Deployment

12 December 92

The Americans landed in Mogadishu a few days ago and were mobbed by media instead of Somalis.  So far they have just secured the port and the airport.  Relief workers in Kismayu have been taken hostage by the Somalis and the remaining aid workers in the country have been advised to leave for Kenya. 

Boutros-Ghali wants a commitment from the US to keep the troops in Somali until the feuding clans are disarmed, the drug trade is surpressed and a police force is set up.  The Americans are not willing to commit to this indefinate timeline though, saying that they expect all operations to be completed in four to six months.

2 Commando, our advance party finally left this weekend after a delay because of a bad snowstorm and we will follow between the 27^th and the 1^st of January. We are going to a large airstrip about 100 km's west of Mogadishu. It is an old military airfield and is now the major airport used by the drug smugglers in the region to bring in quat. It is a key point right in the middle of the 'triangle.'

16 December 92

We received an extremely detailed Intelligence briefing this morning, more shots and our malaria pills. Now I am off for 10 days Christmas leave. I have to be back at 11:00 hrs on the 26^th and will be leaving Trenton for Djibouti at 06:00 the next day. From there we will fly directly to Bale Dogle.  Apparently much of our equipment on one of the supply ships was damaged or destroyed during a bad storm. A diesel tanker broke loose. To top that, our second ship hasn't been heard from for days. It looks like we will be living out of our rucks for awhile.

Meanwhile in Somalia, US and French troops are moving into Baidoa, one of the centers of fighting in Somalia. It is estimated that 10,000 people have died in Baidoa in the past few months.  The last aid convoy to Baidoa, on Nov 12 was ambushed just outside of Mogadishu.  As the coalition troops advance, the bandits are fleeing further inland which should make our job more difficult.  2 Commando has landed and secured Baledogle, a former Soviet airbase about halfway between Mogadishu and Baidoa.

21 December 92

US and Belgian troops moved into the Southern Port of Kismayu meeting little resistence.  Colonel Omar Jess of the Somali Patriotic Movement met the coalition commander and promised to co-operate.  Since no ship has been able to dock in Kismayu since October 3, the move into the port is vital in the supply effort.  Relief workers there have reported that about 100 people were killed in targeted clan executions which erupted after local militias clashed over whether to resist the coalition troops.

2 Commando has begun escorting aid to some of the outlying villages around Beladogle.  16 of them provided security for and aid convoy to the village of Wanlaweyn.  Also, an aid convoy from Mogadishu to Baidoa made it through yesterday.  This is the first convoy to make it through since last summer.

27 December 92

After 9 hours of delays we are finally away. We stop off in Gander to refuel then are off to Créte.  I have ten rounds of ancient 9 mm ammo in my pocket. They date back to World War Two, but they are all I have. The airforce refuses to let us bring ammunition on the plane, but I refuse to go into a hostile country unarmed, so I sneak these few rounds on board with me. The airforce has been at peace too long.  They would rather risk our lives by flying us into a war zone unarmed than allow live ammunition on the same plane that carries troops.  Their logic baffles me.  Before boarding the plane, I had to put my pistol through the x-ray machine at the airport and walk through the metal detector.  They are so used to following the book that they can no longer see the lunacy of their actions in situations like this.

We are heading for Mogadishu, the capital and the center of operations in Somalia.  Once there we will board C-130 Hercules and fly up to Beled Weyne and secure the airstrip there.  Beled Weyne is a large city of about 200,000 people northwest of Mogadishu near the Ethiopian border.

28 December 92

At about 08:00 local time we land in Créte. We stand on the runway in the rain as they refuel the plane and change the crew, but we are glad for the stretch after seven hours flying from Gander. All we can see of Créte are distant snow covered mountains through the rain. It is a cool 8^oC, but a nice change from the cold Canadian weather.

After an hour and a half we are back on the plane and heading towards Mogadishu. Strangely I am not nervous as I had expected to be, just anxious to see what it will be like.

Another seven hours and we are circling off the coast of Mogadishu. Below us is the American fleet sitting just off shore, countless ships out to the horizon. The city is huge, much larger than I thought it would be, spreading out as far as the eye can see. It is a short city. All the buildings are small, white, and about one or two floors high.

The airport is a hub of activity. Troops of all nationalities are camped along the edge of the airstrip. Vehicles and planes run everywhere. The hangers are crumbling shells with men hiding in the little shade they provide. Scattered everywhere are reminders of the war, bombed out buildings, old Somali jets, destroyed vehicles and the U.S.C. (United Somali Congress) graffiti on everything.

It is too late to head to Beled Weyne today so we pull into a modular tent in the Canadian lines and settle down for the night. The temperature is about 35^o to 40^oC when we land, but as the sun goes down so does the temperature. To pass the time we all take turns having our heads shaved by Pat.  With the rush of a few short days of Christmas with our families, most of us neglected to do this before we left.

I lay on the ground crowded by the others.  I cannot sleep.  Throughout the night my mind races with the anxiety of flying into Beled Weyne tomorrow.

Guarding the Airfield

29 December 92

All morning, we sat on the tarmac waiting for our ammo to be flown in from the HMCS Provider.  We watched as palettes of tables and benches for the REMF's were flown in first. As usual the priorities are all backwards. They supply the rear troops with their comforts before they supply the forward troops with the necessities.

When the ammo finally did arrive, there was none for my pistol or machine gun. So I must fly into Beled Weyne with nothing but the ten World War Two German Luger rounds that I smuggled over for my pistol. They are better than nothing, but are so old that I doubt they will even fire.

The flight to Beled Weyne was mercifully short, with all of us cramped into the back of the Herc in the heat.  When the ramp on the Herc lowered in Beled Weyne, the heat rolled in and engulfed us. It was nearly unbearable in our flak jackets and helmets, much hotter than Mogadishu. It suffocated us as we stepped off the plane. It is not what I expected, there are a few thorn bushes around the airstrip, but otherwise for as the eye can see it is just barren plains with some small hills in the distance.

We moved out to replace the Americans in the defensive perimeter around the airstrip. My position is guarding the trail into Beled Weyne. I bummed a belt of machine gun ammo off of an American soldier, making me feel a little safer. I hate having to rely on others, but at least I am armed now. The town appears to be nothing more than grass huts from here, but there are apparently nearly 200,000 people.

Thousands of men, women and children walk by my position throughout the day on their way to the airstrip to wait for the next relief flights to arrive. The kids all stop to watch whatever we do and beg for water. The heat is unbearable and I am dehydrating quickly, but it is so hard to drink or eat with them watching and begging. They go by with bottles of water of their own, it is brown and muddy.

30 December 92

Last night I bummed a magazine of ammo for my pistol from the American Special Forces sergeant who spent the night with us. I feel better now that I can defend myself.

Through the night gunshots ring out through the village and the sounds of children coughing in the nearby refugee huts kept me awake. I don't know if it is jet lag or guilt, but I have trouble sleeping and wake up tired. Digging into my kit bag this morning I found a small scorpion. They are everywhere, I will have to be careful.

An old man handed me a note today. It introduced him in broken English and explained that his wife had just died. The note begged for help, but I could do nothing but turn him away and point him towards the Red Cross compound in town.

I also shaved my head in Mogadishu, the kids seem amused by the tall, bald, white soldier. It is hard at times. The kids all beg for pencils or books to practice their English.   I have to stop, I'm giving away everything I own to the children, my money, my magazines, my food . . . The kids are all so cute, it is hard to resist their pleas.

Through the afternoon we try to stay under cover, out of the sun, but it doesn't help much. admittedly, I like the heat, but I'm not used to it and must watch myself.

31 December 92

Relief flights have been coming in one after another. It is all we can do to keep the people back until the planes are unloaded.  The shots in the village are getting closer, the last burst this morning just outside our perimeter. They are getting bolder.

I have been learning to speak Somali from the children. So far I can count and say a few simple sentences, but it is very hard. No sooner do I learn one thing than I forget another. I have to watch though because I always have a crowd of people following me, so I get in trouble from the OC.

I found a small scorpion on my sleeping mat this morning after I got up, it makes me nervous to sleep on the ground like this.

The Somali shilling is practically worthless, the kids tear it up and throw it at you and will give you up to 500 Shillings for a Chicklet. A small, homemade Popsicle sells for 500 Shillings and a cheap handmade knife for 16,000 Shillings.

1 January 93

Happy New Years! We are sending out patrols into the village and the surrounding area now. The Americans captured a SU-23-2 yesterday in town.

Sgt Veary warned me about socializing with the locals yesterday, so I must watch myself. If you try and have a conversation with one person, a crowd invariably gathers and that is dangerous. It is a shame though because I was actually beginning to pick up some of the language and was learning a lot about the area and the people.

It has been very trying on the emotions, some of the things I have seen. There are so many crippled and nearly blind kids and such widespread hunger.

There is one little girl who comes by every day wearing her best cloths. She never begs or says anything like the others, she just stands and watches and runs away giggling whenever I look at her. I hate to think what will become of her or the others. What future do they have? She is back again today. She doesn't speak any English, but introduced herself and her little brother in Somali. Her name is Ifraa. It is good to at least be able to say hello and introduce yourself in their language, I hope I can learn more.

Yesterday a thin, frail crippled man crawled up to me and asked for water or food, but there was nothing I could do. The look of despair in his eyes nearly destroyed me, but he is just one of the many. It is so hard to not let it affect you.

Many of the older men thank us for coming to help them by chasing away the bandits. But if we do not track down the bandits and disarm them, then any solution is only as temporary as our stay. They will begin to trust us and hope for a better future, then we will pull out leaving them in the same situation we found them in. If the US continues to insist on its present policy of just securing the food shipments then leaving, then there can be no solution or lasting peace.

The REMF's have set up quite the base by the airstrip with modular tents and cots, but they are still loosing it and can't handle the extreme conditions. Meanwhile, here we are living in trenches without enough water to drink, let alone wash, covered in dust and filth. I haven't had a hot meal since I arrived.  We are given four bottles of water a day, barely enough to satisfy our never ending thirst. Before every meal, I wet down a rag and wash myself with it. Covered in dirt, salt and dust amidst all this disease it is only a matter of time before we get sick.

The Americans have been dropping these leaflets from helicopters. This one says that the coalition is here to protect the food brom being stolen by the bandits.

First Patrols into Town

2 January 93

Sgt Veary, Bruce and I went on a small patrol into Beled Weyne at 18:30 last night just after last light. On the outskirts of town are the refugee camps. Starving mothers sleeping in the dirt with their emaciated babies. Rotting carcasses and skeletons of dead livestock everywhere. The smell of death, filth and despair choke you. How can I explain it? It is too unreal. Your mind shuts down and you try and deny it, but you can't because the images haunt you.

Many of the guys deal with it by dehumanizing the people, treating them like animals or savages. I cannot do that. I see them as people with hopes, dreams and feelings, but it hurts too much to care.

Once you hit the actual town it is like some twisted post-apocalyptic vision from a Mad Max film. Families living in the rubble of destroyed buildings, cannibalized vehicles and machinery are everywhere. The darkness is penetrated only by the few oil lamps, the light flickering and dancing. We move silently through the shadows, our weapons and attention chasing after every movement. Our eyes and ears probe into the dark shadows, searching for movement, for danger. Machine gun fire rings out in the distance. We pause for a moment to listen, judging the direction and distance. We move off again, gunfire has become such a common occurance it is nothing to worry greatly about.

Heading down towards the river and the greener part of town, things improve. This is the shadow of what once was. Green trees and a semblance of order. The smell of decay is absent, at one point I even smelled flowers, roses maybe. Just past this better part of town is the graveyard. No markers, just countless graves. We pass an old man in the street. He nods, waves and wishes us a good night in Somali, "xagee wanaqsan." He smiles, thankful for the measure of peace and security we have brought to his family.

The night before, patrols in town found a weapons cache, got shot at, and captured some weapons. Today we found some stolen aid and the bandits tried to hijack another aid shipment.

The constant begging by the kids is starting to wear thin on my nerves, thank god we will be away from here soon. One of the kids parents brought me a rubber hose to beat the children if they bother us. I won't use it, but the threat of it usually scares them away.

3 January 96

Patrols were canceled last night. We got up at 3:30, packed up quickly and headed out. The main street in town, across the bridge, was eery, like a dream. It is like nothing I have ever seen before. Shops and restaurants lined the street, small white buildings with a name painted on them. Against the buildings, refugees have built small shelters, not five feet across. Some are nothing more than a boundary laid out with sticks, the family sleeping in the street.

We walked 6 km’s to a new camp on the outskirts of the next town. My ruck was oppressively heavy, too heavy with the C6. We spent the rest of the morning clearing brush for tents and digging in. At about noon, we crawled into our new holes to get away from the heat of the day.

4 January 93

At eleven this morning, they decided to move back to the airstrip until the ships arrive and we get our vehicles. We tore down camp and sat waiting in the afternoon sun for a ride back to the airstrip.

The town was alive with activity as we drove back through it in a beat up old blue Somali truck. Street side vendors and the stores sold everything imaginable. If it wasn't for the refugees, bombed out buildings and the slums, you would never know there was a war going on and the famine was killing thousands.

Everything here is so varied and different, each time you look around you get a different impression. The people are so terribly poor, their economy is in ruin, yet they continue to struggle for life. They recycle and sell whatever they can find. Bundles of sticks are sold in town for firewood. Old vehicles are stripped completely and all of the parts are reused. The rubble from one destroyed building is used to build another.

Back at the airstrip, we moved back into our old trenches and settled down for the night. In our absence, the Somalis have come and taken everything we left behind. They even dug up our burned garbage pits and latrines in their search. It is terrible what desperation and poverty will drive a person too.

What amazes me is the differences between Somalis and their lack of respect for human life. Many of the Somalis are well dressed and fairly clean, while many others are dressed in rags if anything at all. The 'well off' Somalis treat the cripples, the orphans and the 'poor' with contempt. There is probably enough food in the city for everyone without the aid, but they still loot and steal instead of helping one another. The well to do Somalis are making money off of the refugees' misery and our relief operations.

Can I condemn them though with all the poor and homeless in our own country? How munch do we do for them? This is also probably partially our fault. What else would you expect after a legacy of colonial oppression and corruption?

Others blame them for being backward, ignorant and stuck in their ways. But can you blame them? Living at or below the sustenance level, concerned only about obtaining water or food, how can they be different?

It worries me how all this will affect me afterwards. A great deal will depend on what we manage to accomplish here and what good I can do. I still think that these images will haunt me for many years. I can never be the same.

Tonight a small frail boy came and sat near my trench. He was so thin and weak it hurt just to look at him. On one of his wrists, he had a Red Cross or CARE number bracelet. I motioned for him to stay and chased the rest of the kids away with my pistol - the only thing they understand.

Once everyone else was gone I gave him some bread and a bottle of water. It was all he could do just to hold it, he was so weak. He smiled and walked away with me watching over him should one of the little buggers from town return and steal it from him. When he disappeared from view, I continued to watch on, worried. He is so small, frail and weak that there is no way he could even protest if someone tried to take it from him.

The other kids are back begging for everything and the sounds of their voices makes me sick. I am tempted to shoot one so they will go away. These kids who beg don't need food or water, but they beg anyway then go downtown to sell whatever they get. Meanwhile, those who do need watch on from a distance, too weak to ask for help. These kids surrounding me are all well dressed, well fed and have money in their pockets. I am beginning to despise them.

5 January 93

Today has been nice and cool (35^o C) because of a fairly continuous cloud cover.

This afternoon, a cripple came up to me and presented a letter stating that he could not work because of his disability and asked us if we could help him by recommending him to the aid agencies in town who had already turned him away. I took the letter to the platoon commander who replied "No" as expected, but I found that I could not fully explain why to him in his language. With the help of another Somali, I explained to him that it was not within our mandate, that we are only here to provide a measure of security. With reluctance I sent him away. I wish I could do more, but in my position my hands are tied.

Afterwards, my translator split a mango with me, much to Sgt Veary’s dismay. Not wishing to insult my new friend, I took it and ate it. It was good, if not a bit rich.

Tonight we are pulling another patrol into town, only now it is more a ‘hearts and minds’ mission with me as a partial emissary. If that is how it turns out...

The U.S. are dropping pamphlets on the town. Today's states our purpose of providing security to the aid shipments and warns the people not to ‘oppose our might.’

I bought an old tattered Somali/English dictionary for five dollars American tonight. It is highly overpriced, but I really wanted it. I still feel bad though because he was reluctant to sell it. I feel as if I have stolen his dreams of a better life for a few morsels of food.

Tpr Jacob lost it today. He couldn't handle the pressure anymore and snapped. All I know so far is that they took away his ammo and took him to CS 0 for 48 hours to assess his situation.

6 January 93

Our patrol last night was uneventful, although 1 Cdo found a weapons cache. Everything is happening on the east side of town while our AOR is usually quiet. All we managed to do was search one car.

The deaf guy was back today and brought me a notebook. I would like to try and find something for him to read, but can’t. The thin, frail boy was by again today, his name is Mohammed.

An American Herc has been dropping more psy-op pamphlets over the village all afternoon. These ones say that weapons will not be tolerated in Beled Weyne and asks the people to turn them in.

Last night during our patrol, some civilians complained that soldiers had busted into a house and confiscated six guns. Then in our O group today we were told that six weapons were turned over to 1 Cdo. Everything came to a head when some men came to our position saying that soldiers had kicked in their door and confiscated their weapons telling them that they would be returned to them the next day. They were angry and wanted their weapons back because they are the security guards for the Red Cross. They were sent to see the OC of 1 Cdo and that is the last I heard about it.

It has been cloudy for a couple of days now and this evening it even rained. It was only a sprinkle, not enough to even mention, but quite an event around here.

7 January 93

There is more shooting going on now, the crack of rounds flying past your head is becoming commonplace. The locals are beginning to get restless.

It is unbearably hot here. Every day is 55°C (132°F) in the shade. It is always 55° because that is as high as our thermometers go. The ration of a few litres of warm water we get every day is barely enough. Our cloths are stained with the salt of our sweat mixed with the red dust of the desert. We spend as much of the day as possible under cover, moving as little as possible. Only in the evening do we emerge from our holes, safe from the blistering heat of the sun.

8 January 93

I seem to be coming down with a cold or the flu. I just hope it is nothing worse, being in contact with so many infectious diseases and always talking with the locals. If I'm still feeling sick tomorrow, I'll talk to a medic.

I haven't been sleeping well lately. I am plagued by violent disturbing dreams and wake countless times during the night. They are never nightmares, just strange dreams filled with strong conflicting and unusual emotions. I think I am becoming calloused to the things I am seeing around me. It worries me.

I haven’t seen Ifraa since we moved out to the new position and back, I hope she’s okay.

Sickness

9 January 93

The fever hit last night during the patrol. I wandered dazed through the shadows of town like in a half dream. Most of the time the pistol in my hand hung limply by my side instead of chasing movements in the shadows. Hallucinations haunted me like some surreal drug trip and my mind reeled at the horror that surrounds me.

Last night after the patrol, as we were going to ground, two paraflares went up and we stood-to. 20 men had been advancing on 32's position, but the light of the flares scared them away. Then this morning during stand-to, five shots were fired in rapid succession across the field from us. It is such a common occurrence now, nobody even really took notice.

After stand-to this morning, still in fever, I passed out in my trench for a few hours. The rest did me good, it is the most I've had in awhile.

Most of the refugees live in small huts made with sticks and covered with animal hides or sheets of plastic. They cook and sleep outside. The huts are surrounded by a fence made of thistle bushes like the ones we have erected around our perimeter in place of barbed wire. These fences are used to pen in their few goats, donkeys or sheep.

The farmers on the outskirts of town live in a more typical African hut made of interwoven sticks with a thatched roof. These are then sometimes plastered with mud or dung.

In town, the people live in the few remaining buildings, in the many ruins, in small shanties built up against the sides of walls, or just in the street. The whole town is littered with feces, garbage and the carcasses of dead animals. The stench of death and disease is overpowering at times, forcing you to gag.

The only sources of water in the town are the well and the muddy river water. Both are contaminated and a long walk for most of the people.

The temperature is well over 50o C (120o F) today and there is little wind. The sweat evaporates as fast as I produce it, yet everything I touch is soaked. My body is stained with the salt I sweat out, my head hurts from dehydration, we crawl into the shade and move as little as possible.  It has been abnormally hot the past few days, too hot to sleep on this quiet afternoon. So instead I washed my underwear and socks with the bit of extra water we have been given and stripped down to my shorts to air out my tired body.

Tonight, after the sun goes down, we will fill sandbags to re-enforce our position. I only have one, two hour shift tonight. Maybe I can sleep for once.

11 January 93

What a rough couple of days. The 'cold' led to heat exhaustion and I felt like I would die. I had all the symptoms, headache, exhaustion, dizziness, muscle cramps, nausea, diarrhea, loss of appetite and hot and cold spells. I’m staying in the shade for the entire day today, if I can, and am starting to feel better.

Jacob is going back to Canada. He was returned to his platoon, but he soon lost it again, so they are taking no more chances. Mike Hunter is another stress casualty. He got married just before he came over to a woman he’d only known a few weeks. He is now having marital problems and stress has taken its toll. We also have many heat and diarrhea related casualties, but most of us are staying in the field.

One of the Somali kids snuck past the thorn barriers and stole Lt Webb’s carry on bag with his CD player. We got the bag back and a couple of the things in it, but the CD player is missing.  Womack’s wallet has also been stolen.  $100 and credit cards also missing.  People are starting to get pissed off at the kids.  Someone has already shot a Somali who came at him with a knife. It won’t be the last as tensions are rising between us and the villagers.

12 January 93

Whatever I have, it won't leave me alone. The diarrhea has gotten severe and is quickly draining me of energy. I am losing fluids faster than I can replace them, it is keeping me up all night and I still can't eat. I'm exhausted. I am barely strong enough to walk to the latrine, having to sit and rest numerous times on the trip. Usually I have to turn around and head back again before I even get back to my trench. Often I don't make it and am living in my own filth.  The medics gave me pills to slow up the shits. If it hasn't gone away by tomorrow they will evacuate me to the med-station.  It is one in the afternoon, I have taken all the pills the medics gave me and it has not helped one bit. I've already shit myself three times. I’m miserable.

13 January 93

I have lost a noticeable amount of weight in the past few days. My fingers are so much smaller that my once tight ring falls right off and the flab on my stomach is gone. The medics think I have dysentery. I don't even really know what that is or how bad it is. Maybe I'll find out more tomorrow.  I have been going to the washroom less frequently today, but the cramps have been bad. I still have no appetite even though and I'm wasting away.  The pills did some measure of good in that they reduced the frequency of my shits enough that I could get a few hours of sleep last night. The sleep did me good and I feel a bit better today. The main difference is that I am not so weak which in itself is a world of difference.

Ifraa returned again last evening wearing her good cloths. She is so shy and bashful, hiding behind her friends and running away whenever I look at her.  I'm glad to see her again, I was beginning to worry about her.

Okerlund had a bag stolen from his trench today. He lost his camcorder, tapes, beret, passport, camera, etc. All that has been returned so far is his passport.

An old man brought his sick young child to us the other day. The child has TB, but there is nothing any of us can do. The child will be dead soon.

News from this evening's O'group:  C/S 8 is no longer allowed to have mags on their weapons because they've had so many accidental discharges. A few days ago an RCD officer shot himself in the arm while cleaning his pistol. A marine was killed in an ambush in Mogadishu today or yesterday. Also we have been informed that the bandits have moved back into Beled Weyne.

14 January 93

We are moving to the main camp this morning, filling in nearly all of our trenches and only leaving one platoon to secure the airstrip.

There was a great deal of gunfire in the village all through the night. Maybe they are right about the return of the bandits. I wonder what it could mean for us.

The New Camp

14 January 93

Only our platoon moved to the new camp today. We loaded up on Somali trucks and once more made the drive through town. On our way through I saw 2 stripped down BRDM 1's in a courtyard.

We spent the day setting up wire around the perimeter, digging bunkers and setting up tents. In the afternoon I went over to C/S 0 and C/S 8 to pick up supplies. They are living in buildings, sleeping on cots and have ''fridges connected to generators. They drink ice cold beer and water while the little water we have is hot from sitting in the sun. Seeing all this sent my moral on a dive for the rest of the day.

As the sun went down, we worked on our sleeping areas in the tents. We have three sections of modular tent for six of us, so there is plenty of room. I then had my first hot meal and went out to the solar shower we set up for my first good wash in 2 ½ weeks. I never thought a shower could feel so good.

Sgt Quinton found a four inch long scorpion crawling into his sleeping bag. Everyone is shaking out their kit and putting up their mosquito nets before bed.

15 January 93

Today was spent finishing the bunkers and perimeter wire, and, improving our tents. Nine platoon arrived this morning and slept all day while we worked and did security. Our commando is the only unit in the whole battle group with this much security. Over at C/S 8 yesterday, they didn't even have wire around their position or anyone on security.

Our carriers, cots and barrack boxes arrived this afternoon. With the white liners we put up in our tent, we are living extremely comfortably now. It's hard to believe we were living in the dirt beside a trench just a couple of days ago.

I packed a ration box full of stuff to mail back to Canada. They made us bring so much useless kit that we are swamped. What do I need my full arctic sleeping bag, sweater, and rain gear for?  Typical Canadian planning, we needed info on the climate here, somebody in Ottawa looked up desert in the dictionary, it said cold at night, so we bring cold weather gear.  I Guess they couldn't find anything on the Ogaden desert in their encyclopedias.

My shits came back today and my sinuses are stuffed up. I hope its not making a comeback.

16 January 93

It is a quiet day. I spend it lounging around the tent and doing security. Kelleher and Glover are on shit burning detail today. They pour diesel into the half barrels from our latrine, light it and burn it to ash by stirring and adding more diesel. The smell of burning shit fills the camp and gets into everything.

They are setting up a generator and laying wire, so we should have electricity soon. We will even have two 'fridges for the camp to cool down some beer and water. Life is improving by bounds every day.

I've been shitting all morning, but I can still eat and drink so it is not leaving me as weak as it has in the past.

The Red Cross has pulled out of Bardera because one of their workers was killed a few days ago. Fighting has been intensifying in Mogadishu and they expect with the US presence, the gunmen will leave the city and head out here.

All the gunfire we heard the night before we came here was a hostage taking at the bridge in which a woman was shot. Two commando will be doing something about this tomorrow, but I don't know what. Also, one of our patrols found a body this morning. Just another killing.

Talking with the guys who drove our carriers up, apparently Mogadishu is a war torn city. Every building is shot up, bombed out or fallen down. Some marines were ambushed re-entering their own lines and a Pakistani was killed in another incident.

I feel another shit coming on, so that's enough writing for tonight. This will be the tenth shit today, so far. . . Not as bad as before, but still not pleasant.

17 January 93

I still have the diarrhea this morning, so I went to see the medics. They gave me Ciprofloxain 500mg, an anti-bacterial medicine. We have nicknamed the disease webi shabeelle belly after the river that runs through town. Many of us have it and there is often a line for the latrine, you shit yourself often.

We spent the rest of the day re-enforcing our perimeter and filling sandbags. It's hard work under the afternoon sun, but we don't work in the mornings and evenings like we were taught to. Our officers are too used to the nine to five workday and refuse to adjust. It's not them out there in the sun though.

Kirkland, Harding and Veary took the carrier out today to test fire the weapons in the turret and zero them. There are problems with the aim, but we will have to work through them.  "Just remember, aim high and right... or was that low and left?!?"

I am listening to some of the others talk about the locals. I overhear many derogatory comments. "We should use this place as a nuclear dump, its worthless." "I never let the fuckin' savages close to me. If they get too close I shove my rifle barrel in their chest." "Fuckin' tar monkeys, why should we help them? If they haven't improved in the last thousand years, they won't improve now. They're so backwards. Why bother?"

The racism and closed mindedness astounds me. The majority of our people hate the Somalis and the country. It is backward and in rough condition, but it also has beauty and culture. They just can't deal with anything different.

18 January 93

I spent a quiet day writing letters and reading. Henderson found a large maggot living in his leg. Tomorrow we are going out to fire the machine guns and other support weapons.

19 January 93

This morning we drove to the other end of Beled Weyne and then out into the country side to test fire all of our weapons. The troops fired their C7s and C9s, then we put a belt of ammo through each of the C6s.

It is amazing the number of weapons the seven of us in HQ/Wpn’s Det have. Just among us we have;

It’s a lot of firepower for seven people. I just haven’t figured out how we are supposed to carry it all should anything happen.  It is quite the difference from a few weeks ago when I couldn't even get a magazine full of ammo for my pistol, let alone a belt of ammo for my C6.

I did my wash this afternoon. I was quite the chore doing it in a wash tub with a washboard. It took all afternoon to wash and dry two changes of cloths. As soon as they were hung on the line, they were covered in dirt again by the passing dust devils. At least they didn't stink as much as they had.

Apparently they have negotiated a cease-fire between Ali Mahdi and Aidid. If all goes well and we manage to secure our AOR on schedule, we could be going back to Canada by the end of March. The Islamic fundamentalists didn't attack on the 16^th as they said they would. Intelligence is now saying the attack will come tomorrow. In our original orders we were told that it was Aidid's forces that would attack if we didn't recognize him as president, as usual, conflicting orders.

After three days of taking the pills I still have diarrhea, but they have helped. The diarrhea is less frequent and I can sleep through the night.

20 January 93

I managed to get through to Mom on the satellite phone last night at about midnight here, 4 p.m. there.  It was really weird, I didn't know what to say and we just sat there for long periods of silence.  I cannot describe what it is like here or what we are going through, so little is left to say.  I guess it is good to let her know I am okay though.

After breakfast this morning we painted the carriers tan. They are still UN white in accordance with our original mission. Now that our mandate is peace making instead of peace keeping we opt for some degree of camouflage. We have no paint, so we mix dirt and water in the laundry tubs and smeared it on with our hands. We were a sight, grown men playing in the mud.

The rest of the day was spent preparing to go out on patrol - packing kit, loading the carriers and catching up on sleep.

Earlier this afternoon someone found a small scorpion in their ration pack. It was tiny, about the size of your pinky nail. It was so small that it all but disappeared in the sand. Chris also found a scorpion by his bed. I cut the top off a water bottle and captured him. With the top taped off and some air holes, I have a new pet. Pedro is about two inches long and has huge claws and a large venom sac on his tail. He also moves very quick. He is a formidable little guy. Tomorrow I will make him a better home.

While test driving their carrier earlier today, C/S 32C hit on old man. The bridge across the river is barely wide enough for a vehicle and pedestrians must step right off to the side. I guess he didn’t get over far enough. They took him to the hospital for minor cuts, luckily he is okay.

This evening some canteen supplies came in. We got some South African beer called Castle Lager and a few cartons of the Kenyan cigarettes that all the Somalis smoke, Sportsman's. I drank my two beer as slowly as possible and read and re-read my first letter to arrive, from Heather.

As I was reading, a cat ran by my tent. It reminded me of the kitten the Somali kids were torturing last week. They had a newborn kitten and were carrying it around roughly by the scruff of the neck. They had already poked one of its eyes out and were delighting in its screams of pain as they threw it into the thorn bushes. The children would fight over it, tearing at it as it mewed and screamed in pain and fear.

It tore me apart to see them doing this. I wanted to run out and put it out of its misery or nurse it back to health, but instead did nothing. Watching that taught me a great deal about how much value these people put in life.

21 January 93

We were allowed to sleep in until 7:30 this morning, but I was up over an hour before that. My sleep is still filled with violent and disturbing dreams. Repeatedly through the night I start awake, bolting upright in bed. I no longer sleep with a round in the chamber of my pistol. The other night Harding woke me in the middle of a dream by poking me with the barrel of his rifle. When I came to my senses, my pistol was out, finger on the trigger.

It is happening to everyone. You can tell when you wake them or by listening during the night, but no-one talks about it.

The wind and dust is getting really bad in camp. Everything is quickly covered by a thin layer of dirt that manages to work its way into everything. We have to constantly clean our weapons and we are filthy again minutes after washing.

This morning I made Pedro an aquarium out of an old bottle and tried to feed him a large grasshopper, but he wasn't hungry. Three section has a pet tarantula named Boris, so we threw him and Pedro into a ration box and let them fight it out. Pedro went on the attack, but Boris kept running away. Eventually Pedro caught him and they went at it. Pedro stung Boris repeatedly then started pulling off his legs.

Unwilling to admit defeat, three section searched their tent and found a scorpion about twice the size of Pedro and insisted on a rematch. I tried to back out until tomorrow, but they would have none of that. Even though Pedro was tired he was aggressive and put Hogan on the run. Eventually Pedro managed to get up on Hogan's back and tried repeatedly to get his stinger through Hogan's armour.

After a bitter struggle, Hogan managed to get his stinger into Pedro's stomach. The match ended with Hogan parading around with Pedro impaled on his tail. I was sorry to see Pedro killed and vowed to avenge his death.

One commando's sergeant major broke his back and some facial bones in an APC accident today. Also C/S 62 hit a mine blowing four tires off their vehicle. Somehow no-one was hurt. WO Sorbie got bit by a scorpion earlier today. His leg went numb and he ended up with a splitting headache. It was an eventful day.

Intelligence reports that General Aidid is calling together his commanders for a conference. It is probably a prelude to a push for power.

Today I finished the Ciprofloxain and I'm still repeatedly rushing to the latrine and shitting myself. I hope this passes soon, it is draining.

First Patrol into the Desert

22 January 93

This morning, our platoon headed out on a two day patrol down the Mogadishu highway. Our platoon split up with bravo and charlie sections going with the engineers to check suspected mine fields and us along with alpha touring the villages on a hearts and minds campaign.

We passed three or four small villages before we finally stopped at a small village called Treejante. Lt Webb talked to the village elders and filled out a report on the town while the rest of us walked around the village handing out Canada flag pins and talked with the locals.

The villagers told us that the last time soldiers were in this village they lined up five children on the road and ran them down with their vehicles. To Siad Barre's troops, that was a show of force.

How much better are we? These people are starving, begging us for help and all we do is shake their hands and give them Canada pins then tear apart their homes searching for weapons.

From there we headed north again to meet up with an American Special Forces A team. Next we stopped at in a town called Beerxaano and tried to talk to the villagers there, but no-one spoke english. I talked briefly in Somali with one man, Ahmed Hussein, but only learned where the mosque was.

Just north of Beerxaano we met up with the rest of the platoon and pulled into a hide for lunch. They hadn't found any evidence of the mine fields they had been searching for.

After lunch, the entire platoon headed even further south to Nuur Fanax where we turned east off the main road up a dirt track. About ten kilometers up the road we came across a destroyed water truck. This was the location of another suspected minefield, so we began to search. There were no mines, but the truck had definitely hit an anti-tank mine. Probably just one of the many lone mines scattered along these tracks.

Further along we found a deserted village. It appeared that the only remaining residents were those resting in the overly large graveyard. We explored about six kilometers further then turned back to the highway for the night.

We set up a defensive position on a hill overlooking the highway.  Each of us build up small stone walls for protection and lay down in the dirt beside them to sleep.

23 January 93

Last night at about 3:30 a.m. two pickups approached our roadblock at high speed, spaced about 500 metres apart.  2 Section called stand-to, put up paraflares and attempted to stop the vehicles.  The lead vehicle sped up and made it by our position.  Darnell fired warning shots, but the lead vehicle got away.  Seeing that he was trapped the second driver abandoned his vehicle and ran off into the desert.  We brought the vehicle, a tan Toyota Land Cruiser pickup into our compound after searching it.  This morning as we were preparing to leave, the owner of the truck showed up to claim it. He said it was stolen the night before in a town south of here and he was on his way to Beled Weyne to search for it.

We patrolled south along the highway then headed West towards the river along dirt tracks. When we pulled into the first village everyone hid from us. Gradually people started coming out. Even though there are many huts in this village, most are deserted. Most of the children seem to be retarded either from disease or malnutrition.

I wonder how anyone can live here. It is barren for miles in every direction, broken only by the small thorn bushes that grow everywhere. There is no well in this village, only the river which is still several kilometers away.

We spent the afternoon driving through every village along the river on our way back to Beled Weyne. We stopped and searched a few huts, but mostly we just waved at the people as we drove by.

The racism and closed mindedness of some of the troops continues to astound me. They are turning their own hardships and poor morale against the Somalis. They continue to believe that these people are just backwards and can't be helped. As if any other country would be in better shape after years of drought, war and oppression. One only has to look at the amount of equipment we require to survive in this environment to know who is incompetent.

Even though I understand why the others think the way they do, it hurts my morale and hampers our mission here. After all, how much will we help a people we care nothing about?

Everyone is looking for an excuse to open. I really believe that the only thing preventing a killing is our strict orders and the belief they will be charged if they do. Still, they look for excuses to and as the situation continues to degenerate they will find ways to get around orders and the law to take out their frustrations on the people, whether deserved or not.

Unless peoples attitudes change, shit is going to start to happen. It has only been one month, what is it going to be like in another four or five? Will I be able to prevent what I know is wrong, or will I too eventually succumb to the pressures? We may soon learn about our dark side.

I try drinking, but the two beer ration doesn't even touch it, so instead I crank my Walkman. At least while drowning in deafening music I can't think. It is my mind, not the Somalis, that will destroy me here.

The Routine of Patrolling

24 January 93

We spent a quiet day refitting to go back out on patrol again tomorrow. We replaced the rations and water we used and cleaned all of our weapons.

I was on general duties today, so I spent the morning filling jerry-cans, but luckily I just missed shit-burning detail.  We prepared a barbecue for the troops in camp from the fresh rations that just arrived.  I sliced potatoes, carrots and onions (and my finger.)  Then I was relieved half way through cooking so that I could enjoy the fruits of my labour.

After diner we played with the captured weapons. There were AKs, G-3s, HK-21s, Thomson, Berretta and Sterling machine guns, and an anti-tank gun to name a few. We practiced stripping and assembling each of the weapons and learned to operate them all. We never know if we will have to use a captured weapon, so this experience is invaluable.  I tried to convince the Lt to let me have an AK, but to no avail.  Usually I only carry this ancient pistol they issued me, I would feel more comfortable with a reliable weapon, even if it was captured.

There were two AK's here today, both in rough condition, but like all AK's extremely workable.  One was stamped and the other machines.  The machined one felt good in my hands, I didn't want to let it go.

We were issued our Tilley hats today.  They will be much better at keeping the sun off of us than our bush hats designed for Canada.  We put up the mess tent today and we now have a TV and VCR, not that we are ever in camp anymore to watch them.

25 January 93

We were up early this morning and into the carriers for our next patrol.  Doary remained behind because he is going on R&R in Nairobi tomorrow.  He is going to recce out all the good spots and let me know for when I get to go.

We spent the morning driving south on the Mogadishu highway.  I was a wild boar near the road.  They have some pretty strange animals that look like small deer with long rabbit ears.  They stand about 2 feet high and travel in small packs.  The vultures which constantly circle Beled Weyne are huge, with wingspans of about 5 feet.  There are also mongooses, dingos, cranes, vipers and other animals that I do not recognize.

After driving 85 km south, we turned east down a dirt track for a couple of hours.  We stopped for lunch near a small hamlet and sat in the shade of the bushes.  This area is much greener than Beled Weyne.

During the afternoon we continued east.  We travelled through land populated only by nomadic camel herders, passing hundreds of camels and camps on the way.  All along the road were Somali graves.  They bury their dead shallow, covering the bodies in a mound of rocks or dirt.  The grave sites are then surrounded by a high wall of logs and brush to keep the animals away.

Eventually the road faded to a foot trail which faded away into the bush as it travelled up into the hills.  We tried to get past the rocky outcrops, but the carriers couldn't make it.  We finally turned back when the engineer vehicle got a flat tire.  As we fixed the tire, monkeys came to watch us from the rocks above.  A dozen or so nomads then came out of the bush and approached us.  Apparently they had been following us.

We continued to travel cross country for awhile, but alpha's steering failed and required the assistance of the MRT.  It turned out that it was not the steering, but a flat front tire which we haphazardly patched.  The thorns here are amazing, punching through the inches of rubber on the tires of our armoured vehicles.  Bravo then had two more flats and we had one badly torn front tire which couldn't be repaired.  We traded tires around and patched what we could.  We moved our centre tire to the front and put a large bison tire in the middle and began limping back towards the main road.  Alpha's tire kept going flat and Bravo's totally blew.

We have no spares and are trying to decide what to do.  We consider limping home on the flats or scavenging tires off of the eight wheeled bison which should be able to run on six.  We eventually decide on the first option and begin limping the 10 km back to the main road.

26 January 93

We didn't make it.  About one or two kilometers from the main road, the sun was setting fast and we had two more flats.  Charlie section and starlight showed up with another grizzly and bison tire, so we went to work changing and patching tires while the rest of the platoon set up a defensive perimeter.

We begin moving again at 6 a.m. and continue towards the main road.  Our carrier is running on 4 grizzly and 2 bison tires.  Even though the bison tires are 2 inches wider we are making good time.

As we worked last night, we found two millipedes which were as big around as my thumb and about 6 inches long.  These have to be the ugliest bugs I have ever seen!

The nomads are pretty weird.  They have no idea about the coalition or what we are doing here.  Many of them think we are Italians from the colonial days.  Whenever we stop for any length of time, dozens of them slowly and cautiously begin appearing out of the bush.

Last night once the work was finished, I was talking to the medic about female circumcision (that is what the Somalis call it, I prefer genital mutilation.) When Somali women reach puberty, their vulva are cut out, usually with broken glass, then their vaginas are sewn shut. When they are married, the man uses his dagger to cut her back open to his size. I doubt many Somali women have fond memories of their 'honeymoon.'

Each time they give birth, they are cut open again. I guess all that scar tissue doesn't stretch enough. After birth, they are once again sewn up back to the man's size. Throughout the discussion, all I could think about was the pain the future holds for Ifraa and her friends. I want to take her back to Canada, to adopt her and give her a better life. But she is only one child in the midst of all this suffering.

The medic also told me about some of the things she had seen working in the local hospital over the last month. One lady came in five months pregnant, but had miscarried a month before and was still carrying the dead fetus. Another woman with gangrene was waiting in the hospital for her leg to fall off or to die, apparently Somalis don't believe in amputation.

We headed north along the highway to the town of Halgen where we stopped and searched for weapons.  We talked to an ex-officer from Siad Barre's airforce, a MIG-19 pilot.  He said that Halgen was the safest town in the area with no bandits, guns or soldiers.  All we found was some stolen aid, not enough to worry about, so we moved on, searching the villages to the north.  Every hour or so we had to stop to refill leaking tires.

Eventually alpha's tire had to be replaced, so we pulled into a defensive position and cannibalized the engineer vehicle.  We removed two of its tires and chained up the hubs.  We then changed one of alpha's rear tires for the flat front one and put one of the spare bison tires we had gained on the back.  All this took over two hours and we were not on the road again until after eleven.

We met up with callsign 32 just north of Beerxaano where we stopped for lunch and to await a resupply of tires and fuel.  We then waited for 39'er (the commanding officer) to arrive and give us new orders.

A bag of mail was stolen going through town on its way from the airstrip.  It probably contained my one and only parcel.  That would be just my luck considering I've only received one letter in the whole month I've been here.

Our orders for tonight are to make a deliberate night raid on the town of Yesoumon along with callsign 32.  We have had several reports of 15 to 20 bandits in the town who have been setting up a roadblock to rob passing vehicles.  They apparently head for the hills whenever our vehicles approach, so we are going in on foot to try and catch them.

We travel east then south on dirt tracks, moving fast and in blackout drive.  All is black around us, the drivers navigating by night vision devices.  We stop about 30 km's out for confirmatory orders and prepare our weapons.  Our turret had a power wire caught in the gears, so Rick pulled out his AK bayonet and tried to fix it.  Somehow he touched the wrong thing.  Bright sparks flew everywhere and all I could see through the thick blue smoke was Rick scrambling to get out of the turret with his ass on fire.  He definitely earned his new nickname, 'sparky.'

At ten we mounted up and travelled the last 30 km's south.

27 January 93

We dismounted a few kilometers out of town and began advancing on foot.  Our latest intelligence said that there were two roadblocks now, one at either end of town.

Arriving on the outskirts of town, we set up the C6 machine gun on the main road into town for a good field of fire.  Then just as we were preparing for the final push into town - psych - mission aborted.  The bandits had dispersed hours ago and had faded off into the countryside.  We turned around and made the long walk back to the carriers.

I slept in the back for the long drive back to base camp for refit.  Half way back we blew another tire.  I said fuck-it and went back to sleep as the others changed it.

Back at camp, the day passed quietly cleaning cloths and weapons, then doing maintenance on the carriers.  I got a letter from Nanny today, it was a welcome diversion.  Yesterday, 2 commando's quartermaster hit an anti-personnel mine which trashed his truck.  No-one was hurt, but it keeps you on your toes.

Becoming Calloused

28 January 93

It is practically a day off. All we had to do was put everything back in the carriers and restock water and rations. Then this evening we had a class in unarmed combat.  The day was actually pretty nice for a change.  It was cloudy all day which kept the temperature down and it even rained a bit before sunset.

T19C hit an anti-tank mine today.  Also, our rules of engagement have changed.  We can kill anyone with a weapon if they do not immediately surrender after a warning shot, even if they are running away.  We have also had kids infiltrating our position to steal stuff.  In return, we have set up trip flares in the concertina and have orders to shoot anyone caught within the perimeter, armed or not, if they do not surrender after a warning shot.

We will patrol the villages along the east side of the river tomorrow looking for weapons caches.  We will be taking an interpreter with us which should make us more effective.

29 January 93

We started late this morning because our interpreter showed up far past when he was supposed to arrive. When he (Abdul) finally arrived, we headed south, then east to search the large village by the river.  Finding nothing we headed south along the highway past Nuur Fanax where we stopped for lunch.

We searched a village farther south named Garesiyaani, then headed west to the village of Boauo.  It is a very large village where there was a great deal of fighting against Siad Barre's troops in the past.  A large amount of the village had been burnt to the ground.  The interpreter says there are many weapons here, but all we manage to find is a cache of anti­tank mines.

As we were driving into town earlier, a cloudburst hit us, drenching everything.  It was great!  It continued to rain all afternoon and into the evening, so when we pulled into our hide for the evening near Garesiyaani, we set up tarps behind the vehicles.  I slept there amongst the rocks.

32 had a contact today.  Near Yesouman, a lone gunman fired off a mag at them.  They returned fire with four C7's and a C9, but hit nothing and the gunman got away.

30 January 93

I sat up last night talking with Abdul about many things including his country.  He says that every household has a gun and that the only solution is to forceably disarm the entire country.  That would be quite a task.

We returned with the engineers to the town of Boauo to clear the mine cache.  While they were off, Pat and I bought some African cloth to send home.  We remove 13 TM and TMH 46 Soviet anti-tank mines from a hut in the village and take them a few kilometers out of town.  The engineers blew the mines while we watch from a few hundred meters away. 

We return to base camp to find the flags at half-mast.  Another marine has died in Mogadishu.

I pulled canteen duty this evening, so I am sitting here drinking more than my fair share of cold beer, listening to Jimi Hendrix and reading the Snow Leopard by Peter Mathiessen.  The Snow Leopard seems to be affecting me more than the first time I read it years ago.  I don't know if it is because of the situation I am in or the fact that I am at a more mature point in my life.

"Confronted by the pain of Asia, one cannot turn away.  In India, human misery seems so pervasive that one takes in only stray details; a warped leg or a dead eye, a sick pariah dog eating withered grass, an ancient woman lifting her sari to move her shrunken bowels by the road."

- Pg 12, The Snow Leopard, Peter Mathiessen.

These words speak to me.  I see so much pain, poverty and despair that my mind just shuts down, only registering the odd extreme details.  I was worrying because it wasn't effecting me the way it did when I first got here.  Am I becoming calloused to the grief I am confronted with every day?  The nightmare, no disturbing dreams, are becoming less frequent.  Is this a good sign?

Someone tried to infiltrate our position again tonight.  Last night he made it by the trip flares, but tonight we changed them from slack to tight wire and he set it off.  By the time the sentries got there, he was gone.  We have booby-trapped one of the jerry cans he has been stealing.  That will get him if we don't first.

31 January 93

I got a valentine's day card from my Mom this morning along with a letter from the daughter of the person who sent us a Christmas card. It is nice to receive these bits of mail from Canada, even if it is from people we don't know and just want to help in some small way.

Late this morning we got the word to mount up.  A Somali pickup had been stolen by 3 gunmen and we were off in hot pursuit.  We caught up with the vehicle in Beerxaano with a flat tire.  We found one guy in the vehicle with an AK, the others had fled.  Pat approached him cautiously, weapon at the ready and persuaded him to put down his weapon.  It was a brave thing for Pat to do even if every one of us had the Somalis' head in our sights and our fingers on the trigger.  The slightest twitch and he would have ceased to exist.

We searched the area, but did not find the others.  We did find some heavy weapons and anti-personnel mines though, so we called in the engineers to dispose of them.

Eventually the owner of the vehicle arrived with his entire extended family tagging along to help him tow it back to town.  We escorted him back to the police station and turned over our prisoner, probably to be released later in the day because the cells were full.

Cyprus - 1974

In April of 1974, 1 Commando was sent to the Mediterranean island of Cyprus in rotation of the United Nations Force in Cyprus (UNFICYP.) A few short months later fighting broke out between Cypriot forces in the capital Nicosia and UNFICYP was put on alert. It quickly became apparent that the Greek Cypriot National Guard had staged a coup d'etat, ousting the president Archbishop Makarios III.

Five days later Turkey invaded under the pretext of safe-guarding the Turkish minority on the island. The invasion began with airborne insertions near Nicosia and amphibious landings at Kyrenia. The Greek forces used UN positions to shield their defensive operations necessitating the evacuation of UN observation posts as they came under fire.

The UN forces worked tirelessly over the next few days to establish a tentitive cease-fire which gave the rest of the Airborne Regiment to deploy to Cyprus and re-enforce the UN troops and their 1 Commando bretheren.

On the second of August The Airborne CO, Colonel G. Lessard took command of the UN forces and began to take control of the situation through heavy patrolling, re-establishment of the UN Observation Posts and forcibly removing of Greek and Turkish roadblocks.

Then on the 14th of August the second wave of the Turkish invasion began and both sides began to target UN positions. Two days later a ceasefire was called and the Turks and Greeks began building defensive positions. Meanwhile, the Airborne troops patrolled the buffer zone between the lines, assisted with the delivery of relief supplies to refugees and organized exchanges of PoWs.

For their courage and professionalism during the Cyprus conflict, members of the Airborne Regiment received two Stars of Courage and six Medals of Bravery. Para G Perron and Para J.C. Berger from 1 Commando were killed and 30 other airborne soldiers were wounded.