misfortune. The MPs dressed his wounds with pressure dressings and took him to the general hospital downtown for further treatment.

The hospital was built by the United States during the occupation of the 1920s, and hasn’t seen many improvements since. There is no emergency medical service in Haiti and the best service comes from private church-run hospitals that only accept cash or insurance (cash being the preferred method). While dropping off the old man, the patrol was flagged down by an excited cab driver about a woman having a baby in the back seat of his cab. Receiving no assistance from the hospital staff, the MPs went to assist the woman as best they could. The baby had already been born, but was unfortunately dead and appeared to have had it’s head crushed during the delivery. A sad incident but a typical day on patrol in Port Au Prince.

"MR. LUCKY"

Another night that I was working the desk sergeant position, we received another call for an armed house invasion in progress. A tactic of the "zanglandoo" is to follow a passenger from the airport to their destination, looking for people wearing nice clothing and jewelry, and carrying nice luggage. They will then return that evening and steal what they can, usually leaving no living witnesses. This evening, they followed a gentleman who hadn't been home since before the coup and had been living in New York with relatives. When the gang busted in, they were met by this individual wielding a machete. He managed to hack one of the gangsters before another shot him in the gut. The gang then fled but the responding MPs were now hot on their trail. A blood trail plus the sounds of yelling and small arms fire gave the MPs a means of staying in pursuit.

As the MPs were chasing the gang, they ran upon a man lying dead half off his porch into the street: a clean 9mm bullet hole between his eyes. The MPs didn't stop long enough to determine what happened in that situation, the first priority was to attempt to stop the gang from escaping or causing more harm. Deadly force (that force that, when used, will most likely cause death or serious bodily harm) would have been justified and utilized to stop these thugs from getting away and most likely killing again. The trails that weave between the mud, plywood and tin shacks of a Port Au Prince "boudiousville" (AKA slum) are narrow and maze-like and assisted the gang in their escape. They had a vehicle waiting for them and made their getaway moments before the MPs were on them. Returning to the scene of the second victim (the first had been taken to a private hospital and recovered from his wounds), it was discovered that he had only come outside to see what all the commotion was about and had stuck his head half way around the corner of his porch wall when the gang, running and shooting, came into view. One of the gangsters yelled at the man and fired, on the rum from a distance of approximately 15 meters. With only half of his head exposed and the shooter running and firing without aiming, the man was struck dead between the eyes. His family saw him fall into the street from inside the porch. The MPs nicknamed him "Mr. Lucky" because he was arguably the unluckiest man in Haiti that night.

"FRIED CRISPY"

We recovered many bodies while working patrol in Port Au Prince. The Petionville area was immense: running over three mountain ranges and ending up at the small mountain village of Kenscoff. The elevation change runs from around 800 feet above sea level in Petionville, to near 5500 feel above sea level in Kenscoff. The difference in degrees could be from 95 degrees F in Petionville to 75 degrees in Kenscoff. You lost all radio contact with the station when you crossed over the first mountain (about 15 minutes out). The drive to Kenscoff took almost an hour and a half one way.

We received most of our calls for service by people who walked in off the street. Most people didn't have access to a telephone and the Haitian phone system was unreliable at best. We received word of a body in a culvert near Pla Boule, over the mountain toward Kenscoff. We headed out with my team (SPC Noel Harris, my driver, and PFC Cutwright, my gunner), two Haitian police and a team of Bangladesh IPMs. We arrived near dusk and had to hike about a mile into a valley, along a foot path, when we came upon the culvert. Cutwright stayed with our vehicle, along with the Bangladesh IPMs (who were as scared of the dark as two year old kids). We found the body half way through the culvert. He had been electrocuted, with his had still grasping the wire. The wire was bare copper, which ran from a power line on the top of the close mountain crest to a small village on the other side of the valley. Many Haitians stole their power by rigging lines like this and were not very concerned about the safety of the operation. We had to use flashlights to see around inside the culvert. When I shined my Mag-Light onto the ground near the dead man's face, I noticed that the force of the electricity had blown a good number of his teeth out of his mouth, which were now lying on the ground in a disconnected smile in front of his face.

We had the good mind to bring the vehicle's pioneer tools (shovel, axe and pick axe) along with a body bag and liner with us, so we started by cutting the wire on either side of the dead man. We then had the Haitian police put the body into the liner and bag, and had a number of bystanders help haul the body out of the culvert and up the valley to our vehicle. When we got back to the HMMWV, a debate ensued as to who (us or the Banglas) would transport the stiff to the morgue at the general hospital. The Bangladesh Lieutenant was having nothing to do with our argument that we didn't have room in our vehicle for the five of us (as stated above) plus all of our gear. Besides, we had done all of the sweating dragging the stiff out of the culvert, why shouldn't the chicken shits share a little of the work? The LT was saying, "No, no, no!" (sounding like the convenience store clerk from The Simpsons), "My driver is standing beside himself! Our religion doesn't allow us to handle the dead....." and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Well, Cutwright had heard enough. Cutwright is a big fellow from West Virginia, about 6'3" and 240 pounds, with a very short temper. Cutwright grabbed the bag and tossed it into the back of the Bangla's CUCV (causing the LT's driver to leap from the truck like he'd been stuck by a hot poker). We gave them the one finger salute, a hardy "fuck off" by way of good-bye, and took off, with the two of them screaming in 7-eleven lingo and jumping up and down like kids on a trampoline. I was happy.

"GANGLAND, HAITIAN STYLE"

As Military Police in Haiti, we were called upon to perform numerous functions out of our normal range of duties. We were mandated to investigate all Serious Incident Reports (SIRs) which typically included murders, rapes, armed robberies, armed burglaries, aggravated assaults, etc. As a former civilian police officer, I was tasked with spending a good amount of my limited time off returning to the scene of crimes to conduct more thorough investigations (normally handled by CID agents or Military Police Investigations, MPI). I don't remember seeing one CID (Criminal Investigation Division) agent the entire time I was in Haiti. As for MPI, there were a few certified investigators within our company, but no one is assigned duty as an MPI in a division Military Police company. MPI falls under the purview of the PMO (Provost Marshal's Office) which doesn't deploy with battalions and brigades.

While on one of these investigations, I was tasked to interview a family about the death of their father the night before. This was my first encounter with the so called "zanglandoo." I departed the Haitian Police Headquarters, Precinct 30/40, with a Haitian detective and an MP team for security. When we arrived, I began to take notes about the location. The family lived in a one story cinder block home, set against the dirt road in front, with a store front on the street where the family made it's living. Most every one who can afford it in Haiti has iron bars on their windows and a heavy iron gate at the front entrance. This was the case here. The gate had been pulled from it's hinges, possibly by a chain from a truck or other large vehicle. The family was inside: a quaint, poor dwelling but clean and livable.

The mother was tending to her daughter, about 10 years old, and her son, maybe 7. The story through the interpreter went that the gang had come to the house the previous evening around 9 O'clock. The father had refused to open the main gate for the robbers and it took them a little while to force it open with a vehicle. The house had been surrounded and the gang had placed look-outs with whistles to warn if any help was coming. Once the gangsters got inside, they began beating the family with fists and pistols, along with loading the store's stock into their truck. The gangsters then made the father lie on a bed next to his son, who was pretending to sleep. One of the gang then pulled the corner of the bed's mattress up over the father's head and shot him through the padding. Bone fragments and brain tissue, along with blood and spinal fluid, still stained the mattress and wall. The bullet had travelled all the way through the father's head and struck the cement wall, leaving a 1" chip missing. The ball was found under the bed.

The gangsters then commenced to rape the mother and daughter in the kitchen. Both were badly beaten, between the men taking their turns with them. The gangsters then left, with the sounds of whistles piercing the night air. Minutes later, the distinct rumble of HMMWVs broke the silence, with the sounds of a widow and her violated daughter. The boy held my hand until I had to leave.

"VAMPIRES, MUMMIES AND THE HOLY GHOST"

Another unfamiliar job for MPs in Haiti was corrections. At every police precinct and at the National Penitentiary, MPs had the task of reforming the Haitian's internment procedures and to improve the living conditions for the inmates. Before the US Army's arrival in country, Haitian jails and prisons were deplorable. The only prisoners who were moderately well taken care of were the military prisoners at the National Penitentiary. An article titled The Case of Captain Lawrence P. Rockwood by Dan Coughlin underscores these harsh conditions prior to an during the first phase of our arrival, and an Army MI Captain's attempts to improve those conditions. Some of the MP companies with responsibilities at Haitian police precincts shirked this responsibility, leaving the prisoners in an environment almost as deplorable as before they arrived. This was not the case with the 101st.

Our company commander, CPT Randy Durian, was a walking fire storm. He put the fear of God into the Haitians (and some of his soldiers) on a daily basis. Some of CPT Durian's most memorable sayings that come to my mind are, "put your dick beaters and that weapon and throw some lead down range" at qualification ranges, and, "you should be simultaneously shittin' and pukin' when you cross that finish line" to soldiers who came in a little slow on our weekly commander's "mystery run." In Haiti, CPT Durian demanded that his translator, a US Army Staff Sergeant of Haitian descent, translate everything he said literally. This proved to be a problem, to say the least, with the way CPT Durian communicated.

When 3rd Platoon first arrived at precinct 2 in Petionville, the system put in place by the previous MP company (I won't name any names) was, shall we say, less than acceptable. There were no facilities or means for the prisoners to wash, relieve themselves, or exercise. There were no records kept of who was in the jail, for how long or what for. CPT Durian immediately demanded to see this kind of documentation, and, when the Haitians failed to produce any, to the frustration of the Haitian police, set most of the prisoners free. We then set about making the Haitian police clean the jail of feces, urine, and other unidentifiable body fluids. They didn't like that one bit. But, like they say, thou hasn't to like it, thou just hast to do it.

Meanwhile, the MPs set about improving the overall security of the facility. We strung triple strand concertina wire along the top of all the walls surrounding the break area and acquired series 200 security locks for all of the doors and gates. I took on the task of developing a security level system which dictated how many guards were required for how many prisoners at whatever level or location the prisoner was at. Basically, the more locks the prisoner was behind, the lower the security level and number of guards required. I am not trained as a "cage kicker," as street cops call corrections officers, but it isn't rocket science. This made our jail one of the most secure facilities in Port Au Prince.

One day, an escaped prisoner from precinct 25 (guarded by our 4th Platoon) in Carre Foure, who had been captured by some civilians and returned to custody, was transported to our station for confinement. When he arrived, you could instantly tell he was a cocky fellow. He was in hand irons and was saying something to the Haitian desk sergeant which upset him slightly. The interpreter stated that the man believed he had "black magic voodoo powers" and that he couldn't be held in any jail. He further stated that the "center" of his power was a gold ring that was grown into the front of his hair. He said that he could change into smoke and float through the bars to the outside. My driver, SPC Harris, upon hearing this, promptly took out his Gerber pocket tool and, with the knife, cut the ring out of the prisoners hair. "No more power," Harris said to the man. This shook him up a great deal, to say the least.

Because the man was an escape risk, and we didn't want him stirring up the rest of our jail's population, he was put in his own cell on a mostly deserted wing of the facility. The other prisoners in our custody were actually happy to be there, under the circumstances. We ensured they were fed three times a day, could take breaks out in the sunlight a minimum of 30 minutes each day, and could shower and use the restroom as needed. Our escape artist was not at all happy, however. He constantly moaned throughout the day and into the night, pass lights out. Having had enough of his wailing, I came up with a plan to "scare him straight." In my HMMWV's team box, there was some household rubbing alcohol and some chem lights to help with my plan. The hallway running in front of the cells was pitch black at night. I poured rubbing alcohol on my hands and put some of the liquid from one of the chem lights in my mouth. When I stood in front of the prisoner's cell, he became quiet. I spit glowing green liquid between the bars and said, "Mwen se lougaou, Mwen se diab blan!" which literally means I am a vampire, I am a white demon. I then lit my hands on fire with a pocket lighter and stuck them between the bars. You can only let the alcohol burn for a few seconds before you have to put it out. Kids and stupid adults, don't try this at home! The effect was instant. His eyes grew as wide a saucers and I thought he was going to try to claw through the cell's walls! I put my finger to my lips and went shhhh and went back outside. We laughed for hours about the joke we played on him. But he was the quietest prisoner in the jail from that day forward.