STARY HROZENKOV, Czech Republic -- With only the stars in the cloudless night sky to guide him, Vit Blaho picks his way along the low ridge separating the Czech Republic from Slovakia, his eyes trained on the woods to either side, his ears alert to any unusual sounds.

"It's pretty much just luck if we manage to find anyone," the 32-year-old border guard sighs as he patrols the 10-mile stretch of frontier his station is assigned to cover. "There are lots of them," he says of the illegal immigrants he's meant to intercept, "and not very many of us."

In fact, on this chilly night there are only four: Blaho walks the rocky ridge-top path by himself, while his partner keeps an eye on a Jeep road a half-mile away. A two-man canine patrol lower in the valley follows the trained nose of a German shepherd.

"We need at least seven patrols to cover this part of the border," Blaho says, gazing out into the dark night. "But it's rare that we even have two."

And that worries those charged with stopping the flood of economic migrants looking to clean houses, mow lawns or hammer nails in Paris, London, Frankfurt, Germany, or Prague, the Czech capital. At least 10,000 people a month illegally cross from central and eastern Europe into western Europe, according to Migration News Sheet of Brussels, Belgium.

Most border formalities between European Union member states were removed in 1993, meaning that illegal immigration must be stopped at the outer boundary of the union. That frontier is now the eastern borders of Germany and Austria, where border police have budgets and equipment to match their countries' economic strength.

Their responsibility

As the union expands sometime in the next decade, however, protecting its borders will become the responsibility of the poorer and less-organized countries of central and eastern Europe -- the Czech Republic, Estonia, Poland, Hungary and Slovenia. EU authorities fear that the new members' borders will be too porous.

"We think there's considerable work to be done," says David Ringrose, deputy chief of the EU's delegation in Prague.

While the problems of patrolling the eastern borders of Poland and Hungary will no doubt create substantial headaches, the border between the Czech Republic and Slovakia presents a unique problem. Six years ago, it didn't exist. During the 74 years of the Czechoslovak federation, it was regarded as an internal boundary, like the line between Maryland and Pennsylvania. There were no security forces along the rivers, ridges and meadows that five years ago became the frontier between the independent Czech and Slovak republics.

Today, the roads and paths that crisscross the area are the main route of entry for illegal immigrants to the Czech Republic. In 1997, nearly 2,500 people from Kosovo, Afghanistan, Iraq and points farther afield were detained while illegally crossing the Czech-Slovak border. This year's totals are running about 20 percent ahead of last year's. Most officials estimate that only 5 percent to 10 percent of those who make the crossing are caught -- which means that perhaps 1,500 to 2,500 people per month get through.

Maj. Josef Kubanik, who heads enforcement on the toughest section, a 22-mile stretch that includes Stary Hrozenkov, knows why. A bear of a man who wears his shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist, Kubanik cites inadequacies in staffing and equipment.

Batteries on the radios the patrols carry are so old they run out half-way through a shift. Only six vehicles are available, and each allotted just 40 gallons of gasoline per month -- about a week's worth of driving. Kubanik's headquarters has no holding cell for the immigrants his agents manage to intercept. "We don't even have enough money for toilet paper," he says, "so we have to bring our own."

German patrols, by contrast, have electronic detection systems, helicopters, four-wheel-drive vehicles -- and enough gasoline to operate them.

Broken spider webs

Kubanik's men -- most of whom come from local villages and have years of experience in the woods and hills around Stary Hrozenkov -- rely on instinct and centuries-old methods of detection, taking their cues from broken spider webs, spooked animals or snapped twigs.

The guides -- mostly local Czechs and Slovaks -- who lead illegal immigrants across the border outman and outgun the police. Many have cellular telephones, radios and vans that can carry 30 or more people per trip. On nights when they want to move immigrants, they simply track the police patrols and then find an unmanned route across the border.

"The criminals are always a step ahead of us," Kubanik says with a gesture toward the map sitting above his desk. "They figure out a new route, some new method. And then we have to catch up with them, so they figure out something even newer. It's like a game, but a dangerous one."

From her crowded office in Prague, Lucie Sladkova is doing her best as head of the migration department of the Czech national police to help Kubanik, Blaho and their 4,000 colleagues patrolling the country's borders. But she is nearly as frustrated as the men and women on the front line.

She has secured a $2.76 million grant from the European Union for training, communications, a data network, infra-red night-vision equipment and electronic sensors. Eventually, she would like to see the Czechs as well-equipped as their German counterparts, and to double the number of men and women on the force -- a recommendation made by a group of European Union experts.

Most of all, Sladkova says, there must be a change in the mind-set in favor of open borders that came after the fall of communism. Closed borders were one of the most odious aspects of the Communist system, she says. Those who illegally crossed borders were heroes, and Czechoslovakia proudly created an open-border regime after 1989.

Tougher restrictions opposed

There is pressure to keep it. While Sladkova and the police call for bringing visa restrictions into line with the European Union -- which would tighten entry requirements for nearby countries such as Romania, for example -- the country's new deputy prime minister for European integration has said he opposes such a move.

Many of the illegal immigrants come from areas of conflict such as Kosovo, the rebellious Yugoslav province, and Afghanistan, prompting fears that legitimate refugees fearing political persecution or discrimination will be deported along with economic migrants.

That's of little concern to Blaho as he makes his nightly rounds. At a crossing he suddenly stops, turns and listens to rustling in the bushes. It proves to be a foraging wild boar. Blaho recalls one foggy night on the same path when he caught 28 people huddled in the bushes. After he and his partner discovered them, many scattered, but eventually the police rounded them all up.

"We were lucky that night," he says. "They didn't know where they were and couldn't tell which direction they were going, while we knew the area and were able to round them all up. We had the advantage that night. But usually they do."

Pub Date: 10/29/98