Bosnia - My Picture

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
Please read the forward, this is a true but graphic account, please leave feedback, positive or negative.

Submitted: March 04, 2014

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Submitted: March 04, 2014

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Bosnia – My Picture


Forward


I will always be honest, unless I suggest otherwise the story I tell will be a true one with no caveats.  I will never add names of those I have served with either, not because I have anything to hide, more out of respect as well and some of these stories will be new to them also, not everything you see or do on tours is shared and discussed so openly.  It has taken me near 20 years to come to terms with some of the sights and scenes of what I have bore witnessed to and so now I have decided to share/tell such stories in order so I can help myself and others in coming to terms with the demons of the human race.
Please be aware this story has some graphic detail regarding certain incidents that occurred, I do not apologise for writing about it, as it highlights the horrors of conflict in the name of religion and race that I feel need to be brought to the world’s attention.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 1

Introduction


In 1991 I Had witnessed the over whelming sight and reality of the modern day battle field, it was referred to as “generic Warfare” – force meets force and the stronger will defeat the not so strong.  So much death and misery at such an early stage in my military career, a period of time that I had hoped even though I was in the Army, I would not witness again, not in a hurry anyway. 


Prior to this venture, I had never paid any attention to the troubles in Yugoslavia, not even sure when they first started.My first memories of any such discussion or knowledge on the matter was in 1993. I remember, alongside other members of the troop I was serving in, we were helping in the Pre deployment training of a Scottish Infantry Regiment preparing for deployment in the guise of the UN, white armoured vehicles with the lettering “UN” written on the side, (Nice targets I thought).  I recall a certain cold and miserable day on Hohne ranges where a colleague was nearly reversed over by a Warrior as the crew had given up trying to negotiate with him (he was acting as a disgruntled local), never seen a man move like a cat before or since, he instinctivetly pounced to the side to prevent being run over, we laughed later, a few harsh words forwarded before the laughter though.


The Regiment was now in UK and the year was 1995, we had been warned off for UN Operations early that year and then stood down.  Towards the end of the very same year we were again stood back up to deploy only this time in the new guise of NATO, it appeared the world had become frustrated to the UN being powerless to act and that a new more robust approach was to be employed, the birth of “IFOR”.  “Implementation Force” a new approach indeed, we were told that the armies of NATO would now deploy and enforce peace not just attempt to monitor it, no more white painted armour, back to the olive green and black colours we were used to.


If the internet had been as alive then as it is today, I wonder how I would have prepared myself, for example in 2006 prior to my deployment to Iraq (I have no regrets about doing so), I watched countless videos (thank you Ogrish.com) on the effects of IEDs, snipers and insurgents, even the beheading of a captured westerner.I saw this as mental preparation although I will admit I felt physically sick on many occasions.  I wish I had been as ready for Bosnia, as the reality of ethnic cleansing in the manner it was being conducted in Bosnia was truly overwhelming, disgusting and mentally painful.  No words to describe what, in the so called name of religion and belief, people who had shared the same country for so long in harmony, had now chosen to kill each other in such a ferocious way without a thought and in ways that I can only describe as mindless slaughter of so many  innocent lives.


The following story captures one day in that tour of Bosnia one that I can only describe as similar to the Desert story, a moment in time that I have never fully recovered from.  I kept those pictures to myself why? Simple enough, I think it unfair to share painful pictures with others, knowing that they will then carry the same pictures and pain around is not fair also.  I am not suggesting that I am strong, merely it’s my way of boxing the pain away until I am ready to open and attempt to deal with it.

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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 2


The Journey there


I can only suggest that the day in question would have been around a few weeks into the tour, we were busy, very busy.  We were driving around our areas of responsibility in two vehicle packets (2 scimitar CVR(T), moving from one front line to the other (Serbian lines to the Muslim lines), monitoring movement, plotting positions and ascertaining likely intentions to understand their mindset and meet with the soldiers we were encountering. 


On this very special day, we had been tasked to visit a Serbian Artillery company, I had this picture of driving to the said destination and meeting with around 100 soldiers and their supporting artillery pieces, the reality was to be somewhat different. 


The Serbian Army had a truly remarkable and inspiring method in building of their fortresses of interlocking fighting bunkers which made up their front lines. The cabins due to their picturesque nature, would have been better placed in Scandinavian holiday resorts/destinations, an overwhelming remarkably beautiful sight. I recall marvelling at their design and being speechless at the perfection of joinery that had been employed to build a structure which was to be used purely for war fighting.  Inside, located in the corners where small metal log burners with a thicker metal plate on top for heating a kettle completed with an integral chimney system. Further benches and beds used by the left over wood where scattered around to help in the comfort of the soldiers.  Their perfect design meant they would have absorbed bullets and protected its inhabitants against light artillery barrages with ease, at the same time the bunkers looked common to scenes from the First World War not modern day battle fields. To add to the bunkers, to enforce their unusual nature and positioning, the soldiers that inhabited them, would be more often than not sat outside smoking, drinking locally produced vodka (I drank some of this and I can assure you, there is no alcohol on the British market that can down a man like it), laughing and carrying on, a hunters cabin more than a war placement.


Packed lunches collected, vehicles readied, we equipped ourselves and walked (escorted) our vehicles to the front gate (speed limit and general safety in the camps we were stationed in always stunned me, no matter what theatre of operations we found ourselves, safety was paramount), we, the Commander and I, climbed aboard our Scimitar 21A and we joined the other vehicle (our troop leaders call sign) and we headed out, firstly on tarmac, what I would suggest were akin to B roads and then after a short period onto single lane mud tracks.  The tracks were unique, weaving in and out of trees, clearly implemented and designed so to utilise cover from air and ground.  All the way to any of our destinations, we would witness the sad sights of the recent troubles, clear signs of death and mindless massacre, you would never had or were to hear any words spoken along these journeys, more moments of shock and sadness “Did a human do this?”.  I recall driving alongside a river this very day, along this said river, trees had fallen over hanging half in half out of the water and bodies that had been thrown into the river in a way of disposing of them, lay bent over, bloated and pure white in colour.  I wondered as to their history and suffering, surely no human need to have its phyiscal carrier disposed of in this manner.


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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 2


The Journey there


We knew we were getting closer as the signs annotating (in Serbian) a formation nearby were more apparent, mine signs were also more common.  We passed on our left what was once a tipper truck, now converted into an anti air gun (ZPU 2 for those who are interested) platform painted in Serbian Army camouflage colours, we had been told that this type of vehicle was now used for mowing down advancing infantry.  I envisaged it a similar effect to that of the machine guns of the First World War, where men would climb perfectly good trenches and then run at the enemy encamped positions, I do have to ask what the command structure was thinking, in enforcing this approach of attack, so many gave so much and yet here I am seeing it all again 80 years on, what a screwed up world we live in!


The occasional Serbian soldier would be seen stood in the open or next to a structure, on guard I presume, we attempted a friendly wave which was normally met with a scowl, spit of phlegm and general look of distaste and anger at our presence.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 3


Why?


Continung along the tracks and with the wood fighiting bunkers to our right, the forest gave way to an open grassed area (500 x 500 metres) we slowed and parked our vehicles.  To our immediate right a row of three infantry bunkers about 30 metres apart which overlooked a deep and picturesque valley, on the other side of the valley the Muslim opposing armed forces could be clearly seen moving around, walking and running to buses which would be taking them from their fighting positions, easy targets I thought! To the left was an steadily rising embankment with slightly worn and muddied foot paths to and from the fighting positions and the top of the embankment.  The embankment peaked at around 100 metres in height and on top could be seen the roof of another building. We all dismounted from our vehicles and the drivers were instructed to stay with the vehicles. In front were around 200 Serbian Soldiers, stood around laughing and jeering at themselves and us, not a threatening gesture given, more so, as if they were expecting us this day and were glad to see us (little did I know the reasons for their manner initially).


“Ian!, go up there and see what’s in there”, my commander pointed to the embankment and roof “there are wires coming out and a lot of them, see what is going on and whats inside” I turned to the vehicle and opened up a side stowage bin on my vehicle and retrieved my personal oversized first aid kit. This consisted of two rocket pouches (the two pouches that fit on the side of an issue Army bergan can be removed and zipped together to make a patrol sack/s) sewn as one and filled with enough first aid supplies for a very bad day on the battlefield, why I grabbed it and put it on is anyone’s guess. Making sure I had my weapon, ammo and anything else I could think to carry, I turned to my Commander, “Ok, I’ll let you know, back in a few minutes” I said “be careful and call if you need anything” he replied.


I didn’t notice straight away but after I started up the embankment towards the roofed structure the Serbian soldiers had steadily become silent, I turned and viewed their new expressions, a face of concern on many, whilst others whispered in others ears, one or two shaking their heads, "I wonder?" I thought, as I walked and viewed their expressions I felt a slight unease, from laughing and joking to near silence, there was clearly something afoot and although I didn’t know it at the time, I was about to witness the worst human to human interaction I would see “ever”.


I continued to climb the embankment and as the top of the embankment cleared and came into view, it opened up onto an amazing picturesque plateau and one that was of postcard quality.  A stunning wood cabin, about the size of a one bedroom wooden bungalow with a cone shaped chimney pot, sat smack in the centre of the plateau, a scene akin to a cowboy film I pondered.This sight inturn was re-enforced by the wigwam style hay stack situated to the right and rear of the building about 20 metres or so away to the rear.  A wood cutters style wood stump sat left of the front door (located at the right of the building) of the cabin which was itself surrounded by smaller pieces of wood cut to support a log fire, no axe, I noted.  Wires of many colours and thickness protruded from a small hole top left hand corner of the cabin, they in turn ran horizontally to a make shift pole half way down the embankment where the wires then ran in three separate directions off to the fighting bunkers at the foot of the embankment, why so many wires I considered?


There was no sign of life in the immediate area, if there was anyone in the cabin surely I would have heard them moving around on the wooden floor of the cabin, it was uneasy silence, not even birds appeared willing to sing today, “Stani alli Putsam” I called out (something like that, it meant stop or I’ll fire in Bosnian), nothing came back in any form of reply.  I took off my Beret and wiped the sweat from my head and I started to look around and take in the sights in front of me, I looked at the hay stack, “what is that?”


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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 3


Why?


I attempted to adjust my focus not wanting to accept what my eyes were telling me, surely the sight I had was wrong (I so hoped it was). Intrigue and the want to know more got the better of me and I started to slowly walk over to the hay stack.  My eyes had not lied to me, in fact, they had never stated further from the truth, they had shown me a pair of hands that had been tied together by barbed wire in what to me, was the front of the hay stack, about half way up the six foot high stack. The arms could be seen encircling the hay stack as if cuddling the stack but also pulling in the hay at the same time.  As I approached the stack more, I observed the wrists where the bands had been made, were cut and dried blood covered the wire and wrists, the wire had cut deep, clearly through struggling to escape the bounding and pending situation.  With caution, I followed the arms round to the back of the stack and at that point I wished I had been born to another mother and not here on this day.

 
A female’s body had been bent at the torso and it appeared that the head had been rammed or forced into the hay stack, the arms had then been pulled around the sides of the stack and tied at the front which would have kept the body in the position it had been designed to be in. It appeared from what I could see, the body was clothed in a grey dress; this had been lifted, bundled and was resting on the females back.  Her legs dangled freely and buckled to the floor, the shoes that had once been worn were some distance away and I assumed they had been kicked off in the early struggle.  (I need to tell the reader this part so you understand why these memories are kept so secret, I do apologise for being so graphic but it just shows what mankind will do in the name of religion and hatred). my head and eyes raced over the scene in front of me trying to take it all in, hence the disjointed explanantion to follow - Semen was from her buttocks to ankles, covering her legs and had clearly run down her legs, dried blood surrounded her backside and genitals it was all so very clear she had been raped and repeatedly so.  Where there wasn’t blood and semen, bruising - large areas of red and purple clear to see.  I looked around and noticed a knife at the base of the stack close to her feet.  The blade was no bigger than two inches with a crude wooden handle of around four inches, it was covered in blood and again I questioned for a moment what had happened.  I looked on the haystack and to the left and right sides of the hips and to the floor there were dry blood spatters, I moved the dress slightly and it was clear that whilst being raped this poor soul of a woman had been stabbed and repeatedly whilst being raped, so many puncture wounds, many criss crossed each other, a frenzy of a site, what a way to die!  It was at this point I realised that the contents of my stomach were at the back of my throat and no matter what I did, the contents were coming out and they did, quickly and violently.


My vomiting was obviously heard, by the serbian soldiers at least.  A roar of laughter followed and as I turned to view the source, I observed some of the Serbian soldiers had burst into laughter pointing at me, this had not gone unnoticed by my commander “Hey, you ok?” he called, after I regained composure “yep, yep, all good” I shouted down.  You see I am not really a coward, but why bring someone else into the scenario?  Two or three of the Serbian soldiers were clearly enjoying my discomfort as they were bent over laughing, so I thought again “who is this God bloke, he, who allows these men to cause death and misery in this most disgusting way, I want to talk to him and now!” alongside those who were laughing were many who now realised that they had been a part of a situation that they may well have to answer for, a little fear even in their faces, quickly not wantng to achieve eye contact, I very much hope that even today they struggle to sleep and wrestle with their thoughts, even haunted by those who they murdered in this way, cowards!

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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 3


Why?


For some, the next part is a little difficult to believe however, I needed to act. I thought about the pending task and after a short moment of realisation of what needed doing, I went back to the front of the stack, to the hands and unwrapped the wire until the hands fell away freely, I returned to the rear, lowered the dress and prepared to pull the females body backwards to release her from the hay stack. 
With a gentle pull the female’s body slowly fell rearwards and downwards, as she fell back I supported her weight as best as I could and as gently as I could, lowered her body laying her on her back.  Her facial expression was that of a horror movie, one of shock, horror and pain, her eyes still wide open, with a story in them that only she knew about and would not be able to share, her mouth wide open and half full of hay, unsure why or how, maybe it was a way of stopping her screaming, maybe the soldiers had force fed her or maybe she had done so to focus away from the pain, I will never know. 

Dropping my day sacks to the floor I bent down and looked into the females eyes, with a tear in my eye I said “Sorry we were so late, please forgive me” reaching into my day sack, I retrieved a body bag.  I carefully placed the woman’s body in the bag and I left her there, by the stack.
Regaining composure, I stood up, wiped my face, took a few deep breaths, grabbed my day sack and placed it back on and made my way to the rear of cabin.  As I turned to the rear I observed a large burn/rubbish pit about 15 foot deep, 3 foot wide, it was half full of general waste and human excrement and covered with excited and lively flies, which I had yet to be attacked by.  Clearly the waste was much tastier, the smell was incredible, this though only came after I realised that it was there.  I thought for a moment, maybe the body should be placed here, time permitting I would move her into there and let others know my movements later.  I continued along the back around the side and walked along the front of the cabin to the front door, the reality is I knew that there would be more to see today but I had been told to go and find out what was in here and so I reached forward for the cabin door handle, turned it to the left and eased the door open at the same time, taking my first steps into the cabin.


It is very difficult to explain the smell I experienced immediately; it was full on, as if someone had placed the foul smell in a bag on then forced it over my head, tying it around my neck and so no escaping it, overpowering!  It was similar to that of a butchers shop, all be it one that had no refrigeration and the meat on sale had been left out for a few days in the heat! It burnt my nose and I could taste it in my mouth and throat, which in turn made my eyes water, which I hasten to add where now taking in the horrendous sight I was now subjected to.


I can only describe what I had in front of me in simple speak, it would be a damn sight easier to explain face to face but here we are and so I will try my best to do so by word.  The inside of the cabin resembled a children’s red paint fight but on this occasion the paint was blood.  It was spattered/sprayed and evident all over.Pools of blood lay on the floor, running trails on the windows, looking similar in effect to falling rain. The remains of a body lay in the left corner of the building, a body that had been treated, tortured and murdered in the most dispicable of methods. The body was that of a man, who had clearly lost most of his 8 pints of blood by the way he had been abused. Hardly a part of wall or part of floor had been pardoned from the bodily fluid and even the ceiling had remnants of blood work on it.  The man had been killed in what I can only describe, assume as what I perceived as the slowest and what must have been the most painful experience, conducted by a truly sadistic killer or group of killers, the pain must have been, I dont have words!


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 Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 3


Why?


The body around 6ft (never been any good at this height judgement game) lay contorted on the floor of the cabin, I need to start somewhere so here goes, I am going to attempt to explain the system of murder (in my opinion), as it appeared the killer/s had wanted this poor man to suffer the most gruesome of pain and death, my only hope is he passed out with shock long before the majority of the actions were conducted. 


His abdoman had been cut open, wide and not clinically so, the internal organs had been dragged/pulled out, including the metres of intestines and they lay strewn across the floor in disarray. Both feet had been crudely amputated and they where resting toes up at the 10 and 2 o’clock position within the newly opened abdoman space.The hands also amputated, cleanly (surgically) it looked like (hence why I think there may have been more than one killer, surely he would have needed to be held down?), rested palms down at 4 and 8 o’clock position again in the abdoman space. It looked like the artist/s had taken time in positioning the four pieces of meat, his penis and sacks had been cut away and placed in the mans mouth.  All of this was then finalised by the head being cut off and placed meticulously in the centre of the limbs. His head had not escaped hideous treatment, his eye lids had been cut off, in a way that I can only assume that this was the killer’s twisted attempt to have the man view the events as they unfolded, his eyes had rolled upwards somewhat but were un level in their final resting position.  The whole picture was designed to look like a person attempting to climb out of another human’s torso, purely vile, anger now set in, why?


I must have stood there for at least 5 minutes, struggling to understand what and why had this happened, how on this fucking planet had so much hatred been allowed to grow and fester which led to this type of in human torture and murder.  Having witnessed the expression of humour from the Serbian soldiers below previously, I had no intention of going outside the cabin until I could force a smile and persona that would be viewed as if I had not been bothered by their efforts.

 

I again dropped my day sack and retrieved another body bag and placed the parts in order (head to toe) in the bag, I placed a first field dressing over his eyes and wrapped it tight around his head, I felt I owed his eyes that much.  I considered speaking to him but realised that it would have been wasted words, here was a couple who had died knowing each other was dying, going to die away from each other and great pain, I cannot imagine their thoughts and feelings of helplessness, makes me feel ill and powerless even today.
I DO NOT believe in God but felt the need to say a few words, as a knelt down next to his corpse, closing my eyes and interlocking my fingers in preparation, I considered what to say but said nothing more than Amen, I just couldn’t find the words, I am sorry.
I turned to return to the ouside and other body, my intention was to place both bodies in the pit and let my commander know when we returned to camp, I would just say I found a few dead people and that would be that, no need to tell anyone else or disclose the events.

 

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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 3


Why?


Without realising I had left the door open as I had walked in and just as I was going to walk out, I noticed an out of place loan pool of blood at the entrance, what would have been at the foot of the closed door, I hadn’t noticed this on entry as the man’s body and its effect had focused me away from anything else. The pool of blood was unique it had clearly not been as a result of the man and his injuries, so what and where had it derived from?  Was there something behind the door, a dog or pet I wondered?  I grabbed the handle and started to close it leaving me inside, thus viewing the back of the door.


Pause for thought - You may say that no one human being can stay quiet about the sights and sounds they witness, you are wrong, very wrong.  I have like so many, a secure box in my head and believe/d whole heartedly that mental pictures that disturb and upset you, should not be shared, why would you wish that pain to be shared? You will make up your own mind and I will leave you to do so, I could have and possiby should have, called for help, those who know me well, will make their own mind up.  My good lady has asked why and how did I did this alone? remember, I wasn't alone, there were six crewman here, two of which were guarding/securing the vehicles, both commanders were achieving intelligence gathering and alike, with the other observing the Serbian soldiers.


As the door closed, I was confronted by the most horrific sight that I have ever had to bear witness to in all of my Army days and indeed life to date, I hope that I never see anything like it again either.  At my head height I was confronted by the eyes of a baby girl, I want to say her age was around 3-6 months old but I don’t honestly know. The girl was completely naked and very much dead, her arms had been stretched outwards and nails had been driven into her wrists, in a best described as crucifixion stance. Thick Nails had also been driven into her feet and one through the centre her Neck, this one was thicker than the others.  Other small vertical slits had been made on the radial arteries of the young girl. And so without sounding short, the family complete, two adults and such a young life had been taken and so coldly.Go on then you explain it to me, how does this mindset arrive in the brain which makes it’s a good idea to brutally murder a family in such a manner?


My mind was now racing in pain and out of control, who died first? Did the adults in this family have to endure the vision of the daughter being murdered first and then they were separated and killed in the manner in which they had been found? I still find this vision unacceptable and unable to place in any sort of sense, hence why I have written about it, hoping that it will help me to do so.
At this point I broke into tears and at the same time I vomited, bile but vomited.  After a short while I again realised, I had to remove this body from the door but also realised that it would not be an easy task.  The nails would have to come out and no doubt bones would be broken whilst doing so, I thought even though the babies lifeless body was dead, I may cause further pain. Needless to say, as I suggested, it was a monumental task, I cannot describe how removing the nails and body from the door felt so very hard both emotionally and mentally, without reservation the most demanding task I have ever undertaken and not one I will ever do again, it, is too upsetting to go into detail!


I went outside, almost immediately I heard “Ian! 10 minutes and we are leaving, you ok?”, I considered my reply, I was out of sight to the caller (my commander) and so walked to gain eye site “Yeah all good, just helping the family up here, I’ll be a few minutes” and with a raise of my thumb, my commander acknowledged, looked away and continued to talk to another Soldier.  I paused and looked across at the Serbian Soldiers, who were now boarding buses in preparation to depart “you fucking Bastards” I thought “How fucking dare you!” not one of them was looking up in my direction, they were now very quiet, too quiet, maybe fear of being caught and punished was now at the fore front of their minds, “no more laughter you wankers” I thought and then I saw her.  a lone female Serbian soldier in amongst the males, how had she had allowed/afforded this behaviour, what part did she play? disgusted and thinking too much, I went and retrieved the female body.

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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 4


My parting gift?


The females body was heavier than I anticipated, I baby carried her into the cabin kicking the door shut as I entered.  Taking care, I laid her next to what I assumed was her husband up close, bag to bag and to complete the family I lay the baby girl in the middle at shoulder height, they were together as one again, the baby regrettably not in a bag.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Bosnia – My Picture Chapter 4


Reflection and a few answers?


No prayers, no turning back, I opened the door and closed it behind me. I looked at the Serbian Soldiers with disappointment and shook my head in disbelief and then walked down to rejoin my comrades, “alright buddy?” my commander asks “yeah, you?” not looking him in the eye, I replied.  I returned my day sacks back into the stowage bin of my vehicle and locked the bin.  “Blood?” a question was posed, without a thought, well a conscious one anyway “yeah, dead dog in the cabin”.  “Right well, let’s go, need to get back for dinner”. 


The journey back took what seemed forever, a damn sight longer than the drive there that’s for sure. I was tired and I stayed down sat in the turret attempting to come to terms with what I had seen on this god awful day.  Periodically I felt tears fall as a went into deep thought imaging the pain and suffering the three victims had endured and I would fall asleep also, thankfully awoken by the vehicles harsh reaction to holes in the paths, suspension being an after thought on this great vehicle.


Why leave the bodies? - Once I returned to camp I notified an operator in the Operations room that as well as other locations of bodies we had noted, a further 3 bodies would be found at the location we had visited.  I (as far as I can remember we were not remitted/required to bury people, just send locations of bodies, time was never on our side to conduct such tasks) asked that I could be notified of any follow up action. Some days later I was informed that the bodies had been recovered and that they were a family that had been forcibly used as domestic slaves by the Serbian Army located there.  They had been killed more than likely as they had no further need for them, what a vile and disgusting mindset I thought.


I remember another sickening story I was told whilst in Bosnia, one where a man was a Serbian Commanders personal Baker, his soul job in life was to bake fresh bed at the foot of a hill in his bakery and then with a cart travel around 500 meters up a hill to deliver the fresh bread to the said commanders house.  Winter had now set in and on one of the cold mornings the man arrived at the commanders house with now cold bread.On handing the bread over and without hesitation the Commander drew his pistol and shot him at point blank range in the head, in front of the mans wife, who was his house slave.

Reflection - I stand by my actions and thought process, the scene was mine and not one that needed to be shared openly with the other British Soldiers around me, after all on this day my comrades were young themselves and they had young families and who knows that even with the up most of a professional attitude, what would have happened if I had dragged others in to the scene.  If I am wrong then please feel free to tell me, I would still do the same today.

Please leave any feedback (positive or Negative) I take nothing personnally, life is far too short.

thank you


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