President Obama will almost certainly touch down in Baghdad and Kabul
in Air Force One sometime in the coming year to meet his counterparts
in Iraq and Afghanistan, and he will just as certainly pay a visit to a
U.S. military base or two. Should he stay for breakfast, lunch, dinner,
or midnight chow with the troops, he will no less certainly choose from
a menu prepared by migrant Asian workers under contract to
Houston-based KBR, the former subsidiary of Halliburton.
If Barack Obama takes the Rhino Runner armor-plated bus from Baghdad
Airport to the Green Zone, or travels by Catfish Air's Blackhawk
helicopters (the way mere mortals like diplomats and journalists do),
instead of by presidential chopper, he will be assigned a seat by U.S.
civilian workers easily identified by the red KBR lanyards they wear
around their necks.
Even if Obama gets the ultra-red carpet treatment, he will still
tread on walkways and enter buildings that have been constructed over
the last six years by an army of some 50,000 workers in the employ of
KBR. And should Obama chose to order the troops in Iraq home tomorrow,
he will effectively sign a blank check for billions of dollars in
withdrawal logistics contracts that will largely be carried out by a
company once overseen by Dick Cheney.
Questions for the Pentagon
Obama wants to find out why KBR civilian workers can be found in every
nook and cranny of U.S. bases in Iraq and Afghanistan, he might be
better off visiting the Rock Island Arsenal in western Illinois. It's
located on the biggest island in the Mississippi River, the place where
Chief Black Hawk of the Sauk nation was once born. The arsenal's modern
stone buildings house the offices of the U.S. Army Materiel Command
from which KBR's multibillion dollar Logistics Civilian Augmentation
Program contract (LOGCAP) have been managed for the last seven years.
This is the mega-contract that has, since September 11, 2001, generated
more than $25 billion for KBR to set up and manage military bases
overseas (and resulted, of course, in thousands of pages of
controversial news stories about the company's war profiteering).
Even more conveniently, Obama could pop over to KBR's Crystal City
government operations headquarters in Arlington, Virginia, just a mile
south of the Pentagon and five miles from the White House. On Crystal
City Drive just before Ronald Reagan National airport, it's hard to
miss the KBR corporate logo, those gigantic red letters on the 11-story
building at the far corner of Crystal Park.
Many people who know something about KBR's role in Iraq and
Afghanistan might want Obama to question the military commanders at
Rock Island and the corporate executives in Arlington about the shoddy electrical work, unchlorinated shower water, overcharges for trucks sitting idle in the desert, deaths of KBR employees and affiliated soldiers in Iraq, million-dollar alleged bribes accepted by KBR managers, and billions of dollars in missing receipts, among a slew of other complaints that have received wide publicity over the last five years.
But those would be the wrong questions.
Obama needs to ask his Pentagon commanders this: Can the U.S. military he has now inherited do anything without KBR?
And the answer will certainly be a resounding no.
Keeping a Volunteer Army Happy
Tim Horton is the head of public relations for Logistical Supply Area
Anaconda in Balad, Iraq, the biggest U.S. base in that country. He was
a transportation officer for 20 years and has a simple explanation for
why the army relies so heavily on contractors to operate facilities
"What we have today is an all-volunteer army, unlike in
a conscription army when they had to be here. In the old army, the
standard of living was low, the pay scale was dismal; it wasn't fun; it
wasn't intended to be fun. But today we have to appeal, we have to
recruit, just like any corporation, we have to recruit off the street.
And after we get them to come in, it behooves us to give them a reason
to stay in."
Even in 2003, the U.S. military was incredibly overstretched. For the
Bush administration to go to war then, it needed an army of cheap labor
to feed and clean up after the combat troops it sent into battle. Those
troops, of course, were young U.S. citizens raised in a world of
creature comforts. Unlike American soldiers from their parents' or
grandparents' generations who were drafted into the military in the
Korean or Vietnam eras and ordered to peel potatoes or clean latrines,
the modern teenager can choose not to sign up at all.
As Horton points out, the average soldier gets an average of
$100,000 worth of military training in four years; if he or she then
doesn't reenlist, the military has to spend another $100,000 to train a
replacement. "What if we spend an extra $6,000 to get them to stay and
save the loss of talent and experience?" Horton asks. "What does it
take to keep the people? There are some creature comforts in this
Wal-Mart and McDonald's society that we live in that soldiers have come
to expect. They expect to play an Xbox, to keep in touch by e-mail.
They expect to eat a variety of foods."
A quarter-century ago, when Horton joined the Army, all they got was
a fourteen-day rotational menu. "We had chili-mac every two weeks, for
crying out loud. What is that? Unstrained, low-grade hamburger mixed
with macaroni. Lot of calories, lots of fat, lots of starch, that's
what a soldier needs to do his job. When you were done, you had a heart
Today, says Horton, expectations are different. "Our soldiers need
to feel and believe that we care about them, or they will leave. The
Army cannot afford to allow the soldier to be disenfranchised."
When I visited with him in April 2008, Horton took me to meet
Michael St. John of the Pennsylvania National Guard, the chief warrant
officer at one of Anaconda's dining facilities. St. John led me on a
tour of the facility, pointing out little details of which he was
justly proud -- like the fresh romaine lettuce brought up from Kuwait
by Public Warehousing Corporation (PWC) truck drivers who make the
dangerous 12-hour journey across the desert, so that KBR cooks have
fresh and familiar food for the troops. Stopping at the dessert bar St.
John explained, "We added blenders to make milkshakes, microwaves to
heat up apple pie, and waffle bars with ice cream." The "healthy bar"
was the next stop. "Here," he pointed out, "we offer baked fish or
chicken breast, crab legs, or lobster claws or tails."
"Contractors here do all the work," St. John added. He explained
that he had about 25 soldiers and six to eight KBR supervisors to
oversee 175 workers from a Saudi company named Tamimi, feeding 10,000
people a day and providing take-away food for another thousand.
"They do everything from unloading the food deliveries to taking out
the trash. We are hands off. Our responsibility is military oversight:
overseeing the headcount, ensuring that the contractors are providing
nutritional meals and making sure there are no food-borne illnesses.
It's the only sustainable way to get things done, given the number of
soldiers we have to feed."
Horton chimes in: "I treat myself to an ice-cream cone once a week.
You know what that is? It's a touch of home, a touch of sanity, a touch
of civilization. The soldiers here do not have bars; all that is gone.
You've taken the candy away from the baby. What do you have to give
him? What's wrong with giving him a little bit of pizza or ice cream?"
Between a chili-mac military and a pizza-and-ice-cream military, the
difference shows -- around the waistline. Sarah Stillman, a freelance
journalist with the website TruthDig, tells a story
she heard about a PowerPoint slide that's becoming popular in Army
briefings: "Back in 2003, the average soldier lost fifteen pounds
during his tour of Iraq. Now, he gains ten."
Stillman says that the first warning many U.S. troops receive here
in Baghdad isn't about IEDs (improvised explosive devices), RPGs
(rocket-propelled grenades), or even EFPs (explosively formed
projectiles). It's about PCPs: "pervasive combat paunches."
Privatizing the U.S. Army
KBR has grossed more than $25 billion since it won a 10-year
contract in late 2001 to supply U.S. troops in combat situations around
the world. As of April 2008, the company estimated that it had served
more than 720 million meals, driven more than 400 million miles on
various convoy missions, treated 12 billion gallons of potable water,
and produced more than 267 million tons of ice for those troops. These
staggering figures are testimony to the role KBR has played in
supporting the U.S. military in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other countries
targeted in President Bush's Global War on Terror.
And in the first days of the new Obama administration, the company continues to win contracts. On January 28, 2009, KBR announced
that it had been awarded a $35.4 million contract by the U.S. Army
Corps of Engineers for the design and construction of a convoy support
center at Camp Adder in Iraq. The center will include a power plant, an
electrical distribution center, a water purification and distribution
system, a waste-water collection system, and associated information
systems, along with paved roads, all to be built by KBR.
How did the U.S. military become this dependent on one giant
company? Well, this change has been a long time coming. During the
Vietnam War in the 1960s, a consortium of four companies
led by the Texas construction company Brown & Root (the B and R in
KBR) built almost every military base in South Vietnam. That, of
course, was when Lyndon B. Johnson, a Texan with close ties to the
Brown brothers, was president. In 1982, two years into Ronald Reagan's
presidency, Brown & Root struck gold again. It won lucrative
contracts to build a giant U.S. base on the Indian Ocean island of
Diego Garcia, a former British colony.
In 1985, General John A. Wickham drew up plans to streamline logistics
work on military bases under what he dubbed the Logistics Civilian
Augmentation Program (LOGCAP), but his ideas would remain in a back
drawer for several years. In the meantime, Dick Cheney, as Secretary of
Defense in the administration of the elder George Bush, loosed the
American military on Iraq in the First Gulf War in 1991, and hired
hundreds of separate contractors to provide logistics support. The
uneven results of this early privatizing effort left military planners
frustrated. By the time Cheney left office, he had asked Brown &
Root to dust off the Wickham LOGCAP plan and figure out how to
consolidate and expand the contracting system.
President Bill Clinton's commanders took a harder look at the new
plan that Brown & Root had drawn up and liked what they saw. In
1994, that company was hired to build bases in Bosnia and later in
Kosovo, as well as to take over the day-to-day running of those bases
in the middle of a war zone.
By the time Donald Rumsfeld took over as Secretary of Defense under
the younger George Bush, he had embraced the revolution that Wickham
had begun, and Clinton and Cheney had implemented. At a Pentagon event
on the morning of September 10, 2001, one day before three aircraft
struck the Pentagon and the World Trade Center, Rumsfeld identified the crucial enemy force his assembled senior staff would take on in the coming years:
"The topic today is an adversary that poses a threat, a
serious threat, to the security of the United States of America. This
adversary is one of the world's last bastions of central planning. It
governs by dictating five-year plans. From a single capital, it
attempts to impose its demands across time zones, continents, oceans,
and beyond. With brutal consistency, it stifles free thought and
crushes new ideas. It disrupts the defense of the United States and
places the lives of men and women in uniform at risk. You may think I'm
describing one of the last decrepit dictators of the world. The
adversary's closer to home. It's the Pentagon bureaucracy.
"We must ask tough questions. Why is DOD [Department of Defense] one of
the last organizations around that still cuts its own checks? When an
entire industry exists to run warehouses efficiently, why do we own and
operate so many of our own? At bases around the world, why do we pick
up our own garbage and mop our own floors, rather than contracting
services out, as many businesses do?"
He outlined a series of steps to slash headquarter staffs by 15% in the
two years to come and promised even more dramatic changes to follow.
While the invasion of Afghanistan the following month was conducted by
military personnel, Rumsfeld's ideas started to be implemented in the
spring of 2002. Indeed, the building of bases in Kuwait in the fall of 2002 for the coming invasion of Iraq was handled almost entirely by KBR.
Today, there is one KBR worker for every three U.S. soldiers in Iraq --
and the main function of these workers, under LOGCAP, is to build base
infrastructure and maintain them by doing all those duties that once
were considered part of military life -- making sure that soldiers are
fed, their clothes washed, and their showers and toilets kept clean.
While many stories have been written about the $80,000 annual salaries
earned by KBR truck drivers, most of the company's workers make far
less, mainly because they are hired from countries like India and the
Philippines where starting salaries of $300 a month are considered a
Outsourcing the Kitchen Patrol
The majority of KBR's labor force, some 40,000 workers (the
equivalent of about 80 military battalions), are "third country
nationals" drawn largely from the poorer parts of Asia. In April 2008,
I flew to Kuwait city where I spent time with a group of Fijian truck
drivers who worked for a local company, PWC, doing subcontracting work
My host was Titoko Savuwati from Totoya Lau, one of the Moala
Islands in Fiji. He picked me up one evening in a small white Toyota
Corolla rental car. The cranked-up sound system was playing American
country favorites and oldies. Six feet tall with broad, rangy
shoulders, short-cropped hair, and a goatee, Savuwati had been a police
officer in Fiji. He was 50 years old and had left at home six children
he hadn't seen in four years. When he got out of his car, I noticed
that he had a pronounced limp and dragged one foot ever so slightly
We joined his friends at his apartment for a simple Anglican prayer
service. Deep baritone voices filled the tiny living room with Fijian
hymns before they sat down to a meal of cassava and curried chicken
parts and began to tell me their stories. Each had made at least 100
dangerous trips, driving large 18-wheeler refrigeration trucks that
carry all manner of goodies destined for U.S. soldiers from Kuwaiti
ports to bases like LSA Anaconda. They sleep in their trucks, not being
allowed to sleep in military tents or trailers along the way.
Savuwati had arrived in Kuwait on January 14, 2005, as one of 400
drivers, hoping to earn $3,000 a month. Instead, his real pay, he
discovered, was 175 Kuwaiti dinar (KWD) a month (US$640), out of which
he had to pay for all his food and sundries, even on the road, as well
as rent. Drivers were given an extra 50 dinar ($183) allowance on each
trip to Iraq.
"I came to Iraq because of the large amount of money they promised
me," he said, sighing. "But they give us very little money. We've been
crying for more money for many months. Do you think my family can
survive on fifty KWD?" He sends at least 100 dinars ($365) home a month
and has no savings that would pay for a ticket home at a round-trip
price of roughly $2,500.
I did a quick calculation. For every trip, if they worked the
12-hour shifts expected of them, the Fijians earned about $30 a day, or
$2.50 an hour. I asked Savuwati about his limp. On a trip to Nasariyah
in 2005, he told me, his truck flipped over, injuring his leg. Did he
get paid sick leave? Savuwati looked incredulous. "The company didn't
give me any money. When we are injured, the company gives us nothing."
But, he assured me, he had been lucky -- a number of fellow drivers had
been killed on the job.
The next day, I stopped by to see the Fijians again, and Savuwati
gave me a ride home. I offered to pay for gasoline and, after first
waving me away, he quickly acquiesced. As he dropped me off, he looked
at me sheepishly and said, "I've run out of money. Do you think you
could give me one KWD [$3.65] for lunch?" I dug into my pocket and
handed the money over. As I walked away, I thought about how ironic it
was that the men who drove across a battle zone, dodging stones,
bullets, and IEDs to bring ice cream, steak, lobster tails, and
ammunition to U.S. soldiers, had to beg for food themselves.
This, of course, is the real face of the American military today, though it's never seen by Americans.
Pentagon commanders often speak of a "revolution in military
affairs" when summing up the technological advances that allow them to
stalk enemies by satellite, fire missiles from unmanned aerial
vehicles, and protect U.S. soldiers with night-vision goggles, but they
rarely explain the social and logistical changes that have accompanied
Today, U.S. soldiers are drawn from a video-game culture that
embraces computers on the battlefield, even as the U.S. Army bears ever
less relation to the draft armies that did the island-hopping in the
Pacific in World War II or fought jungle battles in Vietnam. Indeed,
the personnel that Obama will soon visit in Iraq and Afghanistan is
generally supplied with hot food and showers around the clock in combat
zones in the same way they might be on a Stateside base -- by workers
Undoubtedly, an Obama administration could begin to cut some of the
notorious fat out of the contracts that make that possible, including
multi-million dollar overcharges. Obama's potential budget trimmers
could, for example, take whistleblowers inside KBR and the Pentagon
seriously when they report malfeasance and waste.
But could Obama dismiss KBR's army, even if he wanted to? Will Obama
really be willing to ask American volunteer soldiers to give up the
bacon, romaine lettuce, and roast turkey that they have come to expect
in a war zone? And even if he could do so, those are only the luxuries.
Keep in mind that, on U.S. bases in Iraq and Afghanistan, every single
item, from beans to bullets, is shipped using contractors like PWC of
Kuwait and Maersk of Denmark. In the last two decades, the U.S.
military has even divested itself of the hardware and people that would
allow it to move tanks around the world, relying instead on contractors
to do such work.
The White House website states
that "Obama and Biden support plans to increase the size of the Army by
65,000 soldiers and the Marine Corps by 27,000 Marines. Increasing our
end strength will help units retrain and re-equip properly between
deployments and decrease the strain on military families." As part of
the same policy statement, the site claims the new administration will
reform contracting by creating "transparency for military contractors,"
as well as restoring "honesty, openness, and commonsense to contracting
and procurement" by "rebuilding our contract officer corps."
Nowhere, however, does that website suggest that the new
administration will work toward ending, or even radically cutting back,
the use of contractors on the battlefield, or that those 92,000 new
soldiers and Marines are going to fill logistics battalions that have
been decimated in the last two decades. What we already know of the
military policies of the new administration suggests instead that
President Obama wants to expand U.S. military might. So don't be
surprised if the new LOGCAP contract, a $150 billion 10-year program
that began on September 20, 2008, remains in place, with some minor
tinkering around the edges to provide value for taxpayer money. KBR's
army, it seems, will remain on the march.
CorpWatch Managing Editor Pratap Chatterjee is the author of Halliburton's Army: How A Well-Connected Texas Oil Company Revolutionized the Way America Makes War. A TomDispatch audio interview in which Chatterjee discusses KBR World can be heard by clicking here.
- 20 Logistics
- 104 Globalization
- 116 Human Rights
- 176 War Profiteers Site
- 184 Labor
- 187 Privatization
- 208 Regulation