The Escape and Coming Home

The Totally Unofficial, Absolutely Personal Album of David Rosenthal's Photos and Comments about
The 126th Med Co

Assembled, written, and photographed by David A. Rosenthal

On 13 August 1998, the 126th Med Co got activated to be sent to Bosnia. When all was said and done, we walked as once-again-free, ticket-punched-for-the-moment, now-out-of-it, citizen soldiers into the waiting arms of our anxious loved ones on the afternoon of 31 March 1999. Between those dates unfolded a saga of adventure and mis-adventure none of us will ever forget.

But given the open-ended and ever-expanding nature of U. S. involvement in the Balkans, the possibility exists for us to be drawn back into the region. Also, all MEDEVAC units in both the National Guard and active Army can very likely look forward to direct participation sooner or later. For this reason I will continue updating this page to retell our story as well as attempt to provide those headed to Bosnia--and/or Kosovo--with an idea of what they can expect. Given the fact that our replacement unit now reports many of the identical problems, situations, and experiences we had, chances are things there won't change too quickly.

Late March 1999: The Escape and Coming Home

It began innocently enough--getting short and watching the "freedom birds" sailing into Tuzla Air Base. The plan was to fly us directly from Bosnia back to Ft. Benning, GA. But it wasn't to be. As soon as the bombs and missiles began flying in late March of 1999, all that shut off. "Too dangerous to fly," they told us.
Despite the huge flow of incoming units replacing those headed home, nothing moved anywhere with no one quite sure how we'd get out now. The only certainty was that it was logistically very unhandy to plug up the personnel pipeline.

SOMEhow making sense to SOMEone SOMEwhere was the notion of having us load our bags onto a truck and taking the bus.
Which is what they had us do...

Once we drove past the battle tanks, artillery, and heavy machine guns guarding Eagle Base's gate on this, the first full day of the new war, we were now protected by the bus' safety glass.

The first part of our 10-hour ride from Tuzla would take us through Serb-dominated territory to the Croatian border. It was a tense experience, to say the least.

From there, we'd continue to Taszar, the ex-MIG base in Hungary which would now serve as our departure point.
But we saw that the shock of the renewed hostilites had kept people indoors. Even the "ZOS market" through which we passed (a kind of flea-market sanctioned by NATO forces in the Zone Of Separation between the formerly warring factions to stimulate inter-ethnic commerce) was nearly deserted.

After three very long hours we crossed the bridge over the Sava river...

...and the Croatian border.

Once in Croatia--a far more stable region--we were, for all intents and purposes, "out." And out is good. Very very good. People began to loosen up and, for the first time in months for many, began to allow themselves to get excited about actually going home.
	Reaching Taszar, we started to see the signs of spring and the beauty of nature reborn.

In the trees right behind our temporary holding tents, roosted more than 300 European ravens. With newborn peeps in every nest, they squawked constantly. For me, as a desert dweller and a serious lover of ravens, this was music. But to everyone else, it seemed to be noise.

Nevertheless, the parent birds put on a spectacular show at sunset, flying in formations of ever-changing shape in the fading light, taking a last break from their chicks before turning in for the night.

And also at Taszar, things began lightening up with our own people attempting a little humor, such as this joke sign on the bathroom door teasing our Counseling Statement-fixated XO. But some senses of humor are far more sophisticated. A Major there demanded that the perpetrator(s) of this heinous crime be ferreted out and an example be made. "I want them dead!" he was reported to have decreed.

Aah, the rewards of having a professional military...

We simple folk still laughed.

But what we did best at Taszar was wait--wait to be out-processed, wait for the flight, and wait some more. Nevertheless, we got used to it quickly and kind of liked it.

Finally, came the very moment we'd been awaiting for seven long months: boarding our flight back to the U.S.!!

We spent more than 16 hours sitting on that Tower Air 747, flying first to Paris for refueling, then finally to our first touchdown on U. S. soil at Pope AFB, North Carolina, where we waited a little more...

Then, in the predawn hours, we took off again for the 1-hour hop to Ft. Benning, Georgia.

Both coming and going to Bosnia, you pass through the Conus Replacement Center (CRC) at Ft. Benning. Here in this sort of dismal compound at the base's edge, you in- or out-process a little more, depending on which way you're going. It takes about a week going and only about three days returning.

For us, it was physical exams and paperwork to be discharged from the active Army and back into the National Guard.

Finally, finally, finally the big day came: we'd load up one last time for the trip to California and our families who had waited every bit as anxiously as we had for all these months. Southwest Airlines sent a very special 737 for us...

...painted in the style of the California state flag. This was a very nice touch and I don't think I'll ever forget how moving it was for me.
A little more than four hours later, we were there!

On the perfect afternoon of March 31, 1999, more than seven and a half months after it began, our expedition to Bosnia had ended. We marched in for the, to us, perfunctory speeches and photos. But it was our families we'd waited so desperately to see. Though festivities had been planned, people quickly vacated our armory, leaving it quiet--as if none of this had ever happened.

Now we're left with our memories and the souvenirs and the experiences that few can claim. Was it "worth it?" That's surely a question for each of us to examine. But it was a duty we all agreed to face. And we did, each and every one of us.
My own feeling is that we came away better--"grown up" just a little more, more deeply feeling and caring about one another than we ever could have otherwise. And all of us who went will forever hold a very special place in our hearts for one another. This is, without any doubt, one of life's most precious treasures.

My own special treasure was being reunited with my wife and being able to see Cassie, our fourteen-year-old baby, whom I'd hoped would still be there to welcome me when it was all over.
She's also the queen of the boarding kennel where she'd stayed when my wife traveled to Sacramento to meet me. She had no objections to being lifted into the car for her own trip home.

That's it for this update. I'm hoping you've found the account of our escape from Bosnia entertaining and useful.

I also continue to be extremely grateful for the thoughtful feedback so many have given me over these long months. Please continue because it's a primary driver of what I present here. As those who've written know, I enjoy hearing from you and will surely respond.

And keep checking in. I'll continue presenting the page as I retell the story of our deployment in installments like I've done with it over the past months. I'll include greater detail and more photos for units who might find themselves on their way to Bosnia and want to get an idea of what to expect. And, of course, information for people simply interested in what it's really like. If you download these pages as they appear, you can collect a story from beginning-to-end.

Also, I'd like to thank SPC Bob Wright for loaning me three of the photos he shot while we were on our bus trip from Tuzla to Taszar.

Thanks again and take care! If you'd like to drop a line, the address is: n6tst@ridgenet.net.

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