Projekt
Registered
Back in 2005, I sold a house in Virginia and pocketed $194K in clean, non-taxable, profit. Living in Sarajevo, Bosnia at the time and working as a civilian contractor supporting US Army communications, I had always analyzed economic opportunity there and after walking the town with some Italian Carabinieri Troopers, discovered that a market for Motorcycle rentals and tourism existed in the former Yugoslavia.
So, with my newfound and well earned wealth, I took a jaunt to Milan, Italy to the Pogliani powersports superstore and quickly bought several used sportbikes to include a 2004 Honda CBR600rr, 2001 GSXR1000, 1999 GSX-F Katana 750 and one smaller Aprilia RS125 for training novice riders.
The bikes were released on an export bill of lading and I headed to Bosnia after having enjoyed a long weekend touring Northern Italy from Milan to Bologna, stopping at Maranello at the Ferrari Gallery and watching some action at the Fiorano private racetrack there. Later in the weekend I went to the Dolomites and enjoyed a ride around Lake Como stopping for Espresso and light conversation with other tourists and locals.
Once in Sarajevo I returned to work and was quickly approached by a trio of Civilian Clothes wearing Army personnel asking about the motorcycles and saying that they wanted to take a ride and get refreshed on their riding skills.
Early on the following Saturday, I picked up a few helmets and prepped the bikes. Three guys showed up and I only took out the GIXXER and CBR because minor repairs were being undertaken on the other two. My personal 2004 Hayabusa was my ride for the day and we headed out on a back road into town due to the main road being backed up with traffic seeing as it was the first really nice day of the warm season.
I lived a suburb of Sarajevo known as Ilidza which is derived from the Roman provincial name Illyria which was established at the sulfur springs two hundred paces from my dwelling.
The route was one I knew of and I had to improvise in order to steer us toward central Sarajevo, destination the Olympic Stadium parking lot where we intended to practice maneuvers.
On approach to the main North-South highway at the city's western perimeter, we passed a large residential apartment block and suddenly something with the intensity of on M80 detonated directly in front of me. I skidded and slipped to a stop with grit and gravel underfoot from the winter traction aggregate not having been cleaned off the roads yet.
Three individuals were sitting at the ground floor café laughing and joking. I assumed that they were the culprits and approached them speaking my relatively weak (at that time) Bosnian. There was a dark complexion individual, a white complexion individual with dark brown/black hair and a blondish brunette Croat looking guy sitting there.
I simply stated: "Hey, that is not cool. You could endanger us and cause an accident, there is grit on the road and I skidded when trying to stop. Someone could get hurt."
My point was simply to get these clowns to recognize the unsafe condition that they created or fostered.
They became dismissive and I lost my ability to understand them saying so in English.
Their response was "**** you American, Go home before we **** your mother's *****, you ****en *****." I just shook my head and donned my gear comprised of a helmet, gloves and ICON Skull jacket popular at the time (Summer Season 2005).
As I started my Busa, their insults grew louder and they rejoiced in their dismissal of this proud American former Airman.
That is when my blood boiled and I switched off the bike. Standing up on the street, I said, "Ako hoces problema i mislis da ti su mangupe, hajde ovdje da vidim to." (If you want trouble, and think you are hard men, come over here so I can see that.)
The guys came at me three abreast and quickly escalated the bravado until one distracted me, and the guy on my far left smashed my helmet's brow with a large brick or rock. The impact was so strong that it split my brow.
I stepped back and through the ever-loving shot-put punch of my life and smashed the guy in the middle's face. It felt so good, that as I drew it back, I literally said, damn, that was a good punch. It felt like it penetrated into a soft mass when I came at him with a high, power-punch just like a full strength shot put throw that I used to do in High School track and field at SJHA.
The two other's mobbed me and worked on my head and torso with whatever they could find. I kept thinking "man, don't you know that you chop a man down at the legs? Go for the knees". But, why give them that advantage?
The guy I punched got handed a glass bottle and went to work in his stunned state trying to break it, so I went on counter-attack and into a rugby like scrum (which I also played in Texas and England while in the USAF) to fight it out of his hand like a Rugby ball. At that point he took hold of me in a chokehold and I saw black for an instant until doing self spotting diaphragm surges from my bodybuilding days.
At that time, I was on a Paleo/Atkins diet and fit at 6'4" 240lbs at near peak fitness with close to a two pack showing.
The surges worked to restore me full consciousness and wriggled like a pitbull to get free enough of the hold only to think about my next move while getting pummeled by one or two of the others. My riding buddies were also in the melee by then and one of them told me about waking up on the floor not knowing what happened. He as later diagnosed with a concussion.
I chose not to sweep the leg for a take down because I would get my ribs kicked into my lungs so I forked my left hand's fingers and placed my palm at the guy's chin to find his eyes by catching his nose in the V of my left ring and middle finger but I couldn't feel it so I overshot to his forehead. Then, tracing back, I found his eye sockets and gently increased pressure until he rotated back and I reversed the choke so that his throat was being crushed my left anterior deltoid.
A few shoves and punches later, we found ourselves against a VW Golf and I held tight while this guy squirmed and then stopped but I couldn't tell that he lost consciousness because I was being rocked my chairs and endless other items. I simply held tight in protective mode and lost all senses except for detecting the impacts to my mid-spine, cervical spine and head.
That ICON Skull jacket with shoulder, elbow and back high density foam armor pads saved me from becoming a paraplegic. It really advertises its protective qualities with the skull.
It seemed like an eternity passed before a firm hand gripped my collar like I was being pulled to safety and a very clear and loud seemingly programmed "Let's go, Let's go, Fall back!" compelled me to release the guy only to see him melt off the car just in time for me to avoid being smashed by a bat-like four by four piece of lumber with screws and nails at the end.
The damage was done and I surveyed the scene to find no end of detritus like broken glass, ashtrays, chairs and scrap lumber littering the site.
My bikes except for the Busa had been tipped over and the helmet that my Black brother wore had the shield broken due to using it as a sledgehammer against the guys. Blood was on my helmet and on the shoulder of my jacket.
Taking a retreating defensive posture, all I wanted was to make sure my cellphone was still in my pocket as I had just picked up the first black Motorola Razr in the country and didn't want to lose it.
The guy I put down, was coming to and slowly crawling toward me with menace in his still dull eyes. Suddenly, he came alive and went to come at me faster with his **** talking dark skinned buddy at his side.
My step was to advance on them before they regained the upper hand so I raised my fist high and took four steps toward them to finish him off only to be waved off by the Gypsy guy saying "Enough, enough, no more, he's hurt, please, no more"...
I retreated and grabbed my phone to call the command center to report the incident.
Me: "I've been attacked, I am with three members and we need a response team to come talk to us and the cops."
A SWAT platoon showed up from Sarajevo Police and about seven other uniforms showed up but before they fully deployed, the "guy with no face" took a field goal kick to my Busa's mirror and it went flying across the street.
I should have knocked his block off with that last punch, but have to think that I have only ever fought when attacked and he was neutralized. Had I punched him with a sprinting superman punch, it probably would have killed him.
In the melee, and shortly after, a bunch of gun toting BMW E30 drivers showed up but we had a backup. The platoon Sargent for the US Army members came to the scene uncannily quickly and showed some steel to back those dudes up and disperse the tough guys with their guns in the BMWs.
I was still raging and the group of aggressors had retreated into the café only to have one emerge and throw a fast pitch of a glass mineral water bottle into my right elbow, hitting my funny bone and hurting for two months.
That was it.
Reports were taken and we were escorted in a convoy on the bikes to the base about 5 kliks southwest where I clearly and concisely wrote a short narrative of what I did and what they did.
The guy I locked up with after punching was Albanian and I heard about that the next day at a restaurant with nobody else around. The guy telling me was a US Army counter-terrorism specialist and I really got the full debrief then.
We only met because I talked to a friend who claimed to be a retired cop, but in-fact was an Undercover intelligence Liaison to the US Forces, who was trying to groom me into accepting membership in the "Gremium" a Hells Angels supporter MC out of Zenica.
I asked him to find two or three guys that would accept 200$ to go break the Gypsy's jaw for having a big mouth. The result later that day was a serious sit down with a US Army intelligence officer and a very tactful explanation of the liabilities to me if I did not exit the country immediately on vacation.
When he called me to the restaurant (Mafia Owned), I nearly did an about face when I saw who was in his company. It was a guy I had seen before at a Motorijada (Moto Susret or "Motorcycle gathering") in Sokolac. That happened to be in a no go zone but I had been in the company of my well respected Bosnian friends. He showed up due to my giving a TV interview on the SERB national television channel about how much I loved Bosnia. Little did I know that this was extremely frowned upon.
Agent: "So, it was just a street fight?"
Me: "Yeah, pretty much. They told me **** you American, go home. And I
didn't think that was very nice so I called them out and you know the rest."
Agent: "The guy you popped in the face is in the hospital on life support."
Me: "Nah, he is just trying to get paid by the US Army"
Agent: "You busted his nose pretty bad and he is going to need reconstructive surgery for his detached maxilla"
Me: (Dismissively) "No way. I really have a hard time believing that"
Agent: (To undercover liaison) "You want to tell him?"
Liaison: "You smashed his face pretty good."
Me: "Well **** yes, (Fist Pump) he needed it.
Agent: (Chuckling) "Like that?"
Me: "**** yes, that dude let his buddies get him ****ed up for being a bigmouth and standing in the middle like the leader. **** him. Is he going to be alright? (suddenly taking it all in with all due seriousness looking at the possible fallout)"
Liaison: "Trust me, I walked the building and knocked on doors. They didn't even throw the M80. It was some kids that got so scared they were crying. You ****ed him up. Do you know the guy or where he is from?"
Agent: "Word is that he is going to need surgery but should be alright."
Me: "Brother, it was the first time I was ever in that area. Literally the first time. Never saw those jokers in my life. They mouthed off and all I wanted to do was tell them, it is dangerous for me and the crew or others if that kind of **** happens."
Agent: "You sure you never met them before? The guy in the Hospital is Albanian."
Me: "So the **** what, he had a big mouth and maybe he will learn from this."
Agent: (Smiling and looking on with Respect) This is the part that you listen closely. It is my job to tell you, so consider it your official debrief. If they see you on the street, they are going to shoot you in the head and get paid for doing so by the Kingpin which just happens to own that hotel down the street from here.
Me: (Puckering Anus) "No ****?"
Agent: "No **** and about as serious as it gets. A sanctioned hit on an American pays out Euros 30K. We have an agreement with the Boss. He promises not to **** with Americans if we promise not to **** with his business."
Liaison: "This isn't over, they have a bounty out for you. You see, even if the Boss doesn't sanction the hit, his underlings that want to earn street cred will go about doing it anyway to get the money. That unsanctioned hit pays Euro20K
Me: "Wow, all this for me? What about me, my job and liabilities"
Agent: (Dead Serious) "You're not prosecutable due to the S.O.F.A. You will be okay if you leave as soon as possible and lay low until then. So... Let me ask you this: Do you have any vacation? And, a plausible reason to leave immediately?
Agent Speaking to Liaison: "He is going to be okay right?"
Liaison: "Well, I am not sure, there could be trouble. You know, it's pretty serious etc."
Agent: "Miki, (Liaison's real name). You are going to make sure that he is going to be okay and that this is squashed. Right? RIGHT?"
Me: "I can leave as soon as they let me and tell them I have to pick up my, New to me, Honda NRX1800 Rune."
Agent: "Better yet, is anyone sick at home."
Me: "My dad is sick from Diabetes and Prostate issues."
Agent: "Let's wrap it up, take my number and call me when you get the flight out."
That was Sunday, I was on a flight out of Zagreb after riding through the rain from Sarajevo to Zagreb on Tuesday afternoon.
Finally, I learned about the concussion and status of the soldiers with me.
They were Special Operations Soldiers on a black op to confiscate weapons caches. Their mission, identities and vehicles had been compromised in the international incident.
They were ordered not to communicate with me and to not rent any motorcycles in town.
The NATO Commander, General Ward, was pissed off to the point of yelling in the emergency staff meeting.
Years later, in 2011 at Camp Atterbury, Indiana's civilian overseas processing center, an older gentleman approached me and struck up a conversation.
Gent: "Hey, is this seat taken?"
Me: "No Sir, have at it."
Gent: "So, where you off to? Is this your first one or have you been doing this long"
Me: "Camp As Sayliyah, Qatar"
Gent: "Damn, you really scored, who do you know and how did you swing that?"
Me: "I've been doing this a few years, started out in Hungary and spent several years in Bosnia."
Gent: "No ****, me too. I was at Butmir at the USNIC. I'm so and so retired Marine, Intelligence Consultant and Advisor to the NATO Commander General Ward"
Me: (Looking for an Exit and thinking **** while turning to look at the floor) "yeah, I was at Butmir too at the Sprint compound across the street. From Feb/2004-June/05"
Gent: "You looked familiar. Did you know that guy with the bikes for rent"
Me: "I have a Busa but that doesn't sound familiar"
Gent: "You sure? He had some sport bikes for rent."
Me: "I heard about the guys with DirtBikes for rent out in Kresevo"
Gent: "You sure, he worked there and rented some bikes to some of our boys. They went out on their first ride and got into it with some local nationals, apparently because they had an M80 thrown at them. One of those guys ended up needing his face bolted back together."
Me: "Yeah, you know you're looking at him."
Gent: "I thought that was you." (shakes my hand with a mature man's strong grip and smiles)
Me: "Good to meet you Sir."
Gent: "Don't call me Sir, I am a retired Marine and worked for a living. I just have to say something to you."
Me: "What's that Marine?"
Gent: (In a solemn and quiet tone) "Thanks for what you did. You did us a solid."
Me: "WTF, tell me about that."
Gent: "Well, regardless of the circumstances, and this is how I explained it to General Ward once he stopped screaming about the blown Mission. The reasons for what happened were because you saw an unsafe situation unfold for some Soldiers and confronted the suspects. That is what won over the General, that you stood for the safety of the Soldiers. It was about protecting the force. You made us look good because, even as a non combatant, you had the virtue and diligence to stand up to some Albanian Mafia guy that said **** you American, go home and you PUT HIM IN THE HOSPITAL."
My skin was surging with goose bumps with the exhilaration. I felt so vindicated after so many years.
Little did I know that this would not buy me any Loyalty from the US Government when I went to Qatar... To be continued.
So, with my newfound and well earned wealth, I took a jaunt to Milan, Italy to the Pogliani powersports superstore and quickly bought several used sportbikes to include a 2004 Honda CBR600rr, 2001 GSXR1000, 1999 GSX-F Katana 750 and one smaller Aprilia RS125 for training novice riders.
The bikes were released on an export bill of lading and I headed to Bosnia after having enjoyed a long weekend touring Northern Italy from Milan to Bologna, stopping at Maranello at the Ferrari Gallery and watching some action at the Fiorano private racetrack there. Later in the weekend I went to the Dolomites and enjoyed a ride around Lake Como stopping for Espresso and light conversation with other tourists and locals.
Once in Sarajevo I returned to work and was quickly approached by a trio of Civilian Clothes wearing Army personnel asking about the motorcycles and saying that they wanted to take a ride and get refreshed on their riding skills.
Early on the following Saturday, I picked up a few helmets and prepped the bikes. Three guys showed up and I only took out the GIXXER and CBR because minor repairs were being undertaken on the other two. My personal 2004 Hayabusa was my ride for the day and we headed out on a back road into town due to the main road being backed up with traffic seeing as it was the first really nice day of the warm season.
I lived a suburb of Sarajevo known as Ilidza which is derived from the Roman provincial name Illyria which was established at the sulfur springs two hundred paces from my dwelling.
The route was one I knew of and I had to improvise in order to steer us toward central Sarajevo, destination the Olympic Stadium parking lot where we intended to practice maneuvers.
On approach to the main North-South highway at the city's western perimeter, we passed a large residential apartment block and suddenly something with the intensity of on M80 detonated directly in front of me. I skidded and slipped to a stop with grit and gravel underfoot from the winter traction aggregate not having been cleaned off the roads yet.
Three individuals were sitting at the ground floor café laughing and joking. I assumed that they were the culprits and approached them speaking my relatively weak (at that time) Bosnian. There was a dark complexion individual, a white complexion individual with dark brown/black hair and a blondish brunette Croat looking guy sitting there.
I simply stated: "Hey, that is not cool. You could endanger us and cause an accident, there is grit on the road and I skidded when trying to stop. Someone could get hurt."
My point was simply to get these clowns to recognize the unsafe condition that they created or fostered.
They became dismissive and I lost my ability to understand them saying so in English.
Their response was "**** you American, Go home before we **** your mother's *****, you ****en *****." I just shook my head and donned my gear comprised of a helmet, gloves and ICON Skull jacket popular at the time (Summer Season 2005).
As I started my Busa, their insults grew louder and they rejoiced in their dismissal of this proud American former Airman.
That is when my blood boiled and I switched off the bike. Standing up on the street, I said, "Ako hoces problema i mislis da ti su mangupe, hajde ovdje da vidim to." (If you want trouble, and think you are hard men, come over here so I can see that.)
The guys came at me three abreast and quickly escalated the bravado until one distracted me, and the guy on my far left smashed my helmet's brow with a large brick or rock. The impact was so strong that it split my brow.
I stepped back and through the ever-loving shot-put punch of my life and smashed the guy in the middle's face. It felt so good, that as I drew it back, I literally said, damn, that was a good punch. It felt like it penetrated into a soft mass when I came at him with a high, power-punch just like a full strength shot put throw that I used to do in High School track and field at SJHA.
The two other's mobbed me and worked on my head and torso with whatever they could find. I kept thinking "man, don't you know that you chop a man down at the legs? Go for the knees". But, why give them that advantage?
The guy I punched got handed a glass bottle and went to work in his stunned state trying to break it, so I went on counter-attack and into a rugby like scrum (which I also played in Texas and England while in the USAF) to fight it out of his hand like a Rugby ball. At that point he took hold of me in a chokehold and I saw black for an instant until doing self spotting diaphragm surges from my bodybuilding days.
At that time, I was on a Paleo/Atkins diet and fit at 6'4" 240lbs at near peak fitness with close to a two pack showing.
The surges worked to restore me full consciousness and wriggled like a pitbull to get free enough of the hold only to think about my next move while getting pummeled by one or two of the others. My riding buddies were also in the melee by then and one of them told me about waking up on the floor not knowing what happened. He as later diagnosed with a concussion.
I chose not to sweep the leg for a take down because I would get my ribs kicked into my lungs so I forked my left hand's fingers and placed my palm at the guy's chin to find his eyes by catching his nose in the V of my left ring and middle finger but I couldn't feel it so I overshot to his forehead. Then, tracing back, I found his eye sockets and gently increased pressure until he rotated back and I reversed the choke so that his throat was being crushed my left anterior deltoid.
A few shoves and punches later, we found ourselves against a VW Golf and I held tight while this guy squirmed and then stopped but I couldn't tell that he lost consciousness because I was being rocked my chairs and endless other items. I simply held tight in protective mode and lost all senses except for detecting the impacts to my mid-spine, cervical spine and head.
That ICON Skull jacket with shoulder, elbow and back high density foam armor pads saved me from becoming a paraplegic. It really advertises its protective qualities with the skull.
It seemed like an eternity passed before a firm hand gripped my collar like I was being pulled to safety and a very clear and loud seemingly programmed "Let's go, Let's go, Fall back!" compelled me to release the guy only to see him melt off the car just in time for me to avoid being smashed by a bat-like four by four piece of lumber with screws and nails at the end.
The damage was done and I surveyed the scene to find no end of detritus like broken glass, ashtrays, chairs and scrap lumber littering the site.
My bikes except for the Busa had been tipped over and the helmet that my Black brother wore had the shield broken due to using it as a sledgehammer against the guys. Blood was on my helmet and on the shoulder of my jacket.
Taking a retreating defensive posture, all I wanted was to make sure my cellphone was still in my pocket as I had just picked up the first black Motorola Razr in the country and didn't want to lose it.
The guy I put down, was coming to and slowly crawling toward me with menace in his still dull eyes. Suddenly, he came alive and went to come at me faster with his **** talking dark skinned buddy at his side.
My step was to advance on them before they regained the upper hand so I raised my fist high and took four steps toward them to finish him off only to be waved off by the Gypsy guy saying "Enough, enough, no more, he's hurt, please, no more"...
I retreated and grabbed my phone to call the command center to report the incident.
Me: "I've been attacked, I am with three members and we need a response team to come talk to us and the cops."
A SWAT platoon showed up from Sarajevo Police and about seven other uniforms showed up but before they fully deployed, the "guy with no face" took a field goal kick to my Busa's mirror and it went flying across the street.
I should have knocked his block off with that last punch, but have to think that I have only ever fought when attacked and he was neutralized. Had I punched him with a sprinting superman punch, it probably would have killed him.
In the melee, and shortly after, a bunch of gun toting BMW E30 drivers showed up but we had a backup. The platoon Sargent for the US Army members came to the scene uncannily quickly and showed some steel to back those dudes up and disperse the tough guys with their guns in the BMWs.
I was still raging and the group of aggressors had retreated into the café only to have one emerge and throw a fast pitch of a glass mineral water bottle into my right elbow, hitting my funny bone and hurting for two months.
That was it.
Reports were taken and we were escorted in a convoy on the bikes to the base about 5 kliks southwest where I clearly and concisely wrote a short narrative of what I did and what they did.
The guy I locked up with after punching was Albanian and I heard about that the next day at a restaurant with nobody else around. The guy telling me was a US Army counter-terrorism specialist and I really got the full debrief then.
We only met because I talked to a friend who claimed to be a retired cop, but in-fact was an Undercover intelligence Liaison to the US Forces, who was trying to groom me into accepting membership in the "Gremium" a Hells Angels supporter MC out of Zenica.
I asked him to find two or three guys that would accept 200$ to go break the Gypsy's jaw for having a big mouth. The result later that day was a serious sit down with a US Army intelligence officer and a very tactful explanation of the liabilities to me if I did not exit the country immediately on vacation.
When he called me to the restaurant (Mafia Owned), I nearly did an about face when I saw who was in his company. It was a guy I had seen before at a Motorijada (Moto Susret or "Motorcycle gathering") in Sokolac. That happened to be in a no go zone but I had been in the company of my well respected Bosnian friends. He showed up due to my giving a TV interview on the SERB national television channel about how much I loved Bosnia. Little did I know that this was extremely frowned upon.
Agent: "So, it was just a street fight?"
Me: "Yeah, pretty much. They told me **** you American, go home. And I
didn't think that was very nice so I called them out and you know the rest."
Agent: "The guy you popped in the face is in the hospital on life support."
Me: "Nah, he is just trying to get paid by the US Army"
Agent: "You busted his nose pretty bad and he is going to need reconstructive surgery for his detached maxilla"
Me: (Dismissively) "No way. I really have a hard time believing that"
Agent: (To undercover liaison) "You want to tell him?"
Liaison: "You smashed his face pretty good."
Me: "Well **** yes, (Fist Pump) he needed it.
Agent: (Chuckling) "Like that?"
Me: "**** yes, that dude let his buddies get him ****ed up for being a bigmouth and standing in the middle like the leader. **** him. Is he going to be alright? (suddenly taking it all in with all due seriousness looking at the possible fallout)"
Liaison: "Trust me, I walked the building and knocked on doors. They didn't even throw the M80. It was some kids that got so scared they were crying. You ****ed him up. Do you know the guy or where he is from?"
Agent: "Word is that he is going to need surgery but should be alright."
Me: "Brother, it was the first time I was ever in that area. Literally the first time. Never saw those jokers in my life. They mouthed off and all I wanted to do was tell them, it is dangerous for me and the crew or others if that kind of **** happens."
Agent: "You sure you never met them before? The guy in the Hospital is Albanian."
Me: "So the **** what, he had a big mouth and maybe he will learn from this."
Agent: (Smiling and looking on with Respect) This is the part that you listen closely. It is my job to tell you, so consider it your official debrief. If they see you on the street, they are going to shoot you in the head and get paid for doing so by the Kingpin which just happens to own that hotel down the street from here.
Me: (Puckering Anus) "No ****?"
Agent: "No **** and about as serious as it gets. A sanctioned hit on an American pays out Euros 30K. We have an agreement with the Boss. He promises not to **** with Americans if we promise not to **** with his business."
Liaison: "This isn't over, they have a bounty out for you. You see, even if the Boss doesn't sanction the hit, his underlings that want to earn street cred will go about doing it anyway to get the money. That unsanctioned hit pays Euro20K
Me: "Wow, all this for me? What about me, my job and liabilities"
Agent: (Dead Serious) "You're not prosecutable due to the S.O.F.A. You will be okay if you leave as soon as possible and lay low until then. So... Let me ask you this: Do you have any vacation? And, a plausible reason to leave immediately?
Agent Speaking to Liaison: "He is going to be okay right?"
Liaison: "Well, I am not sure, there could be trouble. You know, it's pretty serious etc."
Agent: "Miki, (Liaison's real name). You are going to make sure that he is going to be okay and that this is squashed. Right? RIGHT?"
Me: "I can leave as soon as they let me and tell them I have to pick up my, New to me, Honda NRX1800 Rune."
Agent: "Better yet, is anyone sick at home."
Me: "My dad is sick from Diabetes and Prostate issues."
Agent: "Let's wrap it up, take my number and call me when you get the flight out."
That was Sunday, I was on a flight out of Zagreb after riding through the rain from Sarajevo to Zagreb on Tuesday afternoon.
Finally, I learned about the concussion and status of the soldiers with me.
They were Special Operations Soldiers on a black op to confiscate weapons caches. Their mission, identities and vehicles had been compromised in the international incident.
They were ordered not to communicate with me and to not rent any motorcycles in town.
The NATO Commander, General Ward, was pissed off to the point of yelling in the emergency staff meeting.
Years later, in 2011 at Camp Atterbury, Indiana's civilian overseas processing center, an older gentleman approached me and struck up a conversation.
Gent: "Hey, is this seat taken?"
Me: "No Sir, have at it."
Gent: "So, where you off to? Is this your first one or have you been doing this long"
Me: "Camp As Sayliyah, Qatar"
Gent: "Damn, you really scored, who do you know and how did you swing that?"
Me: "I've been doing this a few years, started out in Hungary and spent several years in Bosnia."
Gent: "No ****, me too. I was at Butmir at the USNIC. I'm so and so retired Marine, Intelligence Consultant and Advisor to the NATO Commander General Ward"
Me: (Looking for an Exit and thinking **** while turning to look at the floor) "yeah, I was at Butmir too at the Sprint compound across the street. From Feb/2004-June/05"
Gent: "You looked familiar. Did you know that guy with the bikes for rent"
Me: "I have a Busa but that doesn't sound familiar"
Gent: "You sure? He had some sport bikes for rent."
Me: "I heard about the guys with DirtBikes for rent out in Kresevo"
Gent: "You sure, he worked there and rented some bikes to some of our boys. They went out on their first ride and got into it with some local nationals, apparently because they had an M80 thrown at them. One of those guys ended up needing his face bolted back together."
Me: "Yeah, you know you're looking at him."
Gent: "I thought that was you." (shakes my hand with a mature man's strong grip and smiles)
Me: "Good to meet you Sir."
Gent: "Don't call me Sir, I am a retired Marine and worked for a living. I just have to say something to you."
Me: "What's that Marine?"
Gent: (In a solemn and quiet tone) "Thanks for what you did. You did us a solid."
Me: "WTF, tell me about that."
Gent: "Well, regardless of the circumstances, and this is how I explained it to General Ward once he stopped screaming about the blown Mission. The reasons for what happened were because you saw an unsafe situation unfold for some Soldiers and confronted the suspects. That is what won over the General, that you stood for the safety of the Soldiers. It was about protecting the force. You made us look good because, even as a non combatant, you had the virtue and diligence to stand up to some Albanian Mafia guy that said **** you American, go home and you PUT HIM IN THE HOSPITAL."
My skin was surging with goose bumps with the exhilaration. I felt so vindicated after so many years.
Little did I know that this would not buy me any Loyalty from the US Government when I went to Qatar... To be continued.
