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October 7, 2001 RESPONSE TO TERROR
San Diego Mood Tense as Military Gears Up Deployment: In a city deeply
identified with the armed forces, pride vies with worry. 'It's an agony
we all share,' says one man.
By TONY PERRY, TIMES STAFF WRITER
SAN DIEGO -- Things are quiet these days at McP's Irish Pub and Restaurant
in Coronado.
The venerable establishment's best customers--Navy SEALs from the nearby
training base--have not been around much since Sept. 11. "They're away,"
a barkeep says with a wink, "on business."
Left behind along with SEALs memorabilia such as posters, pictures and
flags is a hastily scrawled--and wildly obscene--message suggesting that
the multipurpose commandos are in the forefront as America plans retaliation
for the terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and World Trade Center. In downtown
Oceanside, a squad of Christian evangelists spent Saturday urging passing
Marines to consider accepting Christ as their savior before they are shipped
out to fight, and maybe die, in a far-off land. With wide eyes and stunned
looks, the Marines, most barely out of their teens, listened politely.
They were handed small tracts telling of a Marine from Texas killed
in combat in Panama during the U.S. intervention in 1989, whose parents
were comforted by his religious conversion in the days before his death.
"A few weeks ago, these Marines probably wouldn't have bothered to listen
to us," said Pastor Philip Clark of the West Coast Baptist Church in nearby
Vista. "But since Sept. 11, everything is different."
Indeed it is, particularly in San Diego County, which has the largest
concentration of U.S. military personnel in the world.
Your son's soccer coach, a Navy pilot, does not show up for a game and
his wife gives you a "please don't ask" look. The Marine Corps major who
lives on the corner is not seen washing his car. There seem to be more
helicopters overhead as Marines increase training for possible deployment.
Officers and enlisted personnel with specialties like communications,
encryption, logistics and intelligence suddenly are not coming home at
night. The loved ones of sailors and Marines on deployment to the Indian
Ocean and Persian Gulf look increasingly worried.
"This is a very tense time for San Diego," said Msgr. Joseph Carroll,
director of a downtown social services program. "We're trying to get back
to normal, but how can you when so many San Diegans may be going into harm's
way?"
When the nation prepares to go to war, the tension is palpable in San
Diego County, where 11% of the population consists of active-duty military,
family members, retirees or civilian employees of the Department of Defense.
"To San Diego, war means families going through the agony of being split
up as sailors and Marines go to fight," said longtime city planner Mike
Stepner, a former Navy officer. "It's an agony we all share because everybody
knows somebody--a relative, the family down the block, a reservist--who
is facing a very uncertain future."
While San Diego is also a center for higher education, the arts, the
biotechnology industry and Sun Belt tourism, it is the community's military
connection that has shaped its economy, politics and culture more than
any other factor.
Naval aviation was "born" at Coronado. The Marines who fought at Guadalcanal
came from Camp Pendleton. San Diego Bay has been reshaped several times
to fit the needs of the Navy.
"For over 150 years, San Diego and its Navy have mutually traveled a
path of shared goals and expectations," wrote retired Navy Capt. Bruce
Linder in his recent illustrated history, "San Diego's Navy."
In a population of 2.8 million, San Diego County has 108,000 active-duty
military, 128,000 family members, 59,000 military retirees, and 21,000
civilian employees of the Department of Defense. The county has another
200,000 military veterans and more naval reservists--2,800--than any other
region.
"Everybody is nervous," said Gina Puaatuua, whose husband is stationed
aboard the transport ship Dubuque.
The civic uncertainty is exacerbated by a widespread fear that San Diego
could be a target for terrorism because of its high-profile military bases;
also, three of the 19 suspected Sept. 11 hijackers had lived in San Diego.
A poll done for the San Diego Union-Tribune found that 84% of people
think San Diego is a likely target.
"You always feel threatened, especially on a military base," said Marine
Lance Cpl. Daniel Albarracin, stationed at Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.
"If they struck the heart of our military, they could come here too."
Marines and sailors report feeling a new respect from civilians. Stores
offer discounts to military personnel. Civilians have stood and applauded
as uniformed personnel entered restaurants.
"It's like people just remembered why we wear these uniforms," said
Lance Cpl. James Mesman, also at Miramar.
Bill Emmel, a Navy helicopter pilot, said one of his suburban Spring
Valley neighbors volunteered to mow his lawn and another offered to take
Emmel and his son to today's Padres game, the last appearance for star
Tony Gwynn.
"The community is much tighter now," Emmel said. "I just hope it continues
long after we've taken care" of the terrorist threat.
Still, San Diegans seem reluctant to join large gatherings. Beaches,
shopping malls, the Gaslamp Quarter nightspots and other venues report
decreased attendance.
The Chargers drew 5,000 fewer fans for last week's game against the
Bengals, despite being undefeated, than for the previous home game. The
55,000 at the game roared approval when quarterback Doug Flutie ran onto
the field waving an American flag.
Civic fears spiked when the Navy alerted city authorities on Sept. 13
that intelligence operatives felt an attack might be imminent at San Diego's
famous zoo.
Police ordered the zoo evacuated, and hundreds of frightened patrons
were hustled outside as a search was mounted for explosives along walkways
and near animal enclosures. The search found nothing, but the scare had
damaged the civic sense of well-being.
"It may seem silly, but the fact the zoo had to be evacuated left a
lot of San Diegans very scared," said Steve Edson, business analyst and
zoo-lover. "Even on the day the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, the zoo stayed
open."
Attendance has remained down since Sept. 13, largely due to the lack
of Mexican school groups and tourists apparently discouraged by lengthy
security-related delays at the U.S.-Mexico border crossing.
On Friday, the zoo expected more than 2,000 schoolchildren from Mexico.
Fewer than 150 showed up.
One of the region's most popular annual attractions, the military air
show at Miramar scheduled for Friday through next Sunday, was canceled.
The show, which includes breath-taking maneuvers by the Blue Angels precision-flying
squad, draws more than a million visitors.
Many of the aircraft--including helicopters, fighters and refueling
planes--may be needed elsewhere, military authorities said.
The annual Fleet Week San Diego, a civic celebration of the military,
is still set for Saturday through Oct. 21, with a parade, golf tournament,
luncheons and a circus, although some events have been altered to facilitate
tighter security.
Two dozen ships from San Diego are deployed in the Pacific or other
places. And 2,000 Marines from Camp Pendleton are in the Indian Ocean.
The county's military tradition sometimes pops up in unusual places--for
example, at a recent banner-painting party sponsored by the arts commission
in suburban Encinitas.
Artists were asked to contribute images meant to promote "peace and love" after the terrorist attack. One artist painted a machine gun spitting bullets, with the caption "Peace through superior firepower," provoking an angry confrontation with another artist. The military provides a $10-billion-a-year boost to the local economy,
about 10% of the region's overall figure. During the Persian Gulf War,
when 30,000 Navy personnel and 30,000 Marines left San Diego County, the
local economy suffered a body blow. Some businesses had to close.
Businesses in downtown Oceanside that depend on the Marines are suffering
now, as Marines opt to remain on base for security reasons.
"A guy doesn't need a good late-model Ford if he's going to the desert
to chase terrorists," explained Jim Quinn, manager at Liberty Motors, which
promises no down payment for Marines.
Yet the current buildup seems to have eased tensions in two long-running
disputes between the military and civilians.
Soon after Sept. 11, a homeowners group fighting the presence of noisy
helicopters at the Miramar base announced that, to show solidarity with
the military in a time of crisis, it is stopping its political and legal
efforts to force the military to move the helicopters.
Homeowner leader Jerry Hargarten said a national emergency requires
that the military be given "the highest level of respect and support."
"Objectives such as changing military helicopter routes to reduce civilian
impacts must be set aside," Hargarten said. "Let us pray that our fine
young men and women who fly in these helicopters, if placed in harm's way,
will accomplish their mission safely."
Although startled at the cease-fire, the Marines are appreciative.
"People have realized that when something happens in this country, we're
the guys who go to defend the country and that we're not just guys who
fly over your houses at night," said Dan Rosenberg, logistics officer at
Miramar.
In Oceanside, downtown businesses had asked the City Council not to allow any more businesses that attract young Marines from nearby Camp Pendleton--such as "payday loan" stores, late-night barbershops, and dry cleaners specializing in camouflage uniforms. Such businesses are thought to be a hindrance to the city's effort to attract more upscale shoppers. But since the terrorist attacks, downtown businesses, almost in unison,
sprouted American flags and signs praising the Marines as defenders of
freedom.
Whether that feeling will persist if the conflict becomes prolonged--and
if U.S. servicemen are killed--is unclear, even in San Diego.
"We're resolute today," said Rear Adm. William H. Butler, a Navy reservist
and an executive with a San Diego engineering consulting firm. "But let's
see how people feel in two, three or five years. I'm just not sure."
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