In my first land trip to Sarajevo (early August 1995), I was travelling in a UN vehicle with a Brazilian UNMO comrade. We’d been driving during the night, which was not advisable to do during the Bosnian War; hence we decided to stop and spend the night at the UNPROFOR Malayan Battalion (MALBAT) in Konjic. After making the necessary check-in procedures, we were shown where we would sleep for that night. The “officer’s in transit” accommodation was a large tent, installed inside an industrial semi-destroyed hangar, packed with dozens of other tents.
Due to the advanced night hour, most of the MALBAT soldiers had gone to sleep. Therefore, the interior of the hangar had no illumination and darkness prevailed inside the tents. Silence was of essence not to disturb our hosts. We fumbled around inside the tent, and discovered two empty field beds. Acting very carefully, we silently took off our flak jackets, put off our boots and untied the belts, loops and clasps of our campaign uniforms. We were going to have less than four hours of rest; therefore, there was no need to undress, I didn’t even take off my socks. The sleeping bag was basically used as a blanket, although those summer nights didn’t require much of a cover.
I set my wristwatch’s alarm to 04H45, put my helmet and flak jacket at hands reach, and tried to have some sleep. We could still hear in a distance the rhythmic firing of the machine guns, remembering us that we were not on a camping place somewhere in Western Europe.
It had been a long day but, regardless the trip tiredness, those firearms burst and the hot summer night prevented me to easily fall asleep and, when I managed to fell asleep, my mind was focused on the possibility of an attack to MALBAT.
In what seemed to be minutes, after I started my napping, all the loudspeakers of the hangar’s sound system went on, with a shrill call in Malay language. I woke up, in a shock, gasping profoundly in scare. It was about 04H30 in the morning, because my wristwatch hadn’t activated the wake-up alarm yet.
I couldn’t understand what the alarming loudspeakers were saying; but it was for sure an attack warning … what else could it be at 04H30 in the morning?
I reacted with instinct, jumped out of the field bed, grabbed my helmet, flat jacket and boots, and ran to my Brazilian comrade’s bed screaming:
– “AN ATTACK! IT’S AN ATTACK; GET THE F∩₪Q OUT OF THAT SLEEPING BAG, AND RUN FOR THE SHELTERS.”
The Brazilian Captain was an UNPROFOR veteran and he didn’t seem too concerned. I ran out of the tent, through the hangar’s doors and into the outside open space heading for the bunkers. Outside the hangar the first lights of dawn were announcing a hot clear summer day. I was trying to reach the coverage of shelters; barefoot, with my helmet on, my boots on one hand and the bullet proof vest on the other hand.
The loudspeakers wouldn’t stop stressing the Malay rambling, while I was looking around for my Brazilian comrade, swearing in Portuguese.
Gradually, I noticed that I was the only one acting desperate. Everybody else was quietly starting their daily routine, looking at me in a perplexed way.
The Brazilian got out of the hanger, wearing his helmet, his flak jacket and his boots, and asked:
– “Dude … don’t you recognize the Islamic call for pray?”
– “What? This is a call for pray? At 04H30 in the bloody morning?” – I asked rhetorically, in a mix of irritation and embarrassment.
I dropped the flak jacket and the boots, set on the ground, and smiled to the passing soldiers … apologizing for the ridiculousness of my little show. Some Lessons; you have to learn the hard way!
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