ENDLESS WAR

WORLDS APART

Officials Have Similar Backgrounds, But Divergent Plans Of Attack

WASHINGTON -- The two men hardly know each other, but the gods could have
put them on parallel paths. They were born a year apart at the start of
World War II, one in Taunton, the other in Quincy, both from middle-class
stock.

Over the years, they built remarkably successful careers in public roles.
In 1996, both resigned for new challenges in Washington.

Now, their paths cross for the first time, on an issue taking place some
2,500 miles from their birthplaces -- the Clinton administration's $1.6
billion plan to fight the drug crisis in Colombia.

They are Barry R. McCaffrey, the drug czar from Taunton, and William D.
Delahunt, the congressman from Quincy. They are two Roman Catholics of
Irish descent, each with a head of snow-white hair, a healthy-sized ego,
and the stamina of a person decades younger. Each believes he knows best
how to tackle the exploding drug business in the most troubled country in
the Americas.

Each believes the other is wrong.

Welcome to today's war on drugs, where the epicenter isn't in the humid
fields of coca in Colombia or the dens and living rooms of drug users in
Boston or Quincy or Taunton or any American city or town. It's here in the
nation's capital, and it is unfolding in faceoffs between people like
McCaffrey and Delahunt; cigar-smoking Colombian generals and gutsy human
rights investigators; shiny-shoed lobbyists and placard-waving protesters
warning of an endless war, perhaps another Vietnam.

Congress began hearings last week. The administration and the Republican
congressional leadership both are pushing for a deal soon, an uneasy
alliance but one that enhances chances of passage.

Yet there are no guarantees on the outcome, expected as early as next
month, nor even on the makeup of an emergency aid package.

At stake is arguably America's most daring gambit in its nearly
three-decade-old war on drugs, a potential alliance with a military that
not long ago had been widely discredited due to human rights abuses and a
fight that some fear could evolve into something much larger than a US
support role.

That observation comes from retired Lieutenant General William J.
McCaffrey, 85, an English High graduate, former inspector general of the
Army, and father of the drug czar.

"There are all sorts of hazards ahead on this one," the elder McCaffrey
said one day last week in his Alexandria,Va., home. "Everyone needs a
little wisdom now as you're working your way through the minefields."

Much depends on who will be doing the navigating -- his son or Delahunt.

Barry McCaffrey, 57, the youngest four-star general in US history, a man
who served four tours of combat duty, has seized the lead role in selling
the administration plan that bears hallmarks of a military strategist. His
idea is to give the Colombian military enough airlift capability to support
three US-trained antidrug battalions in a push into the heartland of drug
cultivation, the guerrilla-controlled Putamayo and Caqueta regions south of
Bogota.

Delahunt, 58, the Norfolk County district attorney for 21 years who made
his mark with the innovative ways he handled domestic abuse and civil
rights cases, has assumed the role of the anti-McCaffrey, one of the
leading behind-the-scenes organizers of Democrats and moderate Republicans
who oppose a military solution. His idea is to send a blitz of diplomats to
push the peace process between the government and the guerrillas, put more
money toward new crops and a better judicial system, and spend much more
antidrug money on treatment of addicts at home.

The story of how each man arrived at his position offers a telling glance
into the force of their character. And it indicates how the complex
situation in Colombia can inspire divergent solutions.

Delahunt, the son of an office secretary and a sales manager for US Rubber
Co., has always wanted to see things for himself.

Not long after his election to Congress in 1996, he readily accepted an
invitation from Representative John Conyers Jr., the 18-term Michigan
Democrat, to accompany him on a trip to Haiti. The visit inspired Delahunt.
He took an interest in other international issues, focusing in particular
on Venezuela and Colombia -- in part, he says, because he saw long-term
economic opportunities for local companies in both places.

Colombia fascinated him for another reason closer to home: As a prosecutor
he had helped send hundreds, if not thousands, of people to jail on drug
charges. Now he had a chance to explore the drug problem at its root.

"After 21 years of seeing people destroy themselves and destroy those
around them, it really makes this more personal for me than for others," he
said in a recent interview. "I've seen the abuser, I've seen families, I've
seen friends, I've seen victims of the abusers. It's such a human story,
not just about dollars and cents."

He first traveled to Colombia early last year, and has returned twice
since, including one risky visit deep into territory controlled by the
Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, the main guerrilla group known as
the FARC. To date, he has been the only US congressman to meet with them.

For Delahunt, the first two trips convinced him that the solution in the
drug war didn't rest solely with a military push. The country was too big,
he believed, and the guerrillas too well-financed and equipped as a result
of the taxes they levy on the drug trade. A solution, he thought, could
come only as a result of a deal ending the nearly 40 years of civil war.
But how could the United States help facilitate a deal?

That was on his mind last month when he traveled to Colombia for a third
time and spent a day in the heart of the southern coca-producing region. On
a flight from Bogota over the snow-covered Andes Mountains, Delahunt
peppered a US embassy official with questions about the dangers to
Americans in the war on drugs.

Between 100 to 200 US military officials are in Colombia each day, US
administration officials say.

"We had a plane shot up yesterday full of holes," said the official, who
asked not to be identified, referring to an OV-10 aircraft used to spray
pesticides on illicit crops. "We take fire every day."

The official described the routinely risky missions for US and Colombian
officers in which they randomly check coca or poppy fields after spraying
them. "We go in with several helicopters. We pick out a field, and 50
Colombian jungle commandos go first and secure the border and all four
corners. We then go down and take samples and rate the damage. A gunship is
flying low overhead in case guerrillas come near, and then we get the hell
out of there," he said.

"Do you have anywhere near enough assets to fight this war?" Delahunt asked
him.

"No, sir," the official said. "Not even close." Delahunt's plane landed at
the Larandia military base, near the southern town of Florenzia. There,
Colombian military officers briefed him on fumigation, coca production, new
types of coca imported from Peru, and the profile of the typical coca farmer.

"Who owns these large tracts of coca fields?" Delahunt asked.

"Most of them are squatters, growing coca on state land," said General
Ismael Trujillo, Colombia's antinarcotics director.

But what about those who grow coca on their own land, the congressman
asked. "Sanctions may have an effect on them," Delahunt said.

"Very few people have land titles," said Maria Ines Restrepo Canon,
director of the National Plan for Alternative Development. "And those who
do live in areas where there are no health clinics, electricity, or
schools. We prefer to find alternative development for them. We don't put
them in jail." Delahunt asked the base commander, Lieutenant Colonel Jorge
Amor, about cracking down on paramilitary forces, who have a long record of
human rights abuses and of ties with the Colombian military.

"Will you fight them?"

Amor stiffened. "If I am ordered to do it, I will do it," he said. When
Delahunt asked about the guerrillas, the commander noticeably relaxed, but
then made an observation that chilled Delahunt:

"The FARC have borrowed many techniques from the Viet Cong," he said. "They
have paths just like the Ho Chi Minh Trail. You can't find them in the jungle."

Delahunt, the color drained from his cheeks, thanked the commander as his
party prepared to leave. Once in the air, the congressman's large frame
slumped against the plane window. The comparison with Vietnam was deeply
troubling.

"It's a bottomless pit," he said, looking out at a driving rain. "We've got
to be real careful and real thoughtful here."

He now had more questions than answers. But two hours later, back at the
Bogota military airport, he revived after a comment by Ines, the
alternative development director.

"It's sad to see how people live in the country," she said. "The only
alternative those people have is to grow illicit crops or join the
guerrillas. I don't know if General Trujillo shares my view."

The general looked at her. "Yes," he said finally, "I agree."

Delahunt's eyes widened. A Colombian general was on his side.

Barry McCaffrey, the son of a children's book librarian and a US general,
is possessed with an air of certainty. "I'm often wrong," he has said more
than once, "but I'm never in doubt."

But he had reservations when President Clinton offered him the job of drug
czar more than four years ago. He was commander in chief of the US Southern
Command, then based in Panama, and he loved the military life. Vietnam
shaped him forever as an infantry commander, leaving him with an indelible
sense of duty to his country and imbued with physical courage. In Vietnam,
he was wounded several times, including once when he almost lost the use of
his left arm.

"He never learned to duck. He gets wounded every time he's around fire,"
said his father, who advised him to take Clinton's offer. "As an honorable
man, you obey the commander in chief. I told him, 'You don't have much of a
choice. If it comes out badly, that's life."'

At about that time, McCaffrey also expressed doubts publicly about the
benefits of antidrug programs in Latin America, noting in a speech to the
Heritage Foundation in Washington that the supply of drugs on the streets
hadn't dropped because of interdiction efforts.

But in the past year, he has not publicly expressed a trace of doubt about
the Colombian plan. He has been at the forefront of the administration's
policy for a military solution to Colombia's drug nightmare. More than
once, he has been too far in front. Last fall, for instance, he announced
support for a billion-dollar-plus package of antidrug funds before the
White House had agreed to it. That raised expectations in Colombia for a
fast deal, and when no proposal was forthcoming last year, Colombian
President Andres Pastrana suffered political fallout.

Little seems to deter McCaffrey, however. He travels constantly. He works
until 1 a.m. on a regular basis, relying on five hours of sleep a night.
His personal staff works nearly as long. And he has established a
comfortable office environment for himself, which is to say a military culture.

Time is measured on the military clock. Staffers write IPRs, the interim
progress reviews so favored in the service. McCaffrey thinks of people as
being commanders, line guys, or staff guys, terms with military
definitions. He barks orders. He penalizes those who don't perform to his
standards by not talking to them for a month or more.

And yet he also inspires awe because of his talent for marshalling so many
numbers and facts in his mind and his ability to captivate audiences with
forceful and colorful speeches that lay out every detail of the complex
problems in fighting drugs.

He seems to relish the Colombia fight. "What I would suggest," he said in
an interview, his right arm pumping to make the point, "is these people are
three hours flight away from us. There are a bunch of them. They are
important to our economy. They're a democracy. My purpose is to reduce the
drug threat to the American people. But I would also argue that we would
enhance the chance of peace in doing this Colombia package."

McCaffrey and other officials dismiss comparisons with Vietnam. A senior
official last month said American personnel would not be endangered, adding
that "the blood shed will be [that of] the Colombians."

McCaffrey said it is logical to support the Colombian military effort.

"I don't believe there is any disagreement among knowledgeable, serious
people that if we are going to defend the American public from a wave of
cocaine and heroin coming out of Colombia, we better stand with the
Colombians on the Andean ridge in the coming three years," he said. "And
we've got to say it publicly so the peace process is more likely to work
than not."

Today, McCaffrey testifies on Colombia before a Senate committee and then
leaves for a three-day trip to Colombia. He plans to return to Washington
with even more facts to support his case.

Delahunt, meanwhile, has been meeting regularly with Democrats and
Republicans to discuss amendments concerning human rights and more money
for alternative crops. He also may have a chance to question McCaffrey.

"I've never met him," Delahunt said. "I presume we'll meet now."