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Considering the level of violence in El Salvador, the American servicemen there (U.S. officials call them "trainers," fearing that "advisers" evokes memories of Viet Nam) have until now been extraordinarily fortunate: so far, only one has been injured, an Army sergeant wounded in the leg last February while flying over a combat zone in a helicopter. The trainers' present duties involve everything from advising generals in San Salvador on strategy to instructing raw recruits around the country in small-unit counterinsurgency tactics. The trainers also give lessons in the use and maintenance of U.S. helicopters, communication gear and weaponry. In preparation for a major government offensive expected within a month, some U.S. advisers have been coaching Salvadorans in San Vicente department, while others have been working with local soldiers in Usulután department. The Americans are encouraged to let Salvadoran officers make their own decisions. But, says one government soldier, "nothing gets done unless the gringos say so."
Though they are armed with .45-cal. pistols, the trainers are advised to wear civilian clothes and maintain a low profile. Off-duty, they usually confine themselves to restaurants, cinemas and discotheques in the more affluent—and presumably safer—parts of San Salvador. On-duty, they are required by a Pentagon directive to avoid combat zones, though their training duties are forcing them increasingly closer to the fighting. "The trick," says one, "is not to get caught." Not everyone has mastered that trick. One American was sent home in February 1982 after some advisers under his command were filmed by a U.S. television crew toting M-16s while helping rebuild a demolished bridge. Four months ago, three more advisers were forced to leave the country when it was discovered that they had been assisting a government operation in defense of the vital Cuscatlan Bridge. Many of the trainers nonetheless remain eager to exert more influence over the conduct of the war. Says one: "It's like trying to treat a chest wound with a Band-Aid."
With Schaufelberger's death, Salvadorans lost a gringo who spoke eloquently, and often, about their country's plight. A graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Md., he had told reporters only days before his death that he was anxious to protect "the good, ordinary people" of El Salvador. He was sharply critical of wealthy Salvadoran exiles who neglected their homeland, and he often asserted that revolutions arise from generations of injustice and repression. In San Diego, not far from the house Schaufel berger owned in Chula Vista, his sister Margaret said, "He saw this as an opportunity to put his training and experience into operation. He was always positive in describing his situation there."