A Prisoner and a Jew

Skip Garcia, JD, Ira

In 1991 former president and nearly convicted criminal Richard Milhous Nixon, in response to "reefer madness," first coined the phrase "The War On Drugs." The name immediately conjures an image of a brutal land, sea and air assault against a tyrannical foe.   The battlefield was the world yet as time has progressed the often over used phrase seems to resemble the Hundred Years War as opposed to World War Two.  As part of the ongoing struggle against drugs in the late 1990's, the American Government dispatched an elite group of commandos to a remote corner of Bolivia.  Their mission was to identify and intercept elicit cargoes of chemicals essential to the clandestine production of cocaine.

Two of the teams members are pictured to the right however since JD is still active I thought it best to conceal his face.  I like to think of him as the gravely voiced darkened image of an informant hidden on camera.  Unfortunately I was not present on this tactical mission.  I like to think of myself as forming a command center in La Paz following the movements of the Hole in the Wall Gang.  Following in the foot steps of our mission to Tierra Limitada or preceding them, I don't really remember, the team was  accompanied by a contingent of Bolivian narcotics police deployed to the high Andean desert in south west Bolivia.  They established a base camp and initiated patrols with the hope of spotting chemical traffickers crossing over from Chile overland.

One morning out of sheer boredom Ira and another agent wandered to a small creek and took turns shooting at rusty tin cans near a small creek that ran through the area.  The crack of the shots echoed off the mountains in the distance as the sound dissipated.

It was still early when a patrol left camp with the Bolivian's and two agents.  Left behind were Ira, my slightly neurotic friend, and JD an agent with biceps bigger than my neck.  JD sported a Yosemite Sam mustache and was every bit the ex marine killer he had trained to be.  He was also an incredibly nice person to have on your side.  I always felt a certain degree of security when I was out in Trinidad in the evenings and JD was with me.  No fool in his right mind would screw with me.  I could only imagine that to the average Bolivian he must have appeared like a white version of the Incredible Hulk.

Standing near one of the tents Ira looked out  admiringly at the seemingly endless horizon.   He scarcely noticed  an approaching force of Bolivian regular army soldiers.  Moments later he found himself surrounded by two concentric circles of over 30 rifles pointing in his direction.  The scene seemed reminiscent of a cartoon apprehension.  God help the soldiers on the other side of the circle if anyone chose to open fire.

With his hands slightly raised Ira called out tepidly to JD who was last seen in a tent.  "JD, I think we are in trouble."

JD just out of sight took notice of what was happening and slipped a pistol snugly in the band of his pants before being escorted out of the tent were he had been resting.  Both Ira and JD stood with no shoes looking into the faces of the soldiers that surrounded them. They all seemed strangely similar and unflinching as their rifles extended outward.   JD's jaw tightened as a Bolivian Lieutenant wearing civilian clothing approached. 

Ira

"Who are you?" The middle aged man asked pointing at them while sneering slightly. 

"Who are you?" Ira replied.

"I think you are a terrorist."  The Lieutenant answered. 

Ira glanced toward several trucks near the camp and pointed at a licenses plate.  Several of the soldiers arms stiffened as they raised their rifles alertly.  "CD - Get it?"  Ira responded smugly, his voice filled with sarcasm.  CD was the diplomatic license plate designation in Bolivia.

"Diplomat?" The commander seemed to dismiss it.  "I think you are terrorists.  I am Lieutenant Colonel Luis Alba, Battalion Commander."

 Moments later JD leaned over and whispered coolly into Ira's ear.  "I  Have a pistol in my pants.  I can take out the Colonel."

"Not good JD."  Ira answered gesturing toward his feet.  "No shoes."


Ira whose Spanish was far superior tried in vain to explain the mission to Colonel Alba.  "This is a police matter he insisted."

At some point word reached the US Embassy in La Paz that JD and Ira had been captured and were being held by the Bolivian Army.  Images raced through my head as I imagined Ira out there talking ad nauseum as the soldiers became increasingly agitated. Think of Woody Allen and you have discovered half of Ira. 

After roughly four hours the stand off broke open.  It might have occurred when the police detachment returned or quite possibly it was the result of Ira annoying Colonel Alba to such an extent he surrendered to the two American. 

Whatever the truth when the police and two additional DEA agents returned to camp they joined the fray.  JD was no doubt re-calculating the situation with the additional fire power.  One outraged agent leading the expedition demanded to speak to the Lieutenant Colonel's commander.  The camp was quickly broken down and the group set off for the military encampment where the garrison was housed.  Upon reaching it they passed a 13 year old base guard nervously holding a gun and were lead to a Captain's office.  Ira was politely asked by one of the agents to hold down the trucks as the leader and one other agent with a Spanish sounding name and no command of the Spanish language entered the Captain's office. He undoubtedly spent the time nervously pacing back and forth.

Outraged with the entire situation, the DEA leader protested over the treatment of his fellow agents and the mission.  It is important to understand that in Bolivia, the police and army do not like each other.  Each has staged its own coup attempts and sees the other as a threat.  Taken aback, and clearly agitated the Captain reached for a pistol as the agent with a Spanish sounding name reached for his gun.  The event was reaching wild west proportions when the head agent yelled for everyone to relax.

In the end calmer heads prevailed and the team made its way back to La Paz.  Another forgotten chapter in Bolivia's history was closed to be filed away in a situational report like the last days of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.   Fortunately this time however, Ira would be available for our next adventure.