To Recruits, Patrol Has a Foreign Legion Appeal

For new recruits, the border begins among the gnats and pine trees of the Georgia coast.

The Border Patrol academy at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center resembles both college and boot camp. Uniformed trainees march to class under flags inscribed with such mottoes as: “We get the ones that can’t be seen.”

The challenge and remoteness of the Border Patrol give it the appeal of a kind of American Foreign Legion, recruits say.

“That was part of the reason the job was unique to me,” said Paul Cattrell, a lanky trainee whose father is a policeman in South Bend, Ind. “Something that nobody else would do.”

Critics argue that the dark side of the Foreign Legion metaphor applies as well, alleging that agents appear ill-trained and indoctrinated with abusive attitudes.

Border Patrol officials respond that the training increasingly emphasizes Latin American culture and humane treatment; for example, trainees are shown the movie “El Norte,” a sympathetic portrait of Guatemalan refugees. The curriculum has evolved in response to concerns raised by field agents and outsiders, administrators said.

“We are introspective,” said Assistant Chief Ronnie Myers. “We are always looking for a way to address issues as they come up.”

The academy began in 1924 as an eight-week school in El Paso, Tex.. The current 18-week program is among the lengthiest at the sprawling training complex, which serves many federal agencies. The course work ranges from target shooting to intricate immigration law to rapid-fire instruction in border-oriented Spanish.

Trainees say they are unfazed by the patrol’s image problems. Cattrell, who studied psychology in college, said he looked forward to taking on desert drug runners in Arizona.

“I think the American public needs to be aware of what’s happening at the border,” he said. “Because I know in Indiana they don’t hear nothing.”

George Gibson, whose grandfather was an agent, befriended Latino illegal immigrants while working as a Mormon missionary in the poor neighborhoods of Atlanta. He said they influenced his career choice, encouraging him to temper enforcement with compassion.

“That’s personally one of my goals: to be able to help people out rather than perpetrating any of the things you hear about,” said Gibson, 23.

At orientation, Haydee Carranza sat among trainees in an auditorium, her desk piled with books and papers. After five years guarding prison inmates from a gun tower in her native Arizona, Carranza followed her two brothers into the Border Patrol.

“I always looked up to the patrol,” said Carranza, 26. “People ask me: ‘How can you do that job? How can you do that to your raza (race)?’ . . . I say: ‘They’re breaking the law.’ ”