When Aid Breeds Suspicion

From his seat aboard a U.S. Sierra helicopter, Airman Mike Stewart looks down on a cruel artifact from the tsunami. Surveying the ruins of Meulaboh in Aceh province, his chopper passes over an intact tower clock that hasn't moved since the earthquake struck. Stewart and his crew are on one of their six daily runs to deliver supplies to some of Indonesia's most remote villages--all part of Operation Unified Assistance, the largest U.S. military operation in Asia since Vietnam and the backbone of the global campaign to fend off hunger and disease among tsunami survivors. For combat-trained service members like Stewart, 23, the mission requires patience instead of firepower. When his crew lands to deliver plastic sheeting, which can be used for makeshift shelters, two Marines on the ground say it isn't needed. Up in the air again, Stewart spots a lone man waving. When the helicopter circles in, other villagers start smiling and blowing kisses. Stewart decides to return to the site later with food and water. "We're here to help," Stewart shouts above the earsplitting beats of the chopper's blades. "And these people need it."

For the U.S. military, Operation Unified Assistance is much more than a charity mission. The assets dispatched by the Pentagon--103 planes and helicopters, more than two dozen Navy ships and 15,000 troops--have been indispensable in the race to deliver supplies to areas now inaccessible by land. But there's a strategic aim too: from the Commander in Chief to the service members on the ground, Americans are hopeful that the scenes of sailors distributing water and food from the backs of helicopters will offset the more familiar images of soldiers breaking down doors in Baghdad. Most of all, the military wants to soften hearts and minds in Indonesia, the country hardest hit by the tsunami and the world's largest Muslim nation. "This is a great opportunity to show everyone that the military isn't only about war," says Lieut. Marcus Hinckley, the Marine officer in charge of air-traffic control at Meulaboh. "It's a chance to show that we aren't against Muslims."

But three weeks into the tsunami-relief operation, the U.S. is realizing the limits of its good intentions. The sight of American boots and hardware on Indonesian soil has fueled nationalist fears and stirred suspicions about the U.S. Indonesian newspapers reported last week that a text message was being forwarded around the country that reads, "After Iraq, will Indonesia be the next U.S. target?" Indonesian President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono announced that foreign troops had a March deadline to cease relief operations. In response, the Pentagon called off plans to base Marines inside the country. The Indonesians also lashed out at Virginia-based WorldHelp, a missionary group founded by a Baptist disciple of Jerry Falwell's, which said it had received permission to move 300 orphans from Aceh to a Christian children's home in the capital city of Jakarta. After the government denied making such a deal, WorldHelp canceled its orphan mission.