The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.comwebbing seats which stretched down the sides of the aircraft. Acheerful National Guard loadie handed us flight rations, a small, whitecardboard box filled with crisps, an apple and a cheese sandwich.`Here, have some gum, it'll save your ears popping,' the grinningloadie shouted against the throbbing roar of the turboprop engines ashe thrust a small box at us. I reached in and put the yellow tabs wherethey were supposed to be, in my ears. The loadie smiled ruefully,perhaps hoping he'd be able to catch out his next civilian passenger.Ten bumpy minutes into the hour-long flight, the dark hold was suddenlyilluminated with a blinding flash that raced the length of the fuselageand a whip-like crack audible even above the engine roar. `Fuck, we'vebeen hit!' shouted Roberts. The Hercules lurched into a steep nosedive,forcing me to grip the webbing seating to stop myself falling intoRoberts's lap and making my ears pop ferociously. The dive lasted a fewheart-pumping seconds before the pilot pulled some g's to level out.`What was that?' shouted Roberts to the loadie when we were straightand level. `Was that a sniper bullet?' A few C-130s had taken snipershots, but normally only on the approach to Sarajevo airport. We were along way from the risky zone and so it was unlikely.`I'll go find out,' shouted back the loadie, unstrapping himself tomake his way forward to the cockpit. He returned a minute later.`Lightning strike,' he announced. `Pilot says it hit the tail, camedown the fuselage, and punched a fist-sized hole out the nose, smashingup some avionics. We've got to divert to Frankfurt.' Roberts and Ilooked at each other in resignation. It would take another day out ofour already tight schedule.The USAF put us up in their comfortable officer's quarters in theirsprawling Ramstein base and we took the first available flight toSarajevo the next morning. This time we got within ten minutes ofSarajevo and the C-130 had just started its anti-sniper dive towardsthe runway when the flight was again aborted. A burst of Serbianartillery on the runway shut the airport and we had to retreat again,this time to Zagreb in Croatia.We finally made it into Sarajevo the next day on board a RussianIlyushin 72, their pilots taking a more robust view of bombs andbullets than the Americans, and touched down on the heavily guardedSarajevo runway on a fine autumnal day. We were met on the apron by theaffable commander of the four-man British detachment in Sarajevo, MajorKen Lindsay, with his armoured Land Rover. `You've picked a fine dayfor a visit,' he greeted us. `The sun's shining, we're flush withFosters and the Serbs have only lobbed five shells at us today.'Originally a truckie in the Australian army, he married the daughter ofa senior British cavalry officer, who arranged for his new son-in-lawto transfer to the smart King's Royal Hussars cavalry regiment.Lindsay's official job was to ensure that the UNHCR relief deliverieswere fairly shared amongst the various distribution stations inSarajevo. But unofficially he and his team provided transport andlodging for us while in town. `Chuck your kit in the back of the wagon.We'll go for a tour of Sarajevo, then have a few tinnies in the PTTbuilding,' Lindsay ordered cheerfully.As we drove through the Serb-Muslim front lines into town, past theburnt-out shell of an old T-55 tank, Lindsay pointed out the Sarajevopage- 113 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com