Auction Draws Military Bounty Hunters

In a dingy, cavernous old warehouse that looks more suitable for batsthan businessmen, the U.S. government throws a monthly rummage sale that attracts an unusual breed of customer.

There aren’t many places where a shrewd buyer can happily haul away hundreds of empty ammunition boxes, camouflage uniforms, combat boots, tires, furniture and computer parts--enough castoff military equipment to, well, supply an army.

Tuesday was auction day at Camp Pendleton, and 105 bidders with poker faces prowled through the warehouse, scrutinizing the potential bargains amid the surplus goods piled almost to the circa 1941 rafters.

There was Jim Johnson, who’s been at this game for 40 years, inspecting the merchandise flanking the aisles, hands behind his back, like Horatio Hornblower pacing the deck.

“It’s excitement every time. It’s interesting,” said the Garden Grove man who has just bought 15,000 pairs of government-owned rubber chemical gloves to turn around and sell at surplus trade shows.

Johnson knows his market, and though he’s confident the gloves will be a winner, he said there’s no greater sure-fire success than finding quantities of cheap pistol belts, ammo cases, backpacks and camouflage garb--”cammies” for short.

These are leftovers of the American war machine, and, although it’s hardly the heart of the industrial-military complex, this is still big business.

This one-day auction will earn about $50,000 for the Defense Reutilization and Marketing Service, the worldwide organization that annually disposes of about $7 billion in surplus military property. It is part of the Defense Logistics Agency.

Jim Kottke is the disposal officer at Camp Pendleton, and his is an empire that, were he a black-market mogul rather than a public servant, would make him the king of his own supply-side economy.

Surveying the tons of goods, the rows of refrigerators and washing machines, the piles of tires, and the lot full of retired vehicles, Kottke said simply, “This is the last resort.”

For, if the goods aren’t wanted by another government agency, and if more money can’t be made by recycling the metals, these items are put up for auction the same way a prize horse or a Renoir oil would go on the block.

The professional seller is Vern Wright, whose babbling auctioneer patter is so fast, a person can get motion sickness watching his lips.

He pronounces numbers as though the syllables were taking a dangerous roller coaster ride (“ThirTTT-eee-FIII-uvvv”) and beside the bids, the only other understandable words are when Wright barks “next item.”

Wright powered through 200 items in two hours.

Among the lightning transactions, 238 pair of Marine Corps wool trousers were sold for $150, while 190 field packs went for $925, and seven wooden desks fetched $110.

For the taxpayer, the good news is that surplus military materiel, if it’s not being reused or recycled, is making money that flows back into the federal treasury.

The bad news is that items sold at these local auctions usually get a 5% rate of return from the original cost to the government, although that doesn’t take depreciation into account, said Kottke.

Plenty of bidders left with smiles Thursday, but some didn’t like strangers poking around--even though the auctions are open to the public.

One man, approached while he fiddled with an optical gizmo, snapped to a reporter, “You shouldn’t put this stuff in the paper. Tom, Dick and Harry are here already.”

Most bidders are wholesalers seeking big batches of items to sell to surplus stores, gun shows and other places where people go in search of just-the-right ammo box or whatever.

But some buyers, like Walt Berry of Oceanside, come periodically in search of single items not sold in lots. Today, during the auction, he was scoping out a small iron safe, hoping he could snag it for $50.

He’s visited the auction over the past four or five years and said, laughing, “I got a bunch of junk at home to prove it.”

“I’m retired,” said Berry, “I don’t have much else to do. It gives me something to do. Every now and then, you get something useful.”

For wholesalers who ride the circuit, attending similar auctions at other military bases, this is sometimes an opportunity to cash in big.

Robert Miller, who owns a surplus store in Glendale, is the proud new owner of 230 pair of wool pants that he intends to sell with little trouble. But he agrees with Johnson that the ever-popular goods are cammies, ammo boxes and the like.

The thrill is buying low, making that proverbial killing.

“Most dealers are in it because it’s challenging,” said Miller. “It’s a way of gambling when the odds are in your favor.”

Many wholesalers are waiting for the day when the military surplus from the Persian Gulf War arrives to satisfy a pent-up demand for tan and brown desert cammies, which are different from the standard green cammies.

“People are asking when this stuff is going to show up,” said Miller. “Not for two years.”

Kottke agreed. “Everybody’s waiting for us to sell desert cammies. People are dying for ‘em.”

But, until the day that the desert cammies arrive, Kottke is busy with what he’s already got. He walked through the lot Thursday, scanning the long rows of surplus already waiting to go to auction May 21.