In the Good Old Wallow Time

Ian Urbina and Chris Toensing

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Wallow -- (n) A  muddy area or one filled with dust used by animals for wallowing; a state of degradation or degeneracy. (v) To roll oneself about in an indolent or ungainly manner.

From the official program of the 2002 Wallow.

As more than 500 US troops disembarked in the Philippines, double that number were suiting up on the other side of the world for one of Washington's more secretive and bizarre tribal rituals. On February 2, 2002, the exclusive Military Order of the Carabao, founded in 1900 by American soldiers who fought in the Philippines at the infancy of the American Empire, held their 102nd Annual Wallow. Named after the mud-loving water buffalo of the Far East, the Carabaos have much to celebrate. It seems that Operation Enduring Freedom has bestowed upon them countless acres of plush new pasture.

"This year was totally different," one attendee told us. "With the current White House and all the overseas activity, military confidence is way up. I can't tell you how many excited comments there were about the new budgetary reality." Former CIA director James Schlesinger, recipient of the Carabaos' Distinguished Service Award for 2002, summed it up best in his acceptance speech: "Someone once said that war is hell and peace is heaven. But we know that the opposite is true: war is heaven and peace is hell." As over 1,000 Carabaos and handpicked guests brayed their approval, it was difficult not to wonder whether an imperial renaissance is upon us.

The soiree, held this year at the swanky Omni Shoreham Hotel, attracts the military's top brass as well as an assortment of politicos and eager defense contractors. Those not in black tie or military dress uniform don a kilt for the four-hour extravaganza. Among the guests, called Hombres, there are precious few women. As recently as 1995, a Carabao scandalized the Herd by arriving with his wife in tow. The couple was forced to eat in the hall.

A slate of ditties, lovingly composed and performed by members of the Herd, satirizes public figures and current events, normally paying special attention to the lily-livered liberals perennially seeking a cut of the Pentagon's annual boodle. "It's the military-industrial complex's answer to the Gridiron," as one regular of the Wallow described it.

Songs like "Big Bad Bin Laden" and "An Afghan Lullaby" aired contemporary concerns, while "Base Closing Blues" evoked the funereal spirit of a blessedly bygone era. But with the missiles of the "axis of evil" pointed at traditional Carabao grazing areas, it seemed entirely appropriate that this year's major dramatic theme was "Star Wars." The catchiest of lyrics were those crooned to "Rummy Skywalker" and "Darth Biden." "Colin Solo's Solo" drew an appreciative response from the crowd, and "Princess  Condoleia" offered up an ode to unilateralism that was affecting indeed, even if she was played by a white guy.

Good laughs and stiff drinks were had by all. Even the locally invited preferred to stay in the hotel so that, "rather than driving home to their wives, they could just stumble upstairs to their rooms, bottle in hand," as one onlooker reported. Few guests heed the instructions to please leave the bottles on the table and not cart them off after dinner, a policy initiated several years ago after a Carabao allegedly absconded with a lifetime supply of expensive booze.

 

From the official program of the 2002 Wallow.

To join the Carabaos requires an invitation from inside the Herd. For years, it was necessary to have served at some point in the Philippines, though in 1993 the Policy Review Committee injected youth into the Order's aging ranks by creating the category of Expedicionario Carabao for veterans of all officially identified overseas campaigns. Aspiring Carabao calves must serve their elders as Table Boys at the Wallow before growing a full-fledged set of horns. Guest lists at the annual bash are normally star-studded.

Though invited to the Wallow, Capt. George W. Bush, USAF, did not attend. Nor did Colin Powell, who sat unobtrusively in the banquet hall in 2000. But geriatric Sen. Strom Thurmond wouldn't have missed it for the world. Joining him at the head table, among others, were Schlesinger and Gen. Richard Myers, chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Peter Pace, the Joint Chiefs Vice Chair, and Air Force Secretary James Roche, both Carabaos, played the gracious hosts at tables of their own.

Once bellied up to his pre-assigned table, each tipsy reveler readied himself for a traditional rite: the bellowing of the Carabao anthem. By this point, the room was thick with smoke -- every place setting had come adorned with an authentic Cuban cigar. A disembodied voice calmly requested "Gentlemen, please turn to your songbooks" and the Marine Corps Band seated to the side picked up a lusty tune. The Carabaos, most of whom seemed to know the words by heart, launched into the first stanza, ferociously banging their fists on the tables at each and every chorus:

CHORUS

CHORUS

If such musical manifestoes are hard to come by these days outside of museum displays, "The Soldier's Song" is by no means short on history. In 1914, President Woodrow Wilson waged a half-hearted campaign against it, publicly lambasting the Asian wildebeests for their insults to Filipinos. Wilson hoped to put participants in the annual stag dinners out to pasture, describing them as "silly" and "childish." In one lofty letter, he emphatically reminded his men of "the high conscience with which they ought to put duty above personal indulgence, and to think of themselves as responsible men and trusted soldiers, even while they are amusing themselves as diners out." When no one seemed to listen to his plea, President Wilson blocked his Secretary of the Navy from accepting his promotion to lead bull of the Carabao Herd. Ironically, the offending anthem's lyrics had been softened just several months before Wilson heard it. The original chorus was "Damn, Damn, Damn the Filipinos, cross-eyed kakiack ladrones! Underneath the starry flag, civilize "em with a krag." As a gesture of respect, the stated "Filipinos" had been replaced with "Insurrectos." Hardly famous as an anti-racist crusader, Wilson might have simply been the genteel sort whom Carabao idol Donald Rumsfeld would have stuffed in a gym locker had they been together at Princeton.

"The Soldier's Song" emerged mostly unscathed from this early encounter with diplomatic propriety, only to meet with another slight alteration in the early 1990s. A guest from this year's Wallow recounted the sad tale of a "shit-for-brains" who invited a friend from the Filipino government to the annual sing-along. The Filipino, duly horrified, promptly filed a complaint, while the unlucky Carabao was abruptly thinned from the Herd. Following this incident, the above stanza lauding the Filipinos as "our fondest friends" was added. The only foreigner registered for the 2002 Wallow was a Saudi lieutenant colonel named Nayef Al Saud.

For the most part, the Herd thunders only in closely guarded seclusion. Apart from the obituaries, the last time a Carabao reared an antlered head in the press was in 1983, when General Dynamics Corp. was caught billing the government hundreds of dollars so that its employees could mingle with the Wallowers. This wasn't a new stunt. The same year, the multi-million dollar defense contractor had run up the taxpayers' tab while pressing the flesh at the Iron Gate Dinner in New York, a similar function hosted by the Air Force Association.

In 1999, the presence of independent counsel Ken Starr at the Wallow created a bit of a stir. With the evening's first toast to Bill Clinton, then grudgingly acknowledged as commander-in-chief, all eyes watched Starr for signs of insubordination. As glasses raised, Starr dutifully stood, uttering the requisite "Hear, hear." He did not, however, salute.

But today's Carabao need not be so circumspect. For now, as the Herd sang at the Omni Shoreham, we live:

(Ian Urbina is based at the Middle East Research and Information Project. Chris Toensing is editor of Middle East Report.)

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