Georgia - Where I left my Soul
Georgia on my mind
This is the story of a United Nations Military Observer from Austria who has served twice in Georgia (Caucasus), spending 26 months there, all in all.
To be able to write about this time I needed some distance to the event itself. The readers might have also taken part in some missions, so we both know that talking about a mission upon returning home is not always pleasant. Sometimes you feel you had better talk about the time abroad to your dog or the fish in the aquarium.
Actually, I am telling it for Georgia and for myself, too. For the people I met there: The UNMOs, the Russian officers, the Georgians, the Mingrelians, the Abkhazians (the sequence is no to be understood as a scale of sympathy), and the land itself, which still has a place in my memory.
"Georgia, where I left my soul." What to make of this title - unusually sentimental for a soldier?
I recall a conversation which I had in Denmark during my time in SHIRBRIG 2006. There was a moment when I was talking with other staff officers of the Planning Element about our last missions. It happened during an exercise, somewhere in the middle of nature, when we had time to take a short mental rest. One officer asked me whether I liked Denmark and the job, and in his face I could read that he expected me to say "Great, man.” I did not because I felt rather unhappy there; however, I did not want to hurt him either.
So I told him a story about the Indians I had heard, who allegedly said: "When doing a journey, the soul needs more time to travel than the body." I realized that this was what was happening to me, too: I had possibly left my soul behind in my last mission in Georgia, close to the Caucasian mountains, near the Black Sea, while my body had been in Denmark for more than a year now.
Even though this idea seemed strange to me, I could sense its truth and impact.
Now we are 2011, and the situation has not changed much since.
Actually, that’s the reason why I am typing these letters now.
A helicopter crash and "no way back"
When I volunteered for UNOMIG in 2003, I had no clue where Georgia was and what was going on there. I followed the motto "collect what you need to know to complete the mission - nothing more." It was the only vacancy at that time and it sounded at least interesting. During my preparations in Austria I met Victor, a very experienced UNMO (he had served in more than 14 missions, UNOMIG being one of them). We had served in IFOR together, so I listened to his advice. My original posting had been for Kodori 9 (team leader), which he said was not a "good place" because they had recently shot down a UN helicopter there. I grew a little concerned and started to collect further information about the mission, and the results of my "investigations" confirmed his statement. I found a lot of reports about ambushes, abductions and serious mine incidences in UNOMIG.
However, I tried not to worry because I thought my last mission, UNIKOM (Kuwait-Iraq) in 2000/2001, had not been an easy one either.
The day before I departed, a warrant officer of the Austrian MOVCON, who picked me and my luggage up at the parking place of the camp, looked at me and said: "Well, Lieutenant Colonel, now there’s no way back," as if he could read my mind.
I said: "Yes, that’s correct, there’s no way back now."
The arrival
Travelling from Trabzon (Turkey) with a UN fixed wing, I arrived at Senaki Airport in April 2004, continuing my journey on a Mi-8 to Sukhumi HQ. Everything went well, NSTR. After some days of introductory training in Sukhumi, including an English examination as well as a driving test, we (the new ones) received three days of "driving instruction” on the "Nyala" in Gali. The "Nyala" was the name for a quite big 8.5-ton, four-wheel vehicle, made in South Africa, which gave protection against anti-tank mines.
Since we had already heard of Gali being a "hot spot" we were mentally prepared or, to be quite honest, alarmed.
The living conditions looked quite clean in comparison to Sukhumi HQ. Except during the patrols, the sector crew (around 50 personnel) were locked in the small compound and curfew started at around 1900 hours, so movements to the UN accommodations within the curfew were only possible in armoured vehicles. Walking outside the camp was not even recommended during day time.
However, I liked the comradely atmosphere there. At the time of my stay, a medical and maintenance training competition (the "Gali Olympics") took place. In spite of the sweating when changing a flat tire of 100 kilograms and carrying a patient on a stretcher we had a lot of fun.
Zugdidi
After three days, unfortunately (as I see it now), I had to continue to Zugdidi, which had been selected as my sector duty station for the first six months. I joined FOXTROTT team as a "Foxi 0" (the numbers went from 0-9, "0" meaning newcomer, the magic "9" stood for team leader). You were promoted to team leader after staying at the team base for approximately three to five months, depending on both the size of the team and your performance. Naime, a Bangladeshi officer and an excellent team leader was F9, who looked after the new ones and the team. I felt at home right from the first day.
At that time, Georgia "freed" Adjara, so there was some activity going on, and we made our daily patrols with soft and hard skins. For example, to reach one of our 30 team destinations in our AOR, namely the "famous GEO Signal Unit" we had to drive up a rocky mountain road, which was quite a challenge with at least one or two recovery actions as usual.
To sum up, it was patrolling and talking to locals and Georgian authorities. Although at home, in the Austrian Army, I worked as a driving instructor for many types of tanks (M60A3, M88A1, Leo2A4…) and nearly all other vehicles too, the daily patrols of up to 100 kilometres on very bad roads was a hard job.
After some months I became "acting" Foxtrott 9, because Maq, our team leader, was on leave. I had made a mistake on our weekly duty roster and therefore had serious discussions with the OPSO (56) about it.
On the same day Maq came back from his leave after a long flight from Islamabad and took a closer look at the problem. He said: "Helmut, these things happen." Then he went to 56 and sorted it out, although he was definitely not responsible for my mistake.
I was completely surprised about his attitude, because I was used to superiors blaming subordinates for their own mistakes, but surely not taking responsibility for other peoples’ blunders. Later we became really good friends and I called him my "brother" which I had never before done with anybody else.
After coming back from my first leave, I was surprised to find myself posted to the OPS office, which I did not like so much at all, but the sector commander seemed to be happy with my presence.
When I had to leave Zugdidi after six months, the sector commander waited with me for the transport (CS "Tango 1") for about half an hour, giving me the sort of farewell I would give to my own son. Zugdidi Sector had become like a family to me.
Gali
After six months in Zugdidi and finally being appointed Number Three in the sector, I was of course not too happy to join a ground patrol team as number "0" again. But this was the normal procedure. Deep inside I was hoping to be transferred to Sukhumi HQ (Training Section), but this did not materialise. So I joined GOLF team in the Gali Sector and there, actually, I was able to "ground" my soul. I quickly got used to the team after some weeks, to the area we had to patrol, and to the sector as such. There were mines around, the Abkhazians were not too friendly but, interestingly, I liked it.
I invented a special greeting, and we kept up this somewhat time-consuming "welcome procedure" which started by shaking hands and ended in a friendly hug, until the end of my tour. The British sector commander gave me a hard time with his intensive debriefings, but he was correct. I think his name was LtCol George Kilburn. I had the opportunity to move to Sukhumi after two months, but I asked to stay in the team, which was accepted.
When we went on patrol once, the second Nyala moved into a ditch, as by itself, for unknown reasons and turned over. The place was clearly marked as a mined area and smoke came out of the vehicle, too. Both crew members got out safely (if slightly injured and shocked), but we still had some full gas balloons in the car, which we had loaded at the Ochamchira gas station before (for our cooking in the sector). So, after a quick "mine check" by an incoming HALO TRUST team, we stepped into the grass and got out the balloons. I cannot forget how scared I was, since prior to our getting out the HALO TRUST expert had said: "Sight check, by 80 per cent mine free." The Russians helped us with a BTR and their winch, after the UN recovery vehicle had surrendered to the difficult circumstances (muddy narrow road, many trees).
At that time Tanvir, a GOLF team member too, came from the (safe) compound to the location, stepped towards the upturned, smoking Nyala in front of me, and took out the gas balloons together with me and one security guy. The rest was watching from the distance, as far as I remember.
On that day Tanvir was already officially on leave, so I asked him why he had come. He responded that he had heard on the radio that we were having problems. "Simple answer, brave performance," I thought.
Driving was generally challenging in this area. We crossed rivers and lagoons through waters, passed mined areas, went over half broken bridges and slid down on icy mountain roads.
The average week consisted of five daily patrols, one night duty on the compound (CS "Romeo" for the duty driver or "47" for the duty officer on the radio), and one training and maintenance day. Patrolling was sometimes risky. One HOTEL team base patrol was ambushed on the Black Sea shore by masked men: All patrol members had to lie down, then the men shot in the sand close to their heads but nobody was injured. UN accommodations, too, were sometimes robbed by armed and masked men. Once our GOLF team patrol was shot at "over the vehicles" by an ABK platoon as a warning, when they were conducting an "unofficial" exercise. It was an interesting feeling to look directly into the muzzle fire flashes; even from the shelter of a protected vehicle.
What I also liked about the Gali Sector was that, although deadly tired after the job, we did, on several occasions, not immediately leave for the accommodation but stayed at the team base. We also normally do this at home, but there we went for "one beer" to the "Gali Paradise Club" on the compound.
Gali was seriously called "paradise" by many members, also during the official "morning briefings." The Zugdidi Sector, on the other hand, was called "the heaven" by the ZUG Sector. While the ZUG Sector never took their "heaven" too seriously, the UNMOS did that with Gali.
On some evenings we just stayed at the team base, made some talk, had drinks and music, events we called "team base parties." There we had a chat about the daily patrols, our families at home and the world as such. UNMOS from about 30 nations served in UNOMIG, so I heard many different points of view.
Once I had a serious family problem and quite desperately asked "my brother" Maq what to do, believing that, most probably, there was no right answer to be given. However, he found one. Looking up to the night sky he said: "Helmut, once man looked at the moon, and he had the wish to go there, and he went." His point was: If you really want something, you can reach it by making an effort and by believing in it.
In June 2005, I left the mission, feeling it would not be for good.
UNOMIG 2008 and the JULIET team
In June 2008, I went back on the mission, again because there was a lack of volunteers. Perhaps rumours about potential war between Georgia and the Abkhazians had spread among the cautious ones.
My commander of SHIRBRIG, BrigGen Kochanowski from Poland, confirmed the rumours. Following the news, even a blind man could see that something was ongoing there:
- (re)occupation of the Kodori valley by Georgian "police forces,"
- UAVs shot down at the cease fire line (de facto administrative border line),
- Russian MIGs over the UN AOR, and
- increasing presence of Russian "peacekeeping troops."
I went there anyhow. Funnily, I was posted to GOLF team at Gali again, even though I had not asked for it. It was a similar situation as four years ago, with the difference that I was exempted from the Nyala test, because the instructor remembered me from the last mission.
I did not want to stay eight months again in the same team and AOR, so after two months I asked to be moved to the Gali staff, where I started as 3rd MIO.
The MIO branch was responsible for doing the SITREPs and liaison with the CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States) RFF and the de facto ABK authorities in the sector. To my mind, the importance of a good liaison was not reflected sufficiently in the structure and routine, which I also inferred from my experience as LO in Baghdad 2001 at the "Canal Hotel." So after some weeks, I suggested to create a new separate liaison team (two people only) to cover this issue more exclusively.
The idea was supported by the Jordanian sector commander (a knowledgeable officer with a sense for situational awareness), and later authorised by Sukhumi HQ. This was how I started "JULIET team," which became quite well known after a short time because of our good relations with the Russians, the Abkhazians, but also with the Mingrelians and the local NGOs. Later on, we extended our activities to Zugdidi liaison meetings with the Georgian Army LO and EUMM counterparts as well as to Sukhumi, meeting with some Abkhazians, de facto MOD counterparts.
Both happened in conjunction with the other UNOMIG liaison teams there.
Only my liver was not so happy about the new job, having to put up with the traditional toast rituals.
We had success. One topic I still remember. The Russians always complained about the Georgian UAV flying along the CFL (they could hear the sound). The Georgians did not like the Russian Mi-24 flying too close to the Inguri River. Thus at the next meeting we had with the ZUG Sector (together with both SC of course) and the Georgian Army LO I think I said something like: "If you stop flying the UAV, we will ask the Russians to stop flying helicopters along the Inguri." At the next RFF LO meeting we brought up the topic. After one week, both activities actually stopped, which I had not really expected.
Little progress we made, though, with demining the CFL, because the ABK believed that GEO would attack soon.
The Russian and Georgian Conflict, August 2008
However, after the outbreak of hostilities in South Ossetia in August 2008, Russian troops crossed the Inguri River in our AOR and moved west. As the situation around was out of control, the mandate was not executable.
This caused a very difficult and dangerous situation for us in Gali. We, the UNMOs, remained; whereas the UN civilian staffs were evacuated to Sukhumi, except the CAO, an experienced UN International Staff Officer from Iraq (13 missions completed). Luckily, the Gali Sector, and hence I, survived.
Bombs were dropped close to Zugdidi and the flak jacket became a good friend. I called Michael, the other Austrian in Zugdidi and told him: "Take cover - an Su is coming." Mi-24 kept flying closely above our heads, fully equipped with rockets and machine guns. There was the smell of recently fired rockets, when they came back after the sorties. Su-27 regularly circled over our compound. There was no need to watch war movies on television. The MIGs we could mostly only hear because they were flying at normal height, but they were present. Outside Russian tanks were moving in huge convoys, inclusive battle tanks.
Normally, I was on good terms with the Russian LOs, but when it came to the point when the RFF was on the move to Tbilisi, I lost my temper with the RFF LO a little. For my wife was pregnant at that time and on visit in the Georgian capital. She complained on the phone about the ongoing bombing, concerned that the Russians would take Tbilisi. The international airport was blocked, so she could not leave for Austria, either.
Suddenly, the whole situation became a personal security issue for me, my unborn first son and my wife.
So at the next meeting I probably was not very friendly when telling Sergey: "Sergey, my wife is in Tbilisi and pregnant, so if possible, tell your commanders not to take the capital." On the next day the Russian advance stopped without any resistance from the GEO side.
Later my son was born healthy and my wife was ok, too.
Once we, the JULIET team, approached a Russian/Abkhazian armoured convoy with around 30 BTR and BMP. The troops had stopped for a break beside the road in full combat gear and high readiness mode. We approached, unarmed of course, equipped only with our courage and blue berets, being aware that most of the Russian soldiers came from Chechnya, where no UN exists; and so possibly did not even know who we were. We had a tense dialogue, although my comrade was a Russian Observer, but we made contact with them and showed the UN flag.
At the beginning of the invasion, I once went on a special patrol together with the UN Police, approaching the Abkhazian Army, who were just getting their artillery into position.
I remember that one of the two UN policemen (I had thought of both as rather though guys) said: "This might be our last patrol," meaning they expected the Abkhazians to shoot us, which would not have surprised me, either. We knew that on that day we were the only car of UNOMIG in Gali AOR outside the compound and that we were moving into a sensitive area upon direct order of the SC.
They did not like these patrols at all, because they thought the UN might be "spying on them." The hostile signs given to us by the soldiers (they were pointing their guns) we clearly understood.
To sum up, during the first months I felt the blast of an IED on my body twice, but luckily, I was not close enough to get hurt. One UN language assistant died during a big blast in a Gali "restaurant." Shooting is one thing: When you hear it, you take cover. The potential risk of an IED explosion while you are eating pizza at a restaurant is another. Passing such a location by coincidence and surviving is therefore luck. When an explosion happened once at the place where I used to buy pizza at this time, 50 metres from the compound, this remained in my memory. From then onwards I never knew, whether or not to go back there.
The Russian and Abkhazian troops showed no happiness about the UN troops in the conflict zone, but they left us alone, more or less, thanks to God.
In my opinion, our liaison work did at least not harm the relation between the UN and the Abkhazians and Russians. Both, we learned after some time, were friendly and reliable counterparts.
In general and keeping the circumstances in mind, both the Russians and Abkhazians acted professionally and correctly. And, to my knowledge, so did the Georgian Army on the other side.
After some technical "rollovers," the mission finally ended unexpectedly in June 2009, and we went home.
Although there was more action in 2008/2009 and the job as liaison officer was interesting, 2004/2005 somehow is the time I prefer thinking about.
Author: Colonel Helmut Anzeletti, born in 1958.
Military career:
1977 One-year voluntary serviceman, tank M60 A1, 10th Tank Battalion; 1978/79 UNFICYP OPCOM; 1980 Preparatory semester, 1983 Graduation from the Theresan Military Academy, class Erzherzog Karl 1983-1986 33rd Tank Battalion PLTLDR; 1987 UNFICYP Deputy COYCDR; 1987-1989 33rd Tank Battalion MTO; 1990-1996 School of Armour, CDR Training Staff II; 1997 IFOR Deputy COYCDR; 1998-1999 School of Armour, Course CDR/Course 5, 2000/2001 UNIKOM OPCOM/LO, 2002-2003 Training Dpt/Course 5 2004 UNOMIG OPSO/TL; 2005-2008 SHIRBRIG G4, SPLO 2008/2009 UNOMIG LO; 2009/2010 MoDS, Directorate General IV, Operations Planning Division/Desk Officer