Thread: Sojourn on the Mexican border

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Sojourn on the Mexican border
Cape Coral residents Julius and Jeanette Morreal traveled to the Mexican border and learned what it was like to patrol with the Minuteman group.

Originally posted on September 07, 2006

My wife and I journeyed to Three Points, Ariz., intending to interview Stacey O'Connell, Arizona director of the Minuteman Civil Defense Corps.

Instead, he assigned us to Border Watch on the 57,000-acre King-Anvil Ranch with a platoon of his Minutemen.

Before sundown, 50 Minutemen with their four-wheel drives had assembled at the ranch house waiting for their assignments.

Each was given handheld radios, high-powered searchlights, and night-vision binoculars.

They came from all walks of life: nurses, schoolteachers, truck drivers and retired military and police officers, among the many volunteers.

Most carried side arms conspicuously displayed on their hips. Rifles were not permitted on the ranch and side arms were to be unholstered only under imminent personal danger and in self-defense.

Mexican coyotes were known to shoulder rifles and we were instructed to immediately call for Border Patrol if the smugglers were spotted. Never were we to confront them.

Prior to being posted, we were assembled for a last-minute briefing by Arizona Minuteman Tom Collinson.

We were told not to have any bodily contact with the illegals, neither were we to directly speak or make any threatening gestures toward them.

Some will be exhausted from their 30-mile trek into the ranch, said Collinson, and seldom will they be a threat to us.

Hungry, exhausted and dehydrated, they will simply drop to the ground in a gesture of resignation and despair, he said.

Water could be only offered under established procedures. Bottles or glasses of water had to be placed at their feet and we were to back away without any physical contact.

At this point, the Border Patrol will respond and take them into custody. They will be fed and returned to Mexico, only to try again in a day or two.

FOLLOWING PROTOCOL

Continuing with his instructions, Collinson informed us there will be no smoking or talking on post.

The striking of a match in the night can be seen for hundreds of yards and the ever-present danger of fire was emphasized.

Conversational tones of speech can be heard at a long distance and teams were advised to speak in low whispers and only when necessary.

We were warned of the dangers of scorpions, Africanized bees and especially of rattlesnakes, which prowled during the night, especially after a rain earlier that evening.

At sunset, a convoy of 20 pickups was led to their posts by the group leader. We were warned of the perils of traversing a 15-foot deep ravine.

It can be flooded without warning by a 10-foot torrent of rapidly flowing rainwater channeled from a distant mountain.

The border watch stretched to about 5 miles, with teams posted at quarter-mile intervals.

We were the last team to be posted at the far end of the line.

At midnight, we found ourselves greeting a full moon 30 miles from the Arizona-Mexico border.

Posted with an experienced Minuteman couple we waited for the rustle of illegals as they trekked through the arid underbrush. The moon cast silvery shadows across the rugged terrain, sending chills of anticipation up my spine.

A tomblike silence shrouded us as we waited for the trampling of incoming illegals.

Only the distant hooting of an owl could be heard chiming with the echoing crickets.

Far into the night, the lonely whistle of a freight train was heard rumbling through the Arizona desert.

A dog-like shadow scooted across our path. I jumped out of my chair. "It's only a coyote" whispered my partner. It's the four-legged kind. It won't hurt you."

To add to my fears, something was slithering in the nearby underbrush. A large screeching bird swooped past my brow and dived into something scurrying along the under-brush.

VIGILANT WATCH

Visibility was limited in the dark expanse and it was difficult distinguishing what we were seeing. Tall cactuses took the image of human forms creating doubts of correct identification.

Settling down we sat and waited.

A dark cloud drifted across the moon creating a greater lack of visibility.

"If they are out there, now is the time they will come through," whispered my experienced partner.

Down the line, the crickets and hoot owls abruptly stopped their chorus.

My partner raised a finger to his nose, gesturing silence.

The trampling of sagebrush could be heard at an adjoining post.

Something large was approaching our line.

Shortly after, a team down the line reported a lone male coming into view.

"No!" came the corrected radio message.

"It's two or three. Wait, it's a dozen. No, it's whole herd of them."

Suddenly the expanse was lit up like a night game at Yankee Stadium.

A cluster of illegals were targeted as they scattered into smaller groups racing deeper into U.S. territory.

The chatter of an approaching Border Guard helicopter could be heard in the distance.

Equipped with night-vision devices, they directed the search to responding ground Border Patrol personnel.

Trained trackers then took up the search for the scattered illegals.

The tired and hungry

At 2 a.m., the convoy reassembled and we headed back to the ranch house. En route we spotted a young Mexican couple sitting in plain view atop a huge boulder.

Hungry, thirsty, exhausted and lost, they had given up their trek and waited for the Border Patrol to pick them up.

At the ranch house, I collared Bob Price, a member of the Minutemen Search and Rescue teams. He is responsible for the search for sick or injured illegals and those who are lost.

Thirty-two bodies have been recovered since the project was initiated, but close to 3,000 have been found by Border Patrol since 1998.

"Most were badly decomposed and some appeared to have been scavenged by predators," Price states with a tone of sorrow. "Circling buzzards always gave a clue to where a body could be found."

Stragglers are left behind by the two-legged coyotes who take the groups across the border.

It isn't long that those lingering behind lose their orientation and wander aimlessly about the range for days.

Lost without food and water in the blistering heat, they succumb to exhaustion, drop to the ground and fail to get up.

The coyotes who lead the illegals into the U.S. have no concern for their safety.

"It is money that drives the coyotes," Price states. "Delivering them to U.S. contacts at $2,000 a head is their only concern," he continues.

Coyotes have sexually abused and raped young girls in their entourage. Leaving them behind in tears, they are left to the mercy of the blistering sun.

Soon after, they are dehydrated and lost. If they are lucky, they will be found by the search and rescue team, given medical aid and returned to Mexico.

RANCHER'S WOES

Preventing the loss of cattle had became a major problem to ranchers.

Overturned and trampled fences no longer restricted cattle from wandering into Mexico.

Losing cattle to broken fences had become a daily occurrence, says Price, and their repair has become a full-time task.

In an effort to correct the problem, some ranchers have placed ladders along their borders facilitating easy access over fences.

Others have erected self-closing gates to discourage the trampling of fences.

Without government cooperation, some ranchers have given up the prevention of illegal entry in the U.S.

In effect, they have opened the floodgates to illegal immigration.

SOLVING THE PROBLEM

Bill Norris, Southern New Mexico Minuteman Leader, had a simple answer to the immigration problem.

"Enforce the law and stiffly fine employers hiring illegals," he said calmly, but emphatically. "Let's take the politics out of immigration and do what is right for the nation."

"Our efforts have been hampered by members of the American Civil Liberties Union. Hoping to create a media incident, they have attempted to provoke us into a confrontation," Norris added.

Avoiding such encounters is imperative to Minuteman conduct and they have been trained to walk away from them.

Continuing with our journey, we stopped at the border town of Sierra Blanca, Texas.

It is a depressed, desolate hamlet with little activity and appearing to be a ghost town.

A gas station attendant in the one-pump town opined about illegal immigration.

"That's the border, out there" she said, pointing across the road.

She told us that a never-ending flow comes across daily.

It's as if the border no longer exists.

— Julius Morreal of Cape Coral is a retired New York City police sergeant, and a freelance writer. He can be contacted at 945-8802 or e-mail him at jmorreal@swfla.rr.com. To reply to this article in The News-Press, send your response to mailbag@news-press.com.

"Enforce the law and stiffly fine employers hiring illegals," he said calmly, but emphatically. "Let's take the politics out of immigration and do what is right for the nation."

Amen Bill!