DJIBOUTI, Djibouti, Nov. 29 (UPI) -- As three dump trucks filled with dirt and gravel wait at the entrance to the U.S. military Camp Lemonier, filling the air with dust and diesel smoke, a camel wanders by, chewing a blue plastic bag.
A commercial jet taking off from Djibouti's commercial airport next door roars overhead.
The unlikely spot outside of Djibouti city is part of the emerging face of America's war on terrorism. This East African country's strategic location at the mouth of the Red Sea is less than 100 miles across the Bab el Mandeb Strait from Yemen, birthplace to Osama bin Laden, alleged al Qaida mastermind of terrorist attacks against the United States.
And just on the other side of the Horn of Africa is Mombasa, Kenya, where a suicide bombing at a coastal hotel on Thursday morning killed at least 18 people. A few minutes later, two shoulder-fired surface-to-air missiles narrowly missed an Israeli passenger jet with nearly 300 people on board as it took off from Mombasa's international airport.
Some 800 U.S. special forces and Army troops have lived at Camp Lemonier since July, and 400 more military staff are to arrive shortly, sent by U.S. Central Command to oversee operations in the Horn of Africa. The operations headquarters initially is expected to be based on the USS Mount Whitney, an amphibious command ship en route to the region.
Capt. David Connolly, an Army spokesman for the camp, said that Lemonier will get a $16 million facelift over the next two years, an indication that Americans are settling into this poor north African country of just 740,000 people for the long haul.
Brown and Root military contractors will oversee building of new helicopter pads for Super Cobras, now parked on the airport tarmac, and expansion of some airplane runways. There will also be some homey touches like wood floors for the camp's tents and a renovated swimming pool.
Ping-pong tables, exercise equipment and Internet-ready computers have been flown in, Connolly said. Troops are "locked down" at the camp, according to a Brown and Root worker who declined to be identified.
Connolly told United Press International that his soldiers have been out on the town, although merchants there say they have not met any Americans.
"It depends on our force protection level," he said. "Sometimes we get to enjoy shopping in town or dinner out."
After an attack against U.S. troops on exercises in Kuwait, the few U.S. military officers allowed to stay at the Djibouti Sheraton with its swimming pool overlooking the sea were moved to more secure quarters at the airport, said Peter Stadalmann, the hotel manager.
In the deserted plateaus along the Red Sea to the north, 1,500 U.S. Marines have recently completed a week-long exercise with live fire. Mortar fire reverberated off the sandy hills in explosions that could be felt in a village 20 miles away.
Several of the Marines said they volunteered for the job, which they believe will end up in a meeting with Saddam Hussein.
"I want to be forward deployed and make a difference in history," said Capt. Winston Heron, a Marine company commander.
For the moment, however, the job consists of training -- and for some three dozen Marines, a little handyman work.
At a small whitewashed schoolhouse overlooking the sea, the men hammered together some new furniture, a fence and some doors on empty door frames to help out the community during the exercises.
When the Marines finished the exercises, they packed up their temporary camp into gray Seahawk helicopters that took them back to the a fleet of U.S. warships patrolling the Red Sea.
While no al Qaida figures have been captured yet, that doesn't mean they're not around, said a Western official who asked to remain anonymous.
"This area has been a zone where a lot of people and weapons transit. There are areas that aren't under strict governmental control," the official said. "That's where it becomes part of Operation Enduring Freedom."
Col. Osman Soubaglei, a Djibouti Defense Department liaison to U.S. military operations in the region, agreed that terrorists could be in Djibouti.
But "we don't want to invite terrorists here," he added, and so he and Mahamoud Ali Youssef, Djibouti's minister for cooperation with foreign governments, say they have invited the United States in to deal with possible threats.
Djibouti's intentions seem genuine among people in town waiting for the Ramadan fast to end late one afternoon. Ramadan is a month-long religious holiday in which Muslims fast and pray during the day, eating and even drinking water only after the sun has gone down.
"We aren't Arabs, and we don't like terrorists," said Omar Abhillahi, 40, a bus driver. "We help our friends, and the Americans are our friends."
The government's new friendship with Washington is expected to mean about $10 million in aid next year. That's after seven years without any help, followed by $8.7 million in 2002.
Certainly the American presence has already brought change to Djibouti's people. One day Marines in small boats surrounded Ali Mahomoud's fishing boat as he motored home toward his village, Chabelly, after a long day.
A helicopter whirred overhead, said Mahomoud, 28, as translators for the Marines questioned him sharply.
"They thought I was a terrorist," Mahomoud said, laughing, as he looked around the little wooden boat, a green net rigged up on four wooden poles to keep the sun at bay.
After the initial shock of being stopped wore off, Mahomoud said he decided the patrols were good. This little fishing village is less than an hour away by speed boat to the southern tip of Yemen, where earlier this month a reputed senior leader of al Qaida and five other suspected militants were killed by a CIA-guided missile.
"It's important to find terrorists, even if they come from Yemen or Somalia," Mahomoud said. But a note of worry crept into his voice, reflecting concerns among many people that Djibouti's more warlike neighbors will turn on them for being friendly with the United States.
But a fruit seller, stretched out behind stacks of oranges and mangoes and waving a fly swatter made of a plastic bag tied to a stick, declared her country is too poor to worry about foreign troops or terrorists.
"My only problem is if I can make enough money to buy food for my children," says Lula Ohaie, 38. "I don't hear anything on the radio about terrorists or Americans."
