Returning soldiers proud of achievements in Bosnia

COLORADO SPRINGS, Colo.--Lt. Shane Sims and his fellow soldiers shared one simple thought as they stepped off the plane in Colorado Springs after six months of Bosnian peacekeeping: Boy, does American air smell good.

It was a welcome change from Bosnia, where burning trash, pollution-spewing cars and other stenches can make a breath of fresh air hard to come by.

More than the air, these Fort Carson soldiers said they come home with a greater appreciation of the prosperity and relative harmony of the United States after having served in a war-torn country where people are splintered by hatred.

The few joyful memories they carry with them--playing soccer with Bosnian children and sharing coffee and conversation with locals--are overshadowed by horrific, heartbreaking scenes: skeletons of war victims, their blindfolds still intact, being removed from mass graves; houses with walls blasted out where people are trying to scratch out a life; and former neighbors, once close friends, who now speak only ill of one another.

This mission changed them, not just as soldiers, but as human beings.

"I don't want to ever forget what I saw there," Sims said. "If every soldier doesn't see life differently now, then they were over there with their eyes closed."

Coming home has presented its own challenges. Soldiers with families must again bond with their children, some who may not even recognize them anymore. The soldiers also must try to find a place in households that ran without them for six months.

In some cases, those transitions aren't happening at all. Several divorces are in the works among the soldiers coming home, though Fort Carson officials could not provide hard numbers.

Most soldiers are taking a few weeks of leave before they return to work in late October and begin the transformation from peacekeepers back to warriors.

But even as the Bosnia mission fades, the soldiers say they will remember the successes and failures, frustration and satisfaction of being Bosnian peacekeepers.

"What we did there, the accomplishments, will never die," said Capt. Jed Welder.

Added Lt. Jerry Hood: "It's something we'll talk about for the rest of our lives."

Lightning Troop, a Fort Carson unit of about 90 men, began training for the Bosnia mission in September 1999, developing the patience and restraint needed to be peacekeepers The soldiers' mission in Bosnia, as part of Stabilization Force or SFOR, was to preserve the 5-year-old peace agreement, while doing everything possible to make sure no U.S. soldier was injured or killed.

War broke out in Bosnia in April 1992 amid nationalist uprisings. During the war, Serbs brutally expelled Muslims from northern and eastern Bosnia.

Croats and Muslims also committed atrocities. In November 1995, the United States negotiated a deal that divided Bosnia between a Muslim-Croat alliance and the Serbs. Shortly afterward, troops arrived. By the U.S. Army's measures, the Bosnia mission was a success. War did not flare up again. No U.S. soldier was seriously injured or killed. SFOR returned some refugees to their homes and seized illegal weapons.

But Welder wasn't satisfied with a quiet mission. He was pushing for change.

"In peacekeeping, you are rewarded for nothing happening. It totally goes against the warrior mentality," he said. "But I figured we were there for six months, so why not help people, why not make a difference?"

For Welder, the 32-year-old commander of Lightning Troop, one of the sweetest successes was stopping illegal garbage dumping in Sultanovici, a hamlet outside the Serb city of Zvornik.

During the war, Serbs ran Muslims out of Sultanovici and the city began dumping trash there, literally burying two houses that stood in an otherwise beautiful valley. International authorities suspect dumping was started in order to cover up a mass grave.

More than 20 truckloads of trash were being dumped each day when Welder and Lightning Troop arrived in Bosnia in March. Shortly afterward, the Muslims who owned the trash-covered homes returned to try to dig out. Still, the trucks came every day.

International officials argued, pleaded and threatened those who were dumping, but nothing worked. In early June, Welder got the nod from his commander to barricade the road with armored personnel carriers to stop the trucks. Then Welder sat down with Zvornik officials and gave them 30 days to find another dump. They did.

"The lesson we learned was strongly worded letters, meetings and appeals to (people's) better nature don't work if you don't back it up with force," he said.

As the summer wore on, helping refugees return was Lightning Troop's top job, and the biggest challenge in doing so was in Divich, a small riverside town.

Muslims wanted to come back, but resistance from Serbs was strong. The plan was for one Muslim family to fix up their war-damaged house in Divich.

To make that possible, Welder and his men used the same strategy they had for other successful returns: visit with the locals, listen to concerns, show them they would be treated fairly and then bring in refugees under the protection of local police.

"We knew this would be difficult, but we walked around enough and talked to enough people, that we thought there was not going to be violence," Welder said. "We were wrong."

As the return approached, the atmosphere was tense. On the first day the Muslims returned, there were no problems, probably because of a massive presence by local police and U.S. forces. But three weeks later, the return house was vandalized by Serbs.

The Muslims stayed away for a few days after the vandalism and then returned. Locals gathered up to protest, but it seemed to be peaceful, Welder said. Then suddenly, rocks and bricks were flying at the soldiers, police and Muslims.

None of the soldiers was seriously injured, but a few of Muslims were. The violence subsided but then flared up again throughout the day. In the end, local police put down the riot. No U.S. soldiers fired their weapons.

The incident embittered some soldiers in Lightning Troop.

"These were people we knew, we had drank coffee with, played basketball and sat in their homes and here they are throwing rocks at us," Welder said. "Maybe we found out our limits in Divich, like we aren't going to change this place. ... Capt. Welder drinking coffee and talking to people isn't going to erase the fact that someone's mother and father were killed."

Talking one night after the mission, Welder and his lieutenants concluded, "This would be a reason to fight, if we ever saw this kind of intolerance or hatred rearing its head in our country. Hopefully, that will make us better people and soldiers."

Spc. James Bowden was deeply affected by seeing mass graves so common in Bosnia. Bowden, in fact, fell in love with Bosnia because he was on a mission that he thinks made a difference in people's lives.

"So far, it's been the highlight of my military career," he said. "Shooting a tank is fun, but not shooting at people is much better."

Lt. Hood, who acted as second-in-command to Welder, entered the Bosnia mission thinking the only way the Fort Carson soldiers would make history was if they made a mistake and violence erupted.

"That turns out not to be true. We did more to change the demographics of eastern Bosnia than any SFOR unit before us. They laid the groundwork, and we made it happen," Hood said, referring to troops helping Muslims move back into areas that had been entirely Serb.

Hood, 27, liked the mission once he got there.

"It was a chance to go somewhere, see a different culture and do something real," Hood said. "The mission wasn't as intense as war but it was still a noble mission, a noble cause. We didn't go there to change the world; we went there to create the hope for peace."

And Hood came away with an appreciation for the little things in life: indoor plumbing, central heat and air conditioning, stoplights.

After six months in Bosnia, Hood expected to be chomping to come home.

He was, but he also found an unexpected feeling: Part of him wanted to stay to solve the problems. Now he is keeping an eye on developments.

"Every day I pick up the paper and look for news on Bosnia," he said. "I feel like I have a stake in it and probably always will. You don't want to see all that work you did in six months go away."

While Hood found the mission challenging and enjoyable, being away from his wife, Kim, was no fun. It was the longest separation in the couple's three-year marriage, though like many married soldiers, he came home for two weeks midway through the mission.

While the separation was painful, Hood said it helped both of them grow.

His wife landed a job she loves. Jerry lifted weights relentlessly, read a lot of books and studied for the law-school exam.

The Hoods have had a joyful reunion. But other reunions haven't had happy endings.

Eric and Sonya Klopfer, who have three young children, are among those splitting. They had talked about divorcing in the past but always made a go of it. The separation of Bosnia was too much, said Eric, a sergeant.

"If I didn't go to Bosnia, this never would have happened," he said.

Army Chaplain Guy Glad wasn't familiar with the Klopfers' situation but said that in his experience, Army couples don't split just because of a deployment.

"The deployment tends to act as a magnifying glass on those problems," he said. "The thinking is, `Good, this time away will help solve our problems.' Well, it doesn't."

Army counselors and chaplains anticipated the stresses put on marriages by the Bosnia deployment. They talked to couples before the deployment and then right up until the reunion, giving the last advice literally five minutes before soldiers arrived at Carson, Glad said.

The issues are the same in Army marriages as they are in any relationship: communication, sex and money, Glad said.

Glad said the biggest challenge is that the couples will have just a few weeks before soldiers must return to the Army's fast pace.

The task of turning back into warriors awaits.