RAPE OF AN INNOCENT, DISHONOR IN THE RANKS

By EDWARD W. DESMOND/TOKYO

The scheme took shape, according to Japanese police, early in the evening of Monday, Sept. 4, the Labor Day holiday for Americans. Four U.S. servicemen stationed on Okinawa, home base to 29,000 American troops, met at a disco in Naha, the island's main city, and talked about grabbing an Okinawan girl and having some "fun." One man quickly backed out, but, he later told investigators, the other three, two Marines and a sailor, decided to cruise the seaside boulevards in search of prey.

After a few drinks, but still far from drunk, they left in a rented white Subaru sedan and headed toward Camp Hansen, home of a Marine Corps base, about 25 miles away on the island's east side. At about 8 p.m. they spotted a girl walking alone on a well-lighted stretch of road lined with storefronts and homes. The 12-year-old elementary school student had walked five minutes from her home to buy a notebook for school, which had begun just three days earlier.

The Subaru stopped alongside the girl, and two men got out. They said something to her in English, which she did not understand. Before she knew what was happening, they had thrown her into the back seat of the car, where they bound her eyes, mouth, arms and legs with tape. A little more than half a mile up the road, they parked, pulled their victim from the car and carried her to a deserted stretch of beach. They tore off the tape, and for 15 minutes at least two of the men raped her, before driving away.

The crime was far from the first or even the worst committed by American troops in the half-century they have been stationed in Japan. Nonetheless, the Okinawa rape is the biggest shock to the U.S.-Japan security alliance in years. Last week major Japanese newspapers called for a revision of the agreement governing the presence of U.S. forces in their country, and some even questioned Japan's $4.8 billion contribution to the upkeep of the 94 U.S. military facilities located there.

Masahide Ota, Okinawa's Governor, flew to Tokyo to lodge a protest with U.S. Ambassador Walter Mondale and the Japanese government. Ota and most other Okinawans want the island's 40 American facilities, which occupy 20% of its land, to be moved elsewhere. Now that the Russian threat to Japan has receded, many Okinawans have lost patience with daily live-fire exercises, roaring F-15 jets and rowdy American service members. Polls show that as many as 80% of the islanders want the bases either closed or greatly reduced in size. "The people," says Ota, "are fed up with the problems that go with living so close to huge bases in a small area."

Hardly anyone in Washington or Tokyo believes the current furor will lead to the closing of the bases. They are still important for Japan's defense, especially given tensions with North Korea and China, as well as for the credibility of the U.S. security commitment to Asia. In 1991 U.S. Marines and logistics units based in Okinawa played a crucial part in the Gulf War. Nonetheless, the uproar made U.S. officials uneasy because this week Tokyo and Washington plan to sign a five-year agreement covering Japan's financial contribution to the support of the American troops. In addition, President Bill Clinton and Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama plan to stress the importance of their countries' defense ties during the November meeting in Osaka of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation forum.

Anti-U.S. feeling in Japan has sharpened as a result of trade disputes over the past two years, and Washington is eager to calm the tensions. So, for diplomatic reasons, and no doubt feeling genuine moral outrage, Mondale was quick to apologize for the Okinawa rape. Appearing on a Larry King radio special, Clinton said the U.S. "deeply regrets" the incident. "We do not condone any misconduct or any abuse of the Japanese people," he said. "We think that anyone who violates the laws should be treated accordingly."

It was a dispute over how to apply Japanese law to the alleged rapists that turned a crime into an international incident. After the suspects left the scene, the girl found her way to a house nearby and called home. She was admitted to a hospital where doctors determined that she had no serious physical injuries. Police quickly alerted U.S. military police, who traced the Subaru rental. A day after the assault, they detained Marine Privates Kendrick Ledet, 20, and Rodrico Harp, 21, and Navy Seaman Marcus Gill, 22. Ledet and Gill have since confessed to the allegations, while Harp is denying them.

When Japanese police arrived to take custody of the three, however, the U.S. military police denied the request, invoking Article 17, Paragraph 5C of the 1960 Status of Forces Agreement, which covers the rights and obligations of U.S. forces in Japan. The U.S. is obliged to hand over criminal suspects only after they have been indicted. In some countries, like South Korea, the U.S. does not surrender accused service members until they are convicted and have exhausted all appeals. In the Okinawa case, the U.S. compromised by permitting the police to take the suspects each day for questioning, but insisted that they stay overnight in the brig at Camp Hansen.

The decision angered local police. "We would get a lot more done if we had them in confinement here," said an investigating officer. But U.S. military lawyers stood firm: Article 17 is aimed at protecting the rights of U.S. service members in a country where police solve the vast majority of cases by pulling confessions out of suspects, a record not achieved by gentle means.

Once Japanese authorities produce an indictment, which is expected this week, the U.S. will give up the suspects for trial and, if they are convicted, let them be imprisoned in Japan. Still, the special protection for Americans rankles. Says Tsutomu Arakaki, deputy chairman of the Okinawa Bar Association: "Why should U.S. military personnel be above the law? It's been 35 years since the agreement was drawn up, and it's time for a review." In an effort to salve Japanese public opinion, Tokyo and Washington have agreed to form a committee to study the treaty, but both sides cautioned that neither government felt substantial changes were in order.

For Okinawans, the special treatment afforded U.S. service members is symbolic of a deeper problem. The bases represent the latest face of the hard fate that Okinawa has endured since the once independent kingdom, the heart of the Ryukyu island chain, was annexed by Japan in 1879. The Japanese then tried with partial success to exterminate the local culture and language. Toward the end of World War II, 150,000 local people--nearly a third of the population--and 12,520 U.S. troops and 100,000 Japanese soldiers died there in the bloodiest of the campaigns in the Pacific.

The U.S. retained control of the island until 1972, when it was returned to Tokyo. But the islanders believe that Tokyo sees Okinawa, one of the poorest prefectures in Japan and the only one with a distinctive, non-Japanese culture, as a second-rate part of the country. One measure of that disrespect, say Okinawans, is the heavy presence of U.S. bases. Nearly two-thirds of all American service members in Japan are stationed on Okinawa, yet the island accounts for less than 1% of the nation's territory. Says Ota: "There is no denying that the security treaty with the U.S. is important, but why isn't the burden spread more evenly around Japan? Why does Okinawa have to pay the price all by itself?"

Okinawans are convinced that part of the "price" is a high crime rate, although official statistics suggest that U.S. service members are on average no less law-abiding than Okinawans. But it is inevitable that some citizens would resent the hulking, alien troops, who live on large compounds with apartment towers, golf driving ranges, low-price commissaries and Burger Kings. The bases once accounted for half the island's economy, but the figure is now only 5%.

Many people believe that the installations stand in the way of a better future. The huge areas reserved for U.S. troops, as well as related restrictions on airspace and sea-lanes, limit possible locations for new tourist resorts, the mainstay of an economy that has twice the unemployment of central Japan. The rape of a 12-year-old girl, outrageous in itself, has crystallized Okinawans' sense of grievance against the powers in Washington and Tokyo that control the island's destiny.

--Reported by Irene M. Kunii/Okinawa

With reporting by IRENE M. KUNII/OKINAWA