Mullings: An American Cyber-column By Rich Galen

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Sri Lanka & The Khaki Jacket Boys

Rich Galen

Friday January 14, 2005

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From Washington, DC

Following the day and night on the Southeast coast of India we got to our hotel at about 11 pm with a notice we were to meet in the lobby at 1:30 am for the two-hour trip to Chennai where we would catch our plane for the relatively short hop to Columbo, Sri Lanka.

One of the groups traveling with us were from an tiny Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) called, "Knightsbridge International."

The total group is four guys: Two docs, an electrical and energy specialist, and a documentary film director.

Three of them were on this trip. They have khaki jackets listing the dozens of perfectly awful places they have been to deliver supplies and services over the past twenty-or-so years. These are not twenty-something retired Navy Seals. They're old guys. And they go to really bad places.

They had independently collected a bunch of medical supplies and, unlike us, weren't working on trying to get it into Columbo or Madras, they were working on trying to get it into the rebel held territories in the north of Sri Lanka. But they had contacted Dr. Paul and arranged to haul themselves and their supplies as far as they needed before they broke off to go their own way.

When they first asked me to sit in on one of their in-flight meetings, they were thinking about getting a fast boat to take them across the Palk Strait between Southeastern India and the north coast of Sri Lanka.

I thought to myself, "They aren't going to be able to do this. And if they can pull it off, who would be dumb enough to want to go with them?"

They said they had found an intermediary who said the rebels would guarantee their safety if they brought in medical supplies and they might find a fixed wing aircraft instead of a boat.

They said they might leave from India and go south, rather than fly into Columbo and work their way north.

After a while. I believed them.

When we got to Madras I suggested they hang around the cargo doors to get people used to seeing them there. Then, when we got to Columbo they could simply unload their stuff while we were unloading our stuff; get some transport; and hasta la bye-bye they could be on their way.

Which is exactly what they did, first having convinced a friendly military outfit to lend them a truck to take to the plane they had, indeed, found and which was parked on the other side of the airport.

Here's an excerpt from an e-mail I got about their arrival in the north:

The first guard waves them through. But after another 500 yards another guard gets on the bus. He isn't smiling.
"Where are they from?" he asks the driver in Tamil, the local language.
"America" answers the driver.
The guard looks at the doctors. Still no smile.
"What are they doing here?" he asks.
"They are doctors, they come with medicines," the driver says.
One long second passes.
Two.
Finally, a big smile spreads across the guard's face and he lets them pass.

Prior to our separating from the Khaki Shirt Boys, Mullpal Ginny Wolfe and I were taking our busload of supplies to the customs shed along with the flight crew from Dr. Paul's plane.

One of the Knightsbridge guys, standing on the tarmac, caught my eye. We looked at each other. And we each, simultaneously, snapped off a salute.

How I wanted to go with them.

There are very, very good people in this world. I am blessed to have spent most of the past year amongst them.

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On the Secret Decoder Ring page today: A collection of Mullfotos from the day.

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