Grease

Widespread corruption marks the procurement of military equipment and supplies.
by Ed Lingao


THE SIGHT of a cow's head, all that remained of a feast the night before, must have been demoralizing for the government troops that finally overran one of the camps of the elusive Abu Sayyaf in Basilan. After all, the soldiers had been subsisting on a diet of Skyflakes crackers and cheap sardines as they combed the steaming jungles of the island province for their enemy. Among themselves, they would be very lucky if they raised enough money to buy a chicken. Meanwhile, here was their foe, buying a whole cow — for P5,000 cash, said residents of a nearby barangay — to cook and feast on.

It is also no secret to many of the soldiers that the rifles they have cannot compare to those brandished about by the bandit group. Indeed, while government troops have to make do with weapons that are older than most of them, the Abu Sayyaf is known to have the latest firearms from the United States, Germany and Belgium. In fact, the bandits are even supposed to be on the verge of getting a fresh shipment of 100 new Russian-made rifles.

Truth to tell, the Philippine military's budget has lagged behind that of its neighbors. While Singapore buys submarines and Malaysia and Indonesia shop for the multi-role F16 fighter jets, the Philippine military is having great difficulty keeping the wings of its aging fleet of F-5s, OV10 broncos and C-130s from falling off. Getting the old, decrepit planes off the ground is actually just a bonus. Troops like to joke that all that is holding the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) together are rubber bands and electrical tape.

The irony is inescapable. After more than 30 years of dealing with internal conflicts, the AFP can boast of being one of the most experienced armed forces in the world. But the guns and equipment once handled by soldier-fathers have only been passed on to the soldier-sons. Same war, different year. Same guns, different soldiers.

Actually, the defense establishment still gets a big chunk of the national budget. Last year, the Department of National Defense received an allocation of P53 billion, second only in size to the budget of the Department of Education, Culture and Sports (P82 billion), Since the Army is the AFPs workhorse, it usually gets the lion's share of the military budget. Last year, it got P13 billion; the Navy got P6 billion and the Air Force, P5.5 billion.

The military's top brass, however, still complains of a lack of funds. Some military insiders and AFP suppliers say the problem is more like a lack of moral values. This is because, they say, grease money has become as much a part of the military procurement system as the grease used to keep everything from howitzers to gun turrets to aircraft engines in working condition.

Many military contractors admit to setting aside huge amounts to ensure that their contracts travel smoothly down the paper trail and not get lost in Never-Never Land. Inevitably, the added costs are passed on to the taxpayer in terms of more expensive guns, aircraft and ammunition. More importantly, what reach the men and women on the ground are not only equipment that are considerably less in number than what they need, but also of questionable quality.

Corruption has become so much a part of the AFP procurement system that there are now special terms used by those in the know. For example, says a senior officer familiar with military purchases, "cost of money" refers to the cost of corruption; it is the additional cost incurred by the contractor over and above the actual cost of the contract. This may take the form of pay-offs, grease money, or expensive gifts. Since this added expense is usually factored into the final contract price, the cost of money is ultimately borne by the taxpayer.

"Cleared money," continues the officer, is bribe money that has already been properly "laundered." This means the pay-off or grease money can no longer be traced to the original source. If the money has already been 11 cleared," the corrupt supply officer has nothing to fear anymore.

One military contractor even complains of the massive bureaucracy they have to hurdle, even after they had already bagged a contract. He says, "Would you believe that we have to get as many as 136 signatures just to process all our papers?"

He says the red tape is bad enough, but the money needed to unfasten the tape at every level is worse. Each of the 136 signatures, says the contractor, requires different amounts of grease money. Otherwise, a contract that may amount to eight figures could get held up for several months, costing the contractor millions of pesos in interest alone.

The contractor, a supplier of artillery ammunition, remarks it might be cheaper in the long run if government simply institutionalized the corruption. "It would probably be better if Congress just legislates a 10 percent pay-off (for military contracts)," he says wryly "At least that would reduce the amount (of corruption)," the contractor said.


ANOTHER major military supplier who declines to be named says that supply contracts with the Army are padded by up to 35 to 50 percent of their original prices because of the need to pay off officials. That may sound staggering, but contractors say the cuts in the other services are bigger. The way they see it, this is only because regular army supply contracts usually involve small-ticket items, like howitzer shells, bullets, guns and uniforms. Most of the major capital expenditures — for tanks and howitzers — are one-shot deals. This means they are bought and kept operational way past their projected life expectancies through a creative mixture of Filipino ingenuity and super glue.

Capital expenses for the Navy and the Air Force, meanwhile, are bigger. As such, the amount grease money required for the contacts is much higher.

For Navy contracts, grease money paid to corrupt officials can amount to 100 percent, meaning the cost of the contract virtually doubles because of pay-offs. But nothing beats Air Force contracts, the supplier says. Because of the smaller technical tolerances involved in operating and maintaining aircraft, and because of the specialized nature of the chemicals and lubricants involved, few people have the authority to question the value of the contracts. Military contractors, however, say that Air Force pay-offs can drive contract costs up to 200 percent.

Yet another contractor points out that it is no longer unusual to discover that a colonel is living in millionaire's row, especially if he is assigned to the Quartermasters Corps or the AFP Logistics Command. He notes that since these units are populated by colonels, there are more millionaire-colonels than millionaire-generals.

Against this backdrop, it was therefore not surprising that eyebrows were raised over a P2.1-billion contract signed this February by then AFP chief (now defense secretary) Gen. Angelo Reyes and Air Force Chief Lt. Gen. Benjamin Defensor. Malacañang insiders say the contract, which is for the purchase of four second-hand C-130 planes and two scanners, has now been set aside pending further scrutiny

As it was, government officials were already rather wary of military procurements after Commodore Guillermo Wong earlier this year accused Marine officers of making money off purchases of Kevlar helmets and Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine guns. Unfortunately, this brought the Marine Corps on the brink of a mutiny; Wong had to be replaced as the naval service commander to placate the restless corps.

Wong's mistake was in issuing a blanket accusation against the leadership of the Marine Corps, an elite group known for unit pride and esprit de corps, instead of ordering a careful investigation. Since then, some attempts to look into the matter further have indicated that Wong may have stumbled onto something big. For instance, the military ombudsman found that the contract for the purchase of the helmets was split among eight companies in order to avoid a public bidding. And when broadcast journalist Karen Davila of ABS-CBN, using the receipts issued by the companies, visited the contractors at their listed addresses, she found that most had given phony addresses.

The military ombudsman also discovered that the different check payments from the Marines to all eight companies were endorsed to only one bank account, a strange occurrence considering that all eight companies were presumably competitors. That is, unless they were really just owned by one person.

As for the HK MP5 submachine guns, they were supposed to have been purchased for a special marine security unit. But the contract failed to push through after the Marine Corps belatedly "discovered" that it didn't have the money to pay-for the guns. The guns, however, had already been pulled out of the PNP Firearms and Explosives Office. Somewhere between the PNP FEO and the Marine Corps Headquarters in Fort Bonifacio, the guns appeared to have fallen off the face of the earth. Yet no one seems to have pursued the investigation into the whereabouts of the guns. One gun contractor says, though, that the submachine guns are now in the underground market — ready and available to go to the highest bidder, without the usual paperwork.

IN THE meantime, troops in the field have had to make the best with the worst. The typical fighting firearm of the soldier is still the M16 Al, an automatic rifle designed decades ago by Eugene Stoner. "The typical soldier," says Randolph Limjoco, an arms dealer and an expert in armaments, "is 20, 22 years old, but he is using a rifle that is 35 years old."

In fairness, while it was derisively labeled by its early critics as the "Mattel rifle," in apparent reference to its supposed toy-like qualities, the M16 and its later modifications have eventually proven themselves competent battlefield companions.

Yet even Col. Ricardo Morales of the Army's Planning Office cannot help but note, "The M16 was adopted in 1973. Since then, hindi na tayo nagbago (we haven't improved). In fact, umatras pa tayo (we've regressed), because the M14 is even older than the M16. Some of them were rebarelled, but there is no significant difference. They are still 30-yearold weapons."

Any talk of corruption in the military, of course, demoralizes frontline troops. But the practice has been going on for so long, and conditions in the field have been so bad for what seems like forever that no one remembers better days anymore. For this reason, many in the military, both in the frontline and in the rear, would rather ignore the obvious and go on with their daily routine of surviving.

"Basta bigyan lang nila kami ng baril na hindi nag dya-jam (So long as they give us guns that don't jam, it's fine)," says an army lieutenant who just recently lost two men in an engagement with the Abu Sayyaf on Basilan. They have had instances, he says, where their guns refused to fire.

A captain fresh from patrolling the mountains of Basilan in search of the Abu Sayyaf comments, "Tutal, nasa frontline kami, may nakakataas naman sa amin. Bahala na sila. Sige lang, basta kasama ko ang mga tao ko dito, sa hirap o ginhawa sama-sama kami. (Anyway since we are in the frontlines, there are those higher than us, We leave it to them. It's okay, so long as my buddies and I stay together, we'll manage through thick and thin.)"

Camaraderie among the troops, however, can only go so far.

A soldier gets a meal allowance of only P 60 a day, little more than a dollar. To stretch the allowance to the requisite three meals a day, troops pool their allowances together, and cook and eat as a group. Sympathetic commanders usually let the troops give their allowances to their families, and instead provide the soldiers with tins of sardines and instant noodles using the unit's operational funds.

The poor diet is bad enough for morale. What makes it worse is that it affects the combat effectivity of troops. Admits an Army captain: "Yung P60 sa isang araw, hindi sapat talaga iyan, kaya kung minsan madaling mapagod ang tao. (The P60 peso allowance for a day is not enough. That is why sometimes our troops get tired easily)"

There is also the matter of being properly clothed for war. Troops get one set of uniforms every three years as reenlistment clothing allowance. But jungle warfare takes its toll on military equipment. Boots have been known to bid farewell to their soles after six months, and camouflage uniforms often look like they were stonewashed after only a few rounds with the laundrywoman. One sergeant says, "Kung one month operation na tuluy-tuloy, basa at ano, hindi magtagal ang gamit mo. (if you are sent on a one-month continuous operation, and considering you'd get wet and everything, your equipment won't last.)"

To top it all off, frontline troops get combat pay of only P250 a month, roughly P8.30 for every day they spend in the combat zone. This is the premium they get for putting their lives on the line. Other than that, they get the same benefits and wages as soldiers manning the desks in Camp Aguinaldo.

Observes a crusty sergeant stationed on Basilan: "Kung ang pagtitiwala sa baba, susuklian nila ng tiwala sa itaas, mas maganda ang Armed Forces ng Pilipinas. (If the trust we give them from below is rewarded by trustworthiness from above, we will all have a better Armed Forces of the Philippines.)"



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