Fighting for the French Foreign Legion Page 15

  Our first task was to find safe accommodation for the rest of the Regiment who were due to join us the following week. I was appalled at the conditions these men had been living in. They had done nothing to improve their conditions or take even the most basic security steps, like putting sandbags on the flat roof of our building, or protecting the windows from direct fire or shrapnel from exploding shells.

  What the hell had they been doing? I wasn’t surprised that they had suffered so many injuries. That would all change, but we could do little before the others arrived. It was decided that we would install two of the companies on the ground floor of the main terminal. The airport was closed to civilian traffic so that wasn’t a problem. Indoor recreation facilities would have to be created as it was impossible to go outside.

  General morale and fitness would play an important part in the months to come. The admin company, medical facilities, catering and the two other combat companies would take up residence in the customs warehouses, and the command section would sleep and work from the customs office block where I had spent my first night. Major changes would have to be made to increase security, with the construction of proper guard posts and shelters round the perimeter, and the main buildings would be properly protected by blast banks, with all windows covered over. That was the plan anyway, but it would take some time to implement. In the meantime we just had to make do with what we had. Some of the offices exposed to direct fire were closed off immediately and we started to mark out the zones to be occupied by the incoming companies.

  Under the airport occupation agreement both sides had designated ‘observers’ who seemed to be able to walk about the airport with little or no restriction. But that all changed immediately. They weren’t pleased in the least and complained loudly, but from the day we arrived we issued new passes that limited their access to areas where they could check humanitarian goods coming through the airport, and that was it.

  They were denied access to all buildings, including our eating facilities. All civilian catering staff were dismissed which just left two girls, one Serb and one Bosnian, who worked for us officially as interpreters. They lived in our block but even they had their freedom to roam severely curtailed. They had both worked as UN interpreters before the troubles had started and had UN security clearance. Even so, we were careful about what documents they saw.

  The customs compound comprised a detached two-storey office block, a single-storey warehouse and a two-storey warehouse. The office block was turned into our headquarters, with the offices on the first floor and the living accommodation on the ground floor. There was also a large air-conditioned Portakabin at the end of the office block protected by an earth bank.

  The larger of the two hangars was made up of two two-storey buildings with a covered hall giving access to the two wings. The ground floor of one wing was turned into a hospital which would be manned by the medical staff from our own regiment. The ground floor of the other wing was turned into accommodation for the admin company and one of the combat companies. The upper floor was divided into a conference hall and a sports area where we could play badminton and volleyball. The floor above the hospital became an equipment store.

  An observation post was built on the flat roof of the central hall which gave us a good view towards the city. The conference hall would be the location for future peace negotiations between the two sides. Space was at a premium for everyone, with the HQ block having to accommodate ten officers, five NCOs and ten other ranks, plus the two female interpreters. There were also a toilet block with showers, a Dutch signals detachment of six men, our offices and operations room. It was a bit of a squeeze to say the least, but these were not normal times. For power we had a generator accessed by scrambling through a window in the shower room, which was always interesting if you happened to be having a shower at the time.

  The terminal building also had to accommodate all the other personnel required to operate the airport: firemen, air traffic controllers, aircraft handling staff, mechanics and engineers, all of whom were crucial in keeping the airport operational. The military airlift ran seven days a week. All the staff were from the UN and most were delighted when they saw the changes we were about to make to their living conditions. We had to strike a happy balance with those already there, assuring them that any changes we made would take into account their requirements. Overall morale improved for everyone and as the risk factor was reduced, life would become a lot easier.

  As already described, our first night at the airport was a real example of what was to come. If the intention of the opposing sides was to make an impression on us, they certainly succeeded. Some of the heavy artillery and mortar rounds were landing just yards from the perimeter fence but we would have to wait until morning to find out if there had been any damage. There was a dusk to dawn curfew imposed on us by our Colonel with only essential personnel venturing out to perform specific duties. To us, the uninitiated, it sounded as if the rounds were landing on our heads. The ground shook continuously and it took a considerable effort to force yourself to lay your head on the pillow and shut your eyes. I have no doubt that a direct hit would have come right through the building.

  We were told that the key word in UN peacekeeping was ‘transparency’. Everything we did was meant to be open to scrutiny. That little bit of brilliant thinking had been put in place by politicians who never had to put their own lives on the line, and of course it didn’t apply to them. Perhaps it wasn’t explained properly to us but our Colonel took the words ‘everything we did’ to mean just that. It didn’t say we had to let anyone see how we went about achieving what we did.

  Although I was still under the orders of my own Colonel in Chief and the head of the BOI, I was also working with a captain from a French specialist Intelligence regiment who had been assigned to the Regiment for the duration of our mission. We got on very well and he treated me as an equal as far as work was concerned. I respected his rank and we had a good working relationship. I will just call him Captain D. There were times when it was difficult for him to integrate with the Legion officers – he was there to perform a particular task but there were those who wanted him to perform normal regimental duties.

  My first task was to build up a portfolio on the military liaison officers from the Bosnian and Serbian armies. The information we had was very sketchy and nobody had prepared such a dossier for our arrival. In fact, I was beginning to wonder what the departing regiment had been doing over the last four months. The girls were able to provide me with some details and I set out to photograph secretly the delegations from both sides when they were invited to our base to be introduced to our Colonel. I also photographed the inspection teams who came to the airport each day. It was a bit of basic police work and I set up a collation system for the incoming intelligence, no matter how unimportant it seemed at the time.

  I had been allocated one of the new French four-man, light-armoured, combat vehicles known as a VBL. It was fabulous and could take small-arms fire without any problem. The shape of it was designed to deflect the blast from a mine or small rocket, although it wouldn’t withstand a direct hit from an anti-tank rocket or anything like that. It was certainly a hell of a lot better than the Land Rovers the British Army use in Afghanistan today.

  I was listed on the UN personnel declaration as a ‘staff driver’, and was issued with a UN driving licence and ID pass which gave me right of access to all territories in the execution of my UN duties. In principle this gave me a certain freedom to roam in areas that perhaps I should not have been in. It was common practice for the Serbs to look into vehicles but they did not have the right to search them.

  Under the UN rules we were not permitted to use any equipment which could be interpreted as being used for spying. This included photographic equipment, but I fitted video recording equipment into the VBL which I could operate remotely using a tiny fibre-optic lens. I filmed wherever I went as I wanted as much footage as possible inside the Serbian milit
ary base at Lukavica Barracks, the Serbian Army HQ just to the west of the airport. The layout of the camp was of interest and I wanted to see what kind of equipment was lying about in the form of tanks and heavy artillery. Most of it was hidden under camouflage netting and invisible from the air. I also wanted to see who was coming and going at the base and was able to match some of the faces with those of the ‘neutral inspectors’ at the airport. They were obviously there to pass on information about us and it was good to know who was who.

  Captain D and I visited the Serbian base frequently and I would drop him off for his meetings, then drive further into the base to turn round. I would venture further into the camp on each visit until one day I was stopped and turned back by a rather irate Serbian officer. I was in the middle of a huge parking area which was filled with row after row of old soviet T62 and T76 main battle tanks, which quite frankly looked the worse for wear. What had attracted my attention was a row of vehicles with covers over their loads. From the outline I took it that they were missiles of some sort, and quite large ones at that, but I was ordered out of the area and would have to try at a later date to get a better look.

  The American pilots bringing in supplies had reported that they had been ‘lit’ by tracking systems when they had flown over the area, but these looked much bigger than I would have expected if they were anti-aircraft missiles. Back at the airport I reviewed each day’s filming with Captain D and would copy anything out of the ordinary to be sent back to France for further analysis. We both thought that the covered loads needed further investigation. Perhaps an expert would be able to tell us what they were from their outlines.

  Each night was a repeat of the first and the shelling got more intense with the arrival of the rest of the Regiment. This had been going on for over a year and the civilian population must have been totally traumatized. I had only been here for a fortnight and it already seemed like months. We were taking casualties from sniper fire and although the injuries were not serious it was only a question of time before there would be a serious incident. Our transmission aerials and satellite dishes were on the roof of our building and had to be repaired every night. One particular sniper seemed to be using them for target practice during the day if he had nothing else to shoot at.

  It was getting colder every day and I was glad that we had been issued with proper cold-weather gear back in Calvi. I am not ashamed to confess that I had brought out several pairs of ladies’ tights with me. They were far lighter and just as warm as the thick arctic underwear that some of the lads had bought in specialist survival shops at specialist prices. I was not the only one and we had the last laugh when the others were literally ‘freezing their balls off’. After a couple of weeks at -20°C those without girlfriends were begging us to get tights for them.

  TRAINING TO BE SHEEPDOGS ON ‘THE CROSSING’

  Every night, hundreds of Bosnians would try to cross the airfield to freedom. It was our duty to stop them, round them up and take them back to the outer fence where we released them back into the city. It was all part of the UN agreement to keep the airport open for humanitarian aid flights.

  Dobrinja was a Bosnian enclave on the city side of the airport linked to the heart of the city by a series of deep trenches. The objective of those trying to cross was to make it to the village of Butmir, and from there over Mont Igman, before making the long trek to the coast and freedom. Ammunition was brought into the city by the same route and we also knew that Islamic militants were getting into the city via this route. This was long before the Bosnians dug the famous tunnel to freedom under the airport. Even that was not used by everyone as it was controlled by criminal gangs who demanded large sums of money from those trying to flee the city, so even after it was built the nightly crossings continued.

  Each night as darkness fell, up to eight VABs (armoured personnel carriers), with a full combat group in each, went out onto the crossing zone. They would then spend the entire night during the hours of darkness rounding up those trying to cross. Night vision equipment had to be worn as any light from our vehicles helped the Serbian snipers and machine gunners to lay down a carpet of fire. Working in groups of three or four VABs, they would form a protective shield round those trying to cross. The majority of those trying to cross were not combatants but women and children who were desperate enough to try and get out of the city, away from the living hell that was their daily lives.

  The VABs would surround a group to protect them from the gunfire and a VAB would be driven into the protected area, with the rear of the vehicle facing away from the direction of the gunfire. The legionnaires then had to get out onto the open ground and direct the civilians into the back of the VAB. This was extremely dangerous work being done under a constant hail of fire. There were many stories about how the Legion was helping the Serbs by lighting up the ‘crossing zone’ with searchlights, but there was absolutely no truth in this. The legionnaires suffered casualties and risked their lives every night to try and protect these desperate people. This went on all night, every night. If those rounded up were uninjured, they were taken back to the hole they had cut in the fence and barbed wire. It was a policy that none of us were happy with but these were our orders in keeping with the UN agreement for control of the airport.

  Many of the civilians were seriously injured or killed and had to be taken into our medical facilities at the airport where the Legion doctors and medics worked hard to save their lives. Some lived, some didn’t. The only good thing to come out of the situation was the wealth of expertise our medical staff were gaining and each night they were more capable of treating the victims more successfully.

  I cannot emphasize enough the outstanding bravery shown by the legionnaires who had to go out there night after night to help others. Not surprisingly I take exception to journalists like Jeremy Bowen of the BBC, who alleges in his book War Stories that the legionnaires ‘played games’ with the Bosnians trying to cross. When we first heard these stories being bandied about by the press, I was sent to the Holiday Inn in Sarajevo where Jeremy Bowen and his fellow press colleagues were staying, to invite them to go out on the crossing at night to experience for themselves what was happening. Not one of them took up the offer. Perhaps the bar was a more attractive option. My humble contribution to this nightly exercise was to take my turn to go out onto the crossing in a VBL, along with the duty officer for the night, whose job it was to orchestrate the use of the VABs. I would be driving with the use of night-vision goggles and the sky would be full of tracer rounds. You have to have total confidence in the armour of the vehicle and, in particular, in the bullet-proof glass of the windscreen.

  My first night on the crossing scared the shit out of me and I didn’t even have to get out of the vehicle. Watching the tracer rounds arc almost in slow motion across the tarmac just feet off the ground, is impressive to say the least. The sound of the impacts on the side of my VBL made me jump and it was impossible not to duck on seeing a tracer round heading for your windscreen. There were five of us sharing this duty and we decided to do three nights in a row which gave us twelve days off crossing duties. We would come in at about 6.00 am and were allowed to sleep until midday. It was also the quietest time of the day as both sides seemed to be in bed as well.

  MY FIRST CLOSE ENCOUNTER

  On the afternoon of 19 January 1993, just weeks after we had arrived, I was sent out to take a look at a Serbian area at the western end of the runway. There had been reports of heavy machine-gun fire from the area, aimed across the runway at the village of Butmir. One problem was that the rounds were passing just behind our sentry post at the northern entry to the airport. Anyone going to or from the post was getting caught up in the crossfire.

  I went out in my VBL to the area in question but was unable to see anything because of the earth bank. The only answer was to get out, climb to the top of the bank, peek over the top and have a look. It might sound crazy but I was wearing the distinctive blue helmet of the UN and was wearing
my flak jacket. I didn’t exactly stand up on the top of the banking and wave my hands about, but lay down as I approached the top and then scanned the area with my latest gadget, range-finding binoculars. You focus on an object, press a button and the distance and compass bearing to it come up in your vision. The buildings were a bit shot up and obviously uninhabited. They were little more than a pile of rubble. At first glance the area was deserted but as I looked a bit closer at the detail, I could see trenches running between the buildings. It takes time to realize what you are looking at, especially if it is the first time you have been so close to buildings adapted for urban warfare. All our training had been done in whole buildings, not ruins, which would actually have been a lot more realistic.

  Objects began to take form and I could see that there were anti-personnel mines all over the place in the long grass in front of the buildings. I had just taken a photograph when all hell broke loose. There was a machine-gun post at the centre of the buildings which opened up on me. I didn’t know if he was aiming low intentionally, but I was struck in the face by bits of rock-hard earth kicked up from the bank. My camera was knocked clean out of my hands and I slid down the side of the earth bank. I lay there for a while to regain some of my composure before scrambling back to the safety of my VBL. I sat there for five minutes and was about to drive off when I realized that the camera was still lying at the foot of the earth bank. I quickly retrieved it before heading back to my office rather quicker than I had left it. Unknown to me, the guard post at the entrance gate had witnessed the incident and had reported it to the operations room. Once I was back inside the safety of the office I realized that I was sweating despite it being below zero outside, and I was shaking. I was still wearing my helmet when the Colonel came into the room, asked me if I was all right and pointed at my head. I took off my helmet and was surprised to see a large tear in the cover and a 4-inch groove in the helmet just right of centre. These were still our own metal helmets, but not long after the incident we were issued with new Kevlar helmets which were reported to be capable of stopping a bullet from a pistol at 5 metres.