Aid Memoir. Larry Hollingworth

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СКАЧАТЬ The round lost velocity as it passed through armoured plate, the footwell of the Land Rover and the boot on the right foot of Kate. Naturally, the crew did not stop. They raced on and arrived at the airport. In the quiet of the morning, we had heard the shot. The Land Rover parked alongside mine and Kate removed her boot. The round had not penetrated the skin, but her foot was sore. As the day progressed, it became a dark blue. She was lucky as she had been in Tien An Men. It was an omen for the day.

      The road from Sarajevo to Pale twists and turns, and the final kilometres are down a steep hill. The terrain in Egypt must be flatter. I know this because the Egyptian drivers, each and every one, drove down the hill slowing their ten-tonne vehicles laden with flour using just the brakes. The gear lever was an expensive cab ornament, not even used as an optional extra. I was not aware of this, as I proudly led the convoy waving to the children until the third vehicle burst into flames. The convoy stopped. I walked back to the vehicle, passing vehicles one and two, which smelt of burning rubber. The fire in the third was quickly extinguished. The vehicle was unloaded in Pale. Pleasing the locals and making a virtue out of necessity. The drivers were introduced to the gear lever and we proceeded.

      At Rogatica, the inspection team were vicious. But for a good reason. On this very day, the Bosnians had decided to break out of Gorazde, to end the siege. And apparently, they were doing well.

      – It is all your fault—I was told.

      – Mine? Why mine?

      – Because you took ammunition in last time—This was the second time this oft to be repeated accusation was made. I was horrified that they could even think of this. How naive I was.

      – It is not possible that we took in ammunition. Firstly, we are the United Nations. We are totally impartial. Secondly, I would never permit any war material on a convoy. Thirdly, you ransacked the convoy before it went in.

      – No we didn’t, we did a random search. You must have taken in ammunition. They are using weapons that they have not used before. Weapons and ammunition that they did not have before your last visit.

      This actually turned out to be true. But we had not taken it in; it had gone in via the mule route from a little place called Grebac. We later used it to send in food.

      The search was long and thorough and may have gone on forever had not the commander who had, on my first visit, insisted that I see the bodies arrive.

      – You have heard of the Muslim attack? Ah, now it was an attack.

      – Yes, I have and I have been accused of having taken in weapons last time. I am furious and demand an apology.

      He ignored me but continued—They have ambushed a mobile patrol of ours. We have tried to recover the bodies, but they have a sniper covering them. Will you please go and collect the bodies and bring them here?

      I thought quickly—I cannot collect them now. The sniper will probably shoot us. I will talk to the commander in Gorazde and ask him to call off the sniper. I will then try to collect the bodies on the way back. OK?

      – Please, Mr. Larry, the families know that they are dead and lying in the road. They want them back. I liked this man, he was a good man caught up in an evil war. He agreed that we could go forward but only if I accepted full responsibility. The Egyptian drivers may have been lacking in driving skills, but they were not lacking in courage. They wanted to go forward. The journalists also wanted to go forward, but they were told that Pale had forbidden them to go beyond Rogatica.

      Not everyone wanted to go forward. Lovely loyal driver Dragon came to see me.

      – Last time when we went in, they were killing Serbs on our way out. This time they are killing Serbs on the way in. Do you really need me? On this convoy we had brought three vehicles with aid and medicine for Rogatica.

      – No, my friend, I would much prefer you to distribute the aid here in Rogatica. I was then without a driver but not for long. A gentleman with previous Hereford skills and current camera expertise volunteered to leap into Dragon’s seat. He agreed to pool his resources for the benefit of his less fortunate colleagues. His camera was carefully stowed under my personal possessions, out of sight.

      We moved on. In the valley, we found the bodies. It had been a mobile patrol. They had been in a car. All three men were lying in the road. All very dead. It was a very hot day. We had to weave the APC and my vehicle around the bodies, as they almost blocked the road. I stopped my vehicle and discussed with my driver the moving of the bodies. We should have done but we didn’t. They were not a pretty sight, and if we handled them there was nowhere to wash our hands. Also, the sniper may not agree. So we drove on but, sickeningly, not all of our trucks could avoid the bodies.

      We could hear a lot of gunfire, but we were way up the twisty mountain road before we could positively see the change of fortunes. Near where Fabrizio had lost the APC, a Serb truck had been shot off the road. It had fallen down the side of the mountain and been stopped by a clump of trees. Bodies were strewn over the hill and around the vehicle. They were Serb and all had bullet wounds. The vehicle, probably containing reinforcements, had been ambushed.

      On the crest of the hill from where the Serb guns had pounded Gorazde, there was the most remarkable sight, the Bosnian flag was fluttering and a platoon of jubilant Gorazde fighters were sitting out of breath. I was at first disbelieving that they could be government troops, but then, from amongst them emerged the little round civilian who had been the first man Eric and I had seen when we entered Gorazde. He threw his arms around me. I was overwhelmed.

      – When? How?—I asked, spreading my arms.

      He was too emotional to reply. He just hugged me.

      I wanted to be in and out of Gorazde within the day. The last night move out of Gorazde had put me off night moves, and now that there was a battle raging, I did not want to be caught up in it.

      – We must move—I told our friend. He insisted on coming in with us.

      We descended down the hill to Gorazde. Government troops were everywhere. Sadly, they were burning houses and bizarrely cutting the throats of pigs which they found in the Serb farms. Muslim symbolism. The pigs were lying in the road squealing and squirming.

      Gorazde was chaotic. Last time we had been the star attraction. This time we were a side show. A welcome sideshow. I spoke to Major Bulabasic, the commander and the man responsible for the success of the day. He was tired, but he was not elated. He knew that he had won a battle but that the war was far from over for Gorazde.

      We did not unload the trucks where we had on the first occasion. They now had more territory and were able to use the old ammunition depot where it could be stored safely and issued safely. It was weird to use the road to the depot. The previous day, it would have meant certain death from the snipers. Today, it meant low risk, although there was still the odd round coming in. Not all the Serb sites were overrun.

      I maintained pressure to get out. There was enthusiasm from the convoy to stay and join in the festivities, but I was worried about a counterattack. If it came, it would be furious. It did eighteen months later and was far more evil than I had expected. It was also a shameful time for the UN. I collected some of the large plastic sheets that wrapped the pallets to collect the bodies in on our return.

      We began to leave late in the afternoon. My substitute driver had gone on a walkabout with no intention of returning, so I was behind the wheel. The French APC commander had not been on the first convoy. I had been to Gorazde before. СКАЧАТЬ