TIM JOHNSON
Herald Staff Writer

EL CARBONAL, Colombia -- Peering out from under his camouflage fatigue
cap, guerrilla Comandante Ivan Rios cocked an eye and looked quizzical. But
he quickly acceded to the request.

``Come back at 5. I'll take you out there,'' Rios said to a U.S. reporter asking
to visit a camp of Colombia's oldest and largest rebel group.

The timing of the request might have seemed odd. A few days earlier, a
guerrilla unit had murdered three U.S. Indian rights activists in an appalling
execution. A peasant heard the shooting and discovered their bound and
blindfolded bodies. Some feared the cold-blooded killings were a warning to
foreigners in Colombia.

But Rios knew that leaders of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia
had expressed contrition for the murders, and appeared eager to improve the
image of the guerrilla movement, which took up arms in 1964 and is now
shaking the pillars of this resource-rich nation.

A few hours later, we pile into a blue Suzuki Samurai jeep and jounce along a
pothole-filled road leading northwest from San Vicente del Caguan, a
cattle-ranching town that is in a huge demilitarized zone in central Colombia
where on-and-off peace talks have taken place. The sun sets over the bluish
Andes to the west, and by the time we dip into a jungle glade along a creek,
darkness nearly obscures the faces of the 40 or so guerrillas camped there.

Thus began several days with guerrillas of the largest remaining insurgency in
South America, opening a window onto who they are, what drives them to
keep fighting, and why their movement has grown so rapidly after more than
three decades in the jungles.

More than ever, warfare is convulsing the nation.

Defense Minister Rodrigo Lloreda describes the plight of his nation this way:
``We have combat every day someplace in Colombia.''

The stark fact is undeniable, as is the daily body count. But few experts concur
on the magnitude of the threat to this country of 40 million people, which
borders both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans and sits at a strategic juncture at
the entry into South America.

Leaders of the insurgency, which is known by its Spanish initials as the FARC,
say they maintain at least 60 rebel fronts, each with between 150 and 500
combatants. Despite ongoing peace talks, they acknowledge ambitious growth
plans financed through extortion, kidnapping and protection of the drug trade.
The cash lets the movement obtain weaponry as sophisticated -- if not more
so -- than the armed forces.

The war has been going on for so long that it has become a way of life,
creating a nonchalant attitude within Colombian society that has alarmed some
analysts in Washington. Rebel inroads, they believe, are growing virtually
unchecked while the average Colombian worries about the daily routine of life.

``They are 18 months out from assuming power,'' said retired U.S. Army Maj.
Andy Messing, a counter-insurgency expert who has visited 27 different war
zones around the globe. ``We're not dealing with a bunch of farmers with
pitchforks here.''

Prominent Colombians acknowledge that the insurgency has grown far
stronger militarily in the past decade but they say the movement suffers from
limited public support and is less a real menace than a long term irritant.

``The conflict is a lot more complicated than it looks at first. It is true that the
FARC has increased its military power and its territorial presence. But it is
very far, really far, from being a threat to topple the government,'' said Juan
Manuel Santos, a former presidential candidate and member of a prominent
family that owns El Tiempo, the nation's most respected newspaper.

MARXIST INSURGENCY

Leaders tired of hearing world has passed them by

Before we head off to the FARC camp, Ivan Rios -- Comandante Ivan, as
most people call him -- said that he quit economic studies at a university in
northwest Antioquia state to join the rebels 16 years ago. Now 36, he's part
of the 25-member joint command of the Marxist insurgency.

FARC leaders, he said, grow weary of hearing that they are out of touch with
the modern world, especially since the 1989 fall of the Berlin Wall.

``People tell us that the world is changing very rapidly, that there is new
technology, globalization and new policies, that today you can find out what
happens in China and its farthest reaches in seconds with the high-tech that
exists,'' Comandante Ivan said. ``We know all this. But in the end, what's the
difference?''

Rios said Colombia remains ``one of the most unfair nations in the world'' with
skewed land ownership, systemic rural violence forcing the migration of 1.2
million poor people in recent years, and extreme antipathy toward leftist
politicians, some 3,000 of whom were assassinated in the late 1980s.

While rural people comprise only 30 percent of Colombia's 40 million
people-- the inverse of the ratio in the 1960s -- the countryside remains light
years behind the cities, making FARC recruiting easy, he said. These days,
rural youth either seek a career opportunity or follow family tradition by joining
the rebels. Some fathers and sons fight together.

``The guerrillas are an institution in Colombia. We are part of the culture. And
becoming a guerrilla is a profession. This is a fact. It gives you prestige,'' Rios
said.

As we get out of the Suzuki jeep at dusk, the camp before us bears the
neatness of a Boy Scout jungle facility. Scattered around the site are raised
bamboo platforms that serve as snake-free sleeping quarters. A large tarp
covers a central kitchen by the creek bank, and provisions are stacked neatly
on a platform. Rebels lounge, clean their automatic rifles and swap stories.

INSURGENCY OF TEENS

Some of the fighters are as young as 13

One thing becomes immediately clear: The rebels are nearly all teenagers.
Latin America's oldest guerrilla insurgency is filled with youngsters, some of
them as young as 13.

``When I joined they asked me what name I wanted to use. I chose one and
that's what they call me,'' said a 19-year-old guerrilla who chose the name
Mayra Alejandra Rodriguez.

Rodriguez, who joined four years , is one of the few guerrillas at the camp
from an urban area, in her case the Andean city of Ibague.

``The first days were difficult. It's a long way from the city to the jungle,'' she
said. ``I am a person who was afraid of the jungle.''

Women comprise 15 to 30 percent of the guerrillas, and Comandante Ivan
says they are better educated, usually arriving at fifth grade. Male recruits often
have only a couple of years of elementary schooling.

Like others at the camp, Rodriguez believes she is part of something far bigger
than anything her civilian life in an Ibague slum could have offered.

``The young people who are recruited by the FARC feel that they are joining
something important,'' Alfredo Rangel, a respected expert on the insurgents
had told me earlier in Bogota, the capital. ``They feel that their social standing
rises -- not just their own but for their whole family. They all feel more
important. There are kids who join the guerrillas barefoot and hungry. They get
three meals a day, a weapon and a little self-esteem. They learn to read and
write and debate. They feel they are adding something to the country. Their
lives are better than before they entered.''

SOCIAL MOBILITY

Rebel volunteers are given job training

It is common in the cities to hear rebels referred to with derision as
``narco-bandits.'' Some say the guerrillas have become so involved in criminal
activity that they have lost their ideology. But indoctrination and job training
are vital elements of guerrilla life -- far more than in the army -- and social
mobility appears high.

``They have given me training as a nurse,'' Rodriguez said proudly.

``The norm is that each guerrilla must carry a book with him. We have a
mobile library with thousands of volumes,'' Comandante Ivan said.

Even still, many guerrillas are deeply ignorant of the world. When asked about
the largest city she'd ever been in, Yanira Lopez, 15, couldn't name a town
larger than Mocoa in her native Putumayo state.

By social and economic make-up, little distinguishes average rebels from
average recruits in the 146,000-member armed forces. But contempt of
soldiers among the guerrillas is apparent.

``They don't know what they are fighting for. When they arrive they are given
a brain washing,'' Rodriguez said. ``Why are they fighting? To defend the
interests of capitalists. . . . They are told that this guerrilla movement is the
worst, as if we were a disease affecting Colombia. It is a lie. They will learn
that we are not the disease. We are the symptom.''

Experts worry that combat over decades has taken on a dynamic of its own.

``A lot of the conflict is about the conflict. They've fought for such along time
that there's a visceral hatred of the army,'' said Malcolm Deas, a historian at
Oxford University now on sabbatical in Colombia. Deas said he doesn't
believe the rebels have ever developed ``a viable political project.''

Indeed, conversation with Rodriguez comes down to earth when she talks of
battle, and she has seen plenty of fighting.

``The first minutes and hours are scary. But you get used to it. You know why
you are here. And if you have to give your life for the people, you do it
willingly and you die with honor,'' she said with surprising stoicism.

CHANGE OF TACTICS

Frontal attacks deal setbacks to army

Like any army, the FARC's chain of command is hierarchical, from the lowliest
12-person squad to the seven-member ruling secretariat. A rebel manual lists
numerous possible sanctions. Discipline is strict. Rebels bed down shortly
before 9 p.m. and arise at 4:50 a.m.

In the early light the next day, a veteran commander, identifying himself only as
Fernando, joins a conversation about FARC military capability.

``Today, we can carry out big attacks. Before, we couldn't even attack an
army company,'' Fernando said. ``You could say we control territory because
the enemy penetrates, but he can't stay. He has to leave.''

Beginning in 1996, the rebels largely abandoned hit-and-run tactics for
massive frontal attacks on military targets, dealing big setbacks to the army.

As many as 1,200 guerrillas took part in an assault in August 1996 on the
remote army base of Las Delicias, taking scores of hostages. Similar attacks
followed, leading up to an attack on Mitu, a state capital that was overrun last
November.

GROWING MOVEMENT

Criminal activities provide the financing

``If you put together an architecture of the defeats, starting with Las Delicias,
then the radar station at Patascoy, then look at San Juanito in 1997, then go to
El Billar and Mitu, the chronology shows the undoing of the army by
narco-guerrillas,'' said retired U.S. Marine Maj. Gil Macklin, who served as
an advisor to both the Colombian army and the national police.

Secretariat member Raul Reyes recently said, ``There is a reality in Colombia
today: The FARC exists all across the country.''

Growth has been rapid. In 1985, the FARC boasted only about 25 fronts with
2,500 total combatants. By 1990, the number had grown to 50 fronts with
about 6,000 fighters. Since then, ranks have doubled or tripled again, experts
say. And a growing network of collaborators supports the insurgency.

``For each guerrilla in arms, you need about 10 other people. They handle
logistical matters, provisioning of supplies, medical treatment, arms smuggling,
intelligence gathering, political analysis and organizing and recruitment,'' Rangel
said.

As the insurgency has plunged deeper into criminal activity, it has enriched
itself. Estimates of rebel earnings range from $350 million to over $1 billion a
year, putting the insurgency on a par with Colombia's biggest corporations.
Lloreda, the defense minister, said 50 percent of rebel earnings come from
protecting coca and poppy crops for the narcotics industry, 30 percent from
kidnapping ransoms and 20 percent from extortion.

A recent report in the newsweekly Semana said the rebels maintain secret
interests in legitimate fried chicken outlets, stores and gas stations.

``They have facade enterprises, not real big stuff,'' said Lloreda, the defense
minister. He added that the FARC also appears to have investments ``in the
Virgin Islands, the Cayman Islands, even banks in the United States.''

SERIOUS ARSENALS

Small planes create guerrilla `air force'

The cash has allowed the guerrillas to build their arsenals, including 60mm
mortars and other artillery, and even create an incipient air force, experts say.
As many as 35 small planes are believed to be at their disposal.

``They look like private commercial aircraft,'' said Macklin, the retired U.S.
Marine major, adding that some planes carry Czech-made communications
jamming gear.

The problems for average Colombians are mounting. Extortion of ``war taxes''
from landowners and small businesses is growing. And rebels angle evermore
for kidnap victims along highways.

``There's a new tactic they call 'miracle fishing.' They indiscriminately stop cars
along a highway and check identities with their computers, taking some people
away. There are very few places in the countryside where people feel
absolutely secure,'' said Santos, the former presidential candidate.

Beer and soft drink distributors, mining concerns and bus companies, and
other enterprises that operate in the countryside face constant extortion
demands from the rebels.

Experts cast much of the blame for guerrilla advances on the armed forces,
whose top ranks are seen as prone to corruption and wary of further routs by
the rebels.

``The doctrine here used to be that you got into trouble if you lost men. So
they avoided engagement,'' said Deas, the Oxford historian. ``They have a
poor tradition of taking care of their troops. . . . It's a very demoralized army.''

Conscripts and foot soldiers are cannon fodder, sent into battle with poor
preparation against rebel units under experienced command, experts say.
Perhaps nothing symbolizes the plight of the troops as the huge number of
soldiers and police -- about 320 -- now held by rebels in jungle encampments.

Loved ones of the soldiers and police complain bitterly that President Andres
Pastrana has not responded to their appeals.

``The president hasn't seen us for even one minute,'' said Marlen Hernandez,
whose son is a captured police officer.

Hernandez and other relatives spoke at a rebel roadblock east of San Vicente
del Caguan, where they had arrived to find out the condition of their captive
loved ones, held within rebel encampments deep in the jungle.

``The military officers treat us like dogs,'' added Jairo Guzman Franco, whose
nephew, a professional soldier, was taken prisoner. ``The guerrillas receive us
very well. It is contradictory, but it is true. When we came in January, there
were 64 of us, and they gave us food every day.''

Curiously, Guzman learned on the spot that the commander of the rebel
roadblock, Jose Granado, 24, had taken part in the attack on El Billar a year
ago where his nephew was captured. Granado offered Guzman a soft drink
and the two chatted timidly under a palm-frond shelter that protected them
from the tropical sun.

The plight of the captured soldiers, so real to the grieving relatives, has been
met by indifference among the members of Colombia's circle of power. The
ruling elite -- once described as about 100 people who really matter -- view
the guerrilla unrest as remote.

``Many sectors underestimate the problem, feeling that it is far off. They see it
more as an obstacle to the economic progress of the country than a real
threat,'' said Rangel.

Results of a Gallup poll of 538 owners or executives of major businesses
published in February in El Tiempo revealed an overwhelming desire for
peace, but an unwillingness to make concessions to achieve it. Some 67
percent said they would cough up no money, or 5 percent or less of their
income, to finance a lasting peace.

THE LONG HAUL

They pledge to continue struggle for many years

As hours pass, rebels at the roadblock amuse themselves with small talk,
making it clear that they expect to fight as long as needed.

Yanira Lopez, 15, sees her career as just beginning. Asked what she would
like to do in the future, she said: ``In 20 years, I'd like to be commander of a
company.''

A baby-faced 16-year-old, Alfredo Vidal, talked bitterly of the relatives he'd
lost in fighting, clearly a motivation for his joining the rebels.

``My cousin, he was a guerrilla in the 15th Front. He died a long time ago. I
had an uncle who was also in the 15th Front. He died after a firefight up in
Huila,'' said Vidal, picking at a scab. ``I'm not going to let them kill me.''

Another guerrilla, Victor Villegas, 22, smiled as he frisked people at the
roadblock, his Israeli-made Galil automatic rifle slung over his shoulder. A
rebel for three years now, he said Colombia's war could drag on forever for all
he cares.

``There's no hurry. This has lasted 40 years. Why shouldn't we wait it out for
the time necessary?'' he asked. ``Time will provide the conditions for victory.''
 

                     Copyright 1999 Miami Herald