COLUMN ONE : Brazen Rail Bandits on the Border : A band of thieves preys on U.S. freight trains, then darts back to its base in a Mexican squatters’ camp. Tangled international law has foiled attempts to stop the heists.

In a throwback to the Wild West, freight trains thundering through this parched valley are being swarmed by bandits who plunder their cargoes, then flee back across the Mexican border--which in some places is only 10 paces from the tracks.

The thieves stage their raids from a nearby squatters’ camp, a cluster of cardboard and wood shanties where 40,000 people live without running water, sewers or law enforcement. It is known as Colonia Anapra. But to Mexican authorities it is La Boca de Lobo --the wolf’s mouth.

In what has become a disturbing routine, the well-organized team of about 60 armed bandits trips a train’s brake system, pitches freight from televisions to tennis shoes overboard, then hauls the loot across the border to hired help in cars and trucks.

They have tried to disable trains towing as many as 100 cars by pulling spikes from the tracks, heaping scrap metal on the rails or jamming switch boxes with rocks. They even have slathered the green lenses of signal lights with red paint to confuse engineers.

“In five to 10 minutes, they can stop a train, break into the rail cars and toss the goods out,” said Southern Pacific Railroad Police Capt. Tom Monsen. “Once they’re over the border, it’s olly olly oxen free.”

Last year, nearly 100 Southern Pacific trains--all ferrying freight between Los Angeles and New Orleans--were robbed here. With more than $1 million in cargo stolen, railroad officials say, the Sunland Park region ranks third behind the Los Angeles and Chicago areas in theft.

In April, the heists took an ominous turn when 30 robbers shot at authorities who roared up on both sides of the border. No one was injured in the incident that resulted in the arrests of eight men by Mexican authorities. The rest escaped into the rugged canyons of nearby Mount Cristo Rey with a haul of TVs.

Train robbers plague nearly every rail line and yard in the nation. What is unusual about the problem here is that trains are being hit at the border, and U.S. officials and rail police cannot chase the thieves into Mexico.

Train robberies began to soar in this area 18 months ago, when the U.S. Border Patrol cracked down on illegal immigration and cross-border crime at the nexus of several rail lines in El Paso, Tex. The bandits moved their operation about five miles west, just across the border from the colonia --which has swollen in recent months with desperate people reeling from Mexico’s latest economic crisis.

Authorities in both countries are casting about for solutions. They won’t come easily given the poverty in the colonia , the reluctance of financially pressed Mexican police in nearby Juarez, Mexico, to patrol the area, and a thicket of restrictions on U.S. enforcement in a place where the border is an invisible line in the desert.

“Ever see the Keystone Cops? It’s like that watching law enforcement try to catch these guys,” said a Pinkerton security guard who monitors the rail switching station here.

Residents of the colonia fear the bandits, who are part of a vast netherworld economy in a place where the only law is survival.

“We watch these train robberies, but we can’t say anything or the bandits will come after us,” said Juan Hernandez Castro, standing beside a cardboard shanty he bought for $200.

Sunland Park authorities said the bandits recruit desperate youths from the camp, paying them $50 to $75 to help steal cargo, which is then fenced in New Mexico, Texas, Juarez and the Mexican interior.

Juarez Municipal Police Chief Jose Luis Holguin insists that “the U.S. side has exaggerated the criminal allegations at Anapra, allegations that now have gone all the way to the central government in Mexico City through diplomatic channels.”

But with losses mounting, U.S. and railroad officials are demanding action through leverage gained by trade agreements and America’s financial aid to its crisis-torn neighbor. Mexican authorities this month agreed to let the Border Patrol build a chain-link fence along 1.3 miles of track that curves past the colonia . Mexico also will provide 24-hour patrols on its side of the rail.

That agreement, which would avoid a 12-foot steel wall originally advocated by the Border Patrol, is under consideration in Washington, authorities said.

“In the long run, Mexico is taking the big view of trade under NAFTA [the North American Free Trade Agreement],” said Rich Campbell, director of strategic analysis for Southern Pacific, which counts Mexico as its fastest-growing market. “For NAFTA to be successful, overland transportation has to be safe, reliable and not subject to diversion.”

But the fence proposal has inflamed residents of the colonia , which is a regional magnet for squatters known as paracaidistas (parachutists) who seem to drop out of the sky in search of rent-free housing or a reasonable chance of crossing the border illegally.

“Ten thousand people in Anapra protest the Berlin Wall,” read a large hand-painted sign erected near the tracks.

“We’ve been asking Mexican authorities for years for better police protection in this community,” said 32-year-old colonia spokesman Cesar de la Cruz. “What happens? They offer to help protect the assets of a U.S. company. But my own house has been robbed four times!

“When it comes to NAFTA, the United States calls us friends, business partners and brothers,” he added. “But when it comes to Anapra, the big money and business interests portray us as thieves and killers.”

Colonia Anapra is largely built out of discarded American cardboard, tires, pallets and corrugated tin siding. Its residents store drinking water in 55-gallon drums encrusted with chemical residue, and cook corn and tortillas over burning tires.

There is no public electricity, but residents bootleg power to run appliances by attaching wires to power lines. These wires are called diablitos --little devils--because of the sparks they throw off during a power surge or when it rains. Children learn early to jump over the wires that crisscross nearly every yard in the village.

Residents also have learned not to expect much in the way of law enforcement from Juarez officials, who refuse to provide them with basic services. When serious crimes occur, they are reported via shortwave radio. Response times are measured in hours.

When these people look north, they see a lonely Southern Pacific switching station recently surrounded by thick wooden barriers and razor wire, and staffed around the clock by Pinkerton security guards who call the place “Ft. Anapra.” When the guards look south, they see what one described as “a spectacle of misery.”

In a surreal game of survival, the unarmed guards--hired to radio for law enforcement assistance at the first sign of trouble on the rail-- hand out purified water and food to villagers who drop by each day to ask questions about life in America.

“Many children from over there have rotting teeth and gum disease, and we think it’s from drinking the water they store in [contaminated drums],” said Pinkerton guard Sergio Lujan. “So, we give them clean water and food.”

Occasionally, the guards dodge bullets and rocks heaved by the bandits during daring nighttime train robberies.

“I’ve had rocks thrown at me several times,” said one Pinkerton guard. “But I understand it’s because of the economic state those people are in. They look over here and see a dream, and all they want to do is touch it. For some of them, the trains that pass so close to their homes are an opportunity for easy money.”

Heightened surveillance and rail patrols in the region have only raised the stakes for the bandits, who have devised increasingly sophisticated strategies to accomplish their goals.

Authorities who have watched the heists say the bandits typically dispatch advance teams to board trains stopped on sidetracks elsewhere to make way for trains traveling in the opposite direction. By the time a targeted train hits 70 m.p.h., these scouts are precariously perched on rail car ledges only a few inches wide. They use bolt cutters to pry open containers in search of goods including computer screens, televisions, clock-radios and expensive running shoes.

When a train rounds the bend at the colonia , they tamper with its air hoses, triggering the emergency brakes. As the train rolls to a stop, dozens of helpers pour out of the village and rush the tracks wielding guns and ladders, crowbars and bolt cutters. Metal car doors pop open amid shouts of “Hurry! Hurry!” in Spanish.

During an assault, train crews are instructed to lock their compartment doors and wait for an all-clear by law enforcement officers, whose approach is spotted by the rooster tails of dust their vehicles raise on dirt roads.

By the time help arrives, the bandits are loading merchandise in cars and trucks parked on the Mexican side of the border, or stashing the stuff under bushes to be retrieved later.

The escalating thefts and violence are not the only things that worry railroad officials.

“If a train carrying toxic chemicals is forced off the tracks, it could be catastrophic on both sides of the border,” Monsen said. “We have communicated these concerns to Mexican authorities.”

Until recently, such concerns seemed to fall on deaf ears in Mexico.

Holguin, who would be in charge of patrolling the proposed rail fence, said: “Yes, we will agree to a fence, and we will help patrol it. Nonetheless, we also wonder why Southern Pacific does not have the forces to protect its own lines.”

Railroad officials argue that the rampant robberies are a federal border problem involving illegal entry and cross-border crime from Mexico. They also figure that in a community as large and extraordinarily poor as Anapra, a few people are bound to stray.

“There are a lot of good people in Anapra, and a few troublemakers,” Monsen said. “But right now, each train that moves through here is a potential victim. Until we can get more controlling measures installed, the problem is not over.”